Dathana de Gray
by sockets
Summary: A series of relationships that delve into the concepts of consent, equal rights, love and the greater good. Prowl/Jazz/Miles, Mirage/Hound, Sunny/Sides, Ironhide/Chromia and more.
1. Intro and Outline

**Series Blurb**: A series of relationships that delve into the concepts of consent, equal rights, love and the greater good. Prowl/Jazz/Miles, Mirage/Hound, Sunny/Sides, Ironhide/Chromia and more.

**Intro from Gatekat:**  
What originally began as (yet another) effort to find a socket for Mirage and Hound in *The Naturalists* as I tested my feet in the POV fanverse. It was answered quite effectively by femme. Then came the mess of an effort by Jazz and Prowl to find one, which eventually turned out well in *Hunting Pleasure* and femme came through again. Prophet got into the game with Sunny, asking for a Sides and thus *Sunny Side Up* happened. Then *Sunny Side Up* and *Hunting Pleasure* crossed over a few times.

35 chapters in, between the three stories, we decided that they would all be in a single 'verse, a single, inter-connected series of sorts. While I will be posting them separately on my account (gatekat), here on Sockets they are going to be combined into a single large story named *Shades of Grey*. The copy here has also been betaed more completely than the one I post on my personal account.

**A word from Femme:**  
It is wonderful that an AU of the Points of View 'verse I created with Aniay has turned out to be far larger and more complex than the original. It affirms the decision to open the 'verse up and give others a chance to play and write. Writing with Kat and Prophet has helped me grow so much as a writer and in my rather limited knowledge of canon (limited to Bayverse, watchin G1 Animated as a kid, loads of fanfiction and what I've read on the TF Wiki). I am compelled by Kat's take on character histories. They really bring out the shades of grey I've wanted to play with in this verse. I've had a blast developing the human characters for these mechs. If they are even half as complex and lovable as Kat and Prophet's Cybertronians, I'll feel like I've accomplished something. It has been an addictive collaboration.

The sub-story guide:  
**Sunny Side Up**: Sideswipe/Sunstreaker centric. Shimmerfire (Seeker) and Ma-le (human socket).  
**Hunting Pleasure**: Prowl/Jazz/Miles Lancaster centric.  
**The Naturalists**: Mirage/Hound centric. Alicia Rodriguez (human socket)  
**Frontliners**: Chromia/Ironhide/Will Lennox/Sarah Lennox centric  
**Nature and Nurture**: Ratchet/Mikaela Banes centric.

Chapter titles in bold have been completed and have been posted to gatekat's account. Any unfinished chapters may be moved, deleted and/or altered.

**Shades of Grey 1: Intro and Outline**  
An explanation of what this story is, what it was and where it's going. This file.

**Shades of Grey 2: Sunny Side Up 1: Seeker, Lover, Mate?**  
Sunstreaker is having a bad day. And when he has a bad day, so does everyone else... Unless someone can turn it around.

**Shades of Grey 3: Hunting Pleasure 1: Lesbians and Mechs**  
After dropping Cathy off from these events of (community .livejournal .com/tf_matrix/17854 .html) Jazz and Prowl head out to find someone more willing to play.

**Shades of Grey 4: Hunting Pleasure 2: Amy Parva to the Rescue**  
Jazz visits Amy while she's on desk duty, entices her to come 'tease' Prowl, but things don't go according to plan.

**Shades of Grey 5: The Naturalists 1: Wilderness Finds**  
Hound and Mirage are a fine example of opposites attracting, but what will that mean when it comes to finding a socket? Will they manage to share one, or end up with separate ones?

**Shades of Grey 6: The Naturalists 2: Waking Different**  
With the socket installed, Alicia spends her first night as a living Energizer Bunny for Hound and Mirage.

**Shades of Grey 7: Sunny Side Up 2: Complications**  
Sunstreaker promised his brother they'd have that talk, he just didn't expect it to be this hard.

**Shades of Grey 8: The Naturalists 3: A New Dawn**  
Waking her first morning with a socket in her neck and in the quarters of the two giant mechanical beings that were her lovers, Alicia gets a few shocks and a look at something sacred.

**Shades of Grey 9: The Naturalists 4: A New Society**  
Alicia's first day out and about as a socket introduces her to a host of characters, from friendly to just plain crazy to scary as hell.

**Shades of Grey 10: The Naturalists 5: Every Society Has Issues**  
Socializing has left Alicia with more questions than answers, even as her heart settles down from watching her lover fight two of the deadliest the Autobots have to offer and the very unhappy Prime that stopped it.

**Shades of Grey 11: The Naturalists 6: Movie Night**  
Diego Garcia's Cross Species Social Coordinator's first gathering in the newly converted Hanger 10 is quit a hit for the most part.

**Shades of Grey 12: Hunting Pleasure 3: Miles Lancaster**  
With the unmitigated disaster of Amy's last visit too fresh in his processors, Prowl has decided to take the initiative in finding a socket in his own way. Miles Lancaster replies.

**Shades of Grey 13: Hunting Pleasure 4: Katie Benson**  
With the unmitigated disaster of Amy's last visit too fresh in his processors, Prowl has decided to take the initiative in finding a socket for them in his own way. Katie Benson replies.

**Shades of Grey 14: Hunting Pleasure 5: Under the Stars**  
Since Kathie passed Prowl's interview, Jazz looks her up on the beach.

**Shades of Grey 15: Hunting Pleasure 6: World Turned Upside Down**  
Miles gets some news that turns his world upside down for a reason he can't fathom yet.

**Shades of Grey 16: The Naturalists 7: Human Options**  
Mirage is restless with Alicia stuck sleeping in a berth apart from them, and eventually decides to sleep with her the only way he can right now, and Hound likes the idea.

**Shades of Grey 17: Sunny Side Up 3: Mother Hens**  
Sunstreaker isn't the only one worried about his brother's condition. Shimmerfire joins him in fretting over Sideswipe when the silver mech finally starts coming to.

**Shades of Grey 18: The Naturalists 8: Field Distraction**  
With Mirage on a mission, Hound and Alicia take refuge in her field work to distract them from the fact that he's not only not there, but in a great deal of danger.

**Shades of Grey 19: Sunny Side Up 4: Socket Hunt/ Hunting Pleasure 7: Burst Bubble**  
With Sideswipe resting in the Twin's quarters, Sunstreaker heads out to find a socket for his brother, and Shimmerfire happily tags along.

**Shades of Grey 20: Hunting Pleasure 8: Claiming Miles**  
Jazz, Prowl and Miles come to an important decision.

**Shades of Grey 21: Sunny Side Up 5: Challenge and Choice**  
With Sideswipe fully recovered, he and Sunstreaker are out to set up a prank when they get a most unwelcome visitor.

**Shades of Grey 22: Sunny Side Up 6: Seeker Ways**  
While out on patrol with Shimmerfire, Tread Bolt decides that he's had enough. This is the result.

**Shades of Grey 23: The Naturalists 9: Prayers to the Virgin**  
After days in the medbay, Hound in finally coherent enough to be turned loose.

**Shades of Grey 24: Hunting Pleasure 9: Which Way is Up?**  
This is the 'must fuck ones socket many times a day' stage for them. In other words, this chapter is mostly porn.

**Shades of Grey 25: Sunny Side Up 7: Carrying Seekers are Still Seekers**  
With some wind under her wings and a much-improved mood, Shimmerfire shares an ill-kept secret with Sunstreaker and Sideswipe.

**Shades of Grey 26: Hunting Pleasure 10: Business in Bangkok**  
Jazz does a little 'shopping' for the Twins.

**Shades of Grey 27: Hunting Pleasure 11: The Hill Tribes of Burma**  
Jazz takes Ma-le to visit family and perhaps pick up a couple other girls.

**Shades of Grey 28: Hunting Pleasure 12: Miles Away**  
When Miles meets his mom and sister in Costa Rica in order to have a "family reunion" with the newly discovered Lancaster sibs, all hell breaks lose for the newly claimed socket.

**Shades of Grey 29: Hunting Pleasure 13: When a Socket Goes Missing**  
When Jazz's conversation with Miles ends abruptly, NEST kicks into high gear and two mechs get a fresh taste of panic.

**Shades of Grey 30: Hunting Pleasure 14: Miles of Pain**  
Day two of Miles' stay in Skywarp's lab brings far worse events than the first.

**Shades of Grey 31: Hunting Pleasure 15: For the Greater Good**  
Jazz breaks mission code and contacts his socket without rescuing him.

**Shades of Grey 32: Hunting Pleasure 16: Mission Report**  
Jazz returns from his scouting mission with a lot of news and just as much frustration.

**Shades of Grey 33: Sunny Side Up 8: The Bride from Burma**  
Ma-le finally meets her intended husbands

**Shades of Grey 34: Sunny Side Up 9: Married to the Sun and the Moon**  
Ma-le experiences her silver husband for the first time.

**Shades of Grey 35: Hunting Pleasure 17: Fallout and Recovery**  
Jazz fesses up and Miles has to decide what is more important to him.

**Shades of Grey 36: Hunting Pleasure 18: Of Mother Hens and Brother Jackals**  
Miles is scrutinized and Will 'accidentally' comes upon on Jazz brooding on the beach.

**Shades of Grey 37: Sunny Side Up 10: Medical Snarls**  
Ratchet learns that Sideswipe and Sunstreaker are as good at following orders as ever.

Shades of Grey 38: Nature and Nurture 1: The She-Demon of Medbay  
Ratchet endures his punishment for staking his claim.

**Shades of Grey 39: Hunting Pleasure 19: Comfort Where You Find It**  
Miles is finally welcomed home liked he wanted in the first place.

**Shades of Grey 40: Frontliners 1: Explosive Conversation**  
After more than a day of mulling things over, Will finds himself ready to have a conversation with Ironhide than could well make the base explode.

**Shades of Grey 41: The Naturalists 10: Homecoming**  
When Hound and Alicia are allowed to talk to Mirage, she learns a few more things about her lover and herself.

**Shades of Grey 42: Frontliners 2: Mamma Bear**  
Even in a world filled with giant robots, no one crosses a mamma bear.

**Shades of Grey 43: Sunny Side Up 11: Wings of the Night and Day**  
Sideswipe deems it safe enough for Ma-le to meet Shimmerfire, only his plans for getting the carrying Seeker in a good mood doesn't work.

Shades of Grey 44: Frontliners 3: The Zerstörerz Arrive  
Chromia's cadre, nicknamed the Wreckers by Cons and Bots alike, enters the Sol system ready to shake things up and put the fear of Autobots in Megatron once more.  
-Rollbar greets Ironhide first.  
-Chromia lets him, knowing her greeting is going to be long and involves a berth  
-Jolt is grabbed by Ratchet to restart his training/meet Mikaela Banes  
-Killblade heads to the training grounds to spar with Sunny/Sides  
-Dogfight meets Shimmerfire and Tread Bolt  
-Wolfkat is pointed towards Will (and others?). She immediately wants to check out the holo-training room.  
-Shekat is pointed at Miles and Jazz and eagerly begins to learn about all the new mechs to share with and the new critters to have fun with.  
-Caurver most likely ends up ambushed by Wheeljack while he finishes spreading his wings and goes to swim.

Shades of Grey 45: Nature and Nurture 2/Frontliners 4: Intake Chaos  
Ratchet/Jolt/First Aid and the Zerstörerz' intake exams.

Shades of Grey 46: Sunny Side Up 12: Time with Humans  
Ma-le and Alicia gets their first serious socialization time with the local humans.

**Shades of Grey 47: The Naturalists 11: Protoform Passion**  
Finally allowed to recover in his quarters, Mirage is welcomed home.

Shades of Grey 48: Frontliners 5: Lennox's, meet Chromia  
Ironhide introduces Chromia to his sockets.

**Shades of Grey 49: The Naturalists 12: Claiming Alicia**  
Mirage gets his armor back, Hound gets yelled at, and over weakening objections from her mechs about how quickly this is moving, Alicia is claimed by Mirage and Hound.

Shades of Grey 50: Hunting Pleasure 20: Lingering Questions  
With things settling down, Miles gets some time alone with Jazz.

Shades of Grey 51: Frontliners 6: A Mech Watching Party  
A party celebrating the first year where Jazz is there on the anniversary of Mission City and the sparklings that are coming is attended by all and gives Sarah a good night of bonded pair watching.

Shades of Grey 52: Frontliners 7:

Shades of Grey 53: The Naturalists 13: Lost Sparkling  
A week after claiming Alicia, despite everyone's best efforts, something goes very wrong with Hound's new spark.

Shades of Grey 54: The Naturalists 14: The Socket Club  
True to his word, Major Lennox has invited as many sockets as he can for drinks.


	2. Sunny Side Up 1: Seeker, Lover, Mate?

**Fandom:** Transformers Bayverse (POV'verse)  
**Authors:** gatekat & prophetbot on Livejournal  
**Pairing:** Sunstreaker/Sideswipe/Shimmerfire  
**Rating:** NC-17 for mech/mech/femme  
**Codes:** Slash, Het, Twincest, Mechsmut, Sparksex  
**Summary:** Sunstreaker is having a bad day. And when he has a bad day, so does everyone else... Unless someone can turn it around.  
**Notes:** Written in the Point of View fanverse (community. livejournal .com/tf_matrix)  
**"text"** translated Cybertronian.  
**Disclaimer**: Do I really have to keep repeating that I don't own the boys? Gatekat owns Shimmerfire.

* * *

**Shades of Grey 2:  
Sunny Side Up 1: Seeker, Lover, Mate?**

* * *

There was an underlying annoyance in knowing he was more or less confined to the government appointed base set up for them. Most of the time the mech felt like he was suffocating-for lack of a better term-that when the time came to actually "transform and roll out", he was a restless hunk of energon. Sure, he had his brother to keep him company, and the countless organics roaming to and fro, but the lack of activity was making him more irritable than usual.

He could have always sought out Ironhide for possible weapons upgrades, though that would be admitting his current weapon systems were inferior. That, plus he was sure that the weapons specialist was in a "show my canons" kind of mood. Bothering Ratchet didn't seem like a good idea either, despite the fact that his right servo joints were feeling a little stiff, as the CMO tended to be busy with his socket advancements. He could always comm his brother and demand that Sideswipe entertain him until he fell into unexpected recharge mode, though he had a feeling his silver companion was almost expecting that.

**"Slag him,"** Sunny muttered, optics flaring when he noticed that a couple of humans were watching him curiously-indicating that they knew he was speaking out loud. Warm tufts of air huffed out from his facial vents under his mouth plates, invisible yet intimidating all the same. "What, humans? Did I say something amusing?" The camo clad organics soon caught the hint that he was in a sour mood, mumbling amongst themselves as they strutted into the nearest establishment.

He tended to ignore humans if they didn't have sockets, unless, of course, they were as imprinting as Sam Witwicky and few others that he knew on a first name basis. Actually, he did have a soft underbelly when it came to offspring, but he was insistent on justifying it on the surprising fact that he was protective of innocent life. When they grew up, of course, he didn't care. Then they were just another organic without a socket.

Sunstreaker, becoming further irritated that he had unknowingly positioned himself at some kind of organic walking area of the base, set off towards the Autobot hanger, unseeingly avoiding stepping on the traffic beneath his massive feet. In fact, he was so mostly-concentrated on not stepping on them that, upon beginning to enter the hanger, embarrassingly managed to smack his forehead plating into the lower part of the roof. **"Oh, for Primus's sake!"** Another string of very alien cuss words strung off his vocal processor, getting louder as a chunk of the section he'd hit crumbled and mockingly dusted his armor.

"Humans really can't build anything right," a voice came from his right and well above his head, and just outside the hanger, that sounded a lot like his in tone, but with a decided femme pitch. A fraction of a nanoklik later he recognized the accent to the standard Autobot; Seeker.

Upon hearing the femme's voice, Sunstreaker gave the robotic equivalent of a snort, one that attempted to proclaim he had nothing to do with the chunk missing from the hangar, but was more than likely in vain. "They cannot build to accommodate to our height. What, do they expect us to remain in vehicle mode the entire time?"

Though humans did, however, appear to be adapting somewhat. There were new buildings in construction for their alien comfort, no matter how much the Autobots didn't feel alien to themselves. A large, yellow-bronze streaked servo lifted to flick debris away from his helmet and shoulder armor, gears whirring as his body bent back to get an optic view.

"Enjoying the view, Shimmerfire? I didn't know you were the hangar's new lookout." A robotic expression akin to semi amusement appeared on his faceplates. Not that the hangar ever had a lookout to begin with...

The large, sleek jet-former flicked her wings, causing the sunlight to play a riotous rainbow across her frame, and grinned down in amusement. "Only when there's something worth looking out for. The only two on base with the same love of deadly blades qualifies," she tapped the fifteen foot long sickle-blade integrated into her arm against the side of the hanger.

The broader mech tipped himself backwards with ease, the wheel attachments close to his ankles skidding him to a stop where he could get a full view of the Seeker. She appeared to be in a friendly mood, one he could not exactly imitate at the moment, as it was a rare occasion on its own. "Then your optics are on the right 'bot." He would have gone gung-ho and display his weapons just for the show of it, but the thought of another lecture from Prime or Prowl about potentially unnerving or frightening the humans held him back. "Care to join me on the ground before the organics start thinking I'm conversing with myself ... again?"

Shimmerfire laughed brightly. "Silver coming too?" she swung sideways and landed on heavy pedes that housed her primary engines. On the ground and side by side, he was quickly reminded of just how big Seekers were. He was a tall mech as a frontliner, but she stood more than thirty percent taller and her wings swept out as wide he was tall. A completely different mold from Starscream, or even the Seekers back on Cybertron, her wings were basically separate from her primary frame and very mobile.

Unlike the sometimes petty humans who dared to care immensely when their women were taller than them, Sunstreaker had no problem with the fact that Shimmerfire came higher. It was her mold, after all, for her workings, and his, on the other hand, were made for the benefit of his functions. "If he wants," the 'bot huffed, resuming his usual demeanor. At times, it could very well make Ironhide more approachable. He did, however, duck almost playfully out of the way, gliding on his heels just out of reach from her closest wing. "You're gonna fracture armor plating with those things one of these days. It ain't gonna be mine, but..." he trailed off, obviously proud of his own skills, despite the earlier mishap.

She grinned, bright ruby-red optics glittering nearly as her frame. "We'll just have to find out, won't we?" she nearly purred, taking a step towards the training grounds and Sideswipe. "Winner calls the berth-action?" she gave the pair a devilish grin.

Shimmerfire obviously knew the right wires to nudge, for a matter of speaking. The sun blazed mech easily met her pace, keeping just out of range of her stretched wings and every so often swiftly gliding from one of her sides to the other. His mouth plates formed a devilish smirk. If there was one thing he enjoyed more than battle, it was - as the humans put it - the horizontal tango.

"If you insist," he mused, optics blinking suspiciously as he finally allowed his blades to hiss out of their concealed cases over his mechanical wrists.

"Just what are you trying to drag me into this time, Sunny?" Sideswipe raised an optic ridge as he swiveled and joined the pair.

"Just a sparing match to decide who's in charge for the rest of the day," Shimmerfire grinned at the silver warrior, not hiding in the least that she was checking his out as much as taking his measure.

Sunstreaker would have announced that Sideswipe didn't have a choice in the matter whatever the case, but was confident that his brother would be up to a ... playful match. He raised a servo for display, nudging the tip of its blade against his scent sensor, appearing to grin when he moved the appendage away. "What do you say, Sides, care to joust for the lady? Who knows? It could even end in a draw ... if you're lucky." As usual, he was first and foremost more confident in himself.

"_You_ I'll take down," Sideswipe snorted, his own blades snapping into place to thwack his brother's helm by going behind Shimmerfire's sleek, powerful frame. "Which means you'll _really_ be on the bottom today."

Sunstreaker mocked a laugh, his baritone ending with a grunt after being cut off from the clang that Sideswipe created when colliding his blade with his helm. "Don't get your hopes up, Silver." His wheels revved and he circled his near identical twin, optics scoping charted territory without really needing to - he had everything memorized by now.

Shimmerfire laughed in delight at watching the playfully competitive nature of the air. "It's a pity you're ground-bound. I think I could like you two as trine."

The sun kissed mech let his optics waver from his brother's frame to the femme standing close to them, amusement once again written on his face. "It's more of a pity how picky I am. Sides knows that, don't you Sides?" he queried teasingly before gliding more or less between the two.

Shimmering, iridescent wings snapped up, high and threatening as a deep rumble emanated from her chest.

Sideswipe just shook his head. "I don't care what your co-creator was, you're all Seeker."

Seeker or not, Sunstreaker could admire the wingspan she created, not to mention the blades she carted around. Maybe not to get her rolling on the berth with them, but the optics were made to observe. "Don't act all offended," he chided, rolling back a few paces to gather the look of his brother's expression.

The silver mech shrugged too. They hadn't been created yet when the phrase 'Autobot Seekers' had became obsolete as they were down to one who tended not to fight much. But they knew plenty from the older warriors, even if all the stories could be summed up in a single phrase: To the last, Seekers were a crazy, arrogant, self-righteous breed that earned their bragging rights in the air.

Less know but still talked about was the breed's unique status as the only Cybertronians who were never given a spark and never constructed a newsparked frame. Every last one was _born_ a fully formed second-stage frame and able to fly within days.

It creeped most non-Seekers out, but they were savagely proud of their ability to reproduce without aid and the society that had been build around it.

The tip of Sunstreaker's glossa momentarily poked out to lick his lips, staring between the two before finally swerving around his twin again. The tension that was rising was actually somewhat stimulating. "Enough talk, more play, ey?" he all but literally demanded, propping one foot up on its heel while the other kept him grounded.

"Definitely," Shimmerfire rumbled deeply, her ruby optics glittering in excitement as they finally made it to the practice grounds. Ironhide was sparing, and loosing, against Drift in one corner, but there was more than enough space for the three of them to work out their energy.

Crystalline blue optics from the sun twin flared excitedly at the thought of a battle. He took the immediate lead, eying the spar already taking place before firmly focusing on their own that was about to begin. "So, you got any rules, Shimmerfire, or do you just want to go at it until the losers cave?" He suggestively brushed plates with Sideswipe, a half scowl, half smirk on his face as he moved away and swerved to face both of them.

"Just a warning," she smirked right back and dropped in an aggressive stance with her wings wide and blades ready to parry or strike. "Break the wings and I'm not responsible for the results."

"I'll think about it," he droned thoughtfully for a brief moment, wondering if his brother would back him up should he decide to try her on that or let him take the heat on his own. Either way, it sounded like fun.

Sunstreaker attacked first, seemingly without warning, though Shimmerfire was ready for it. His pede gave him enough speed to dip under her left wing with a kind of grace as he drove at her with one blade, testing her out.

He was quickly reminded that _knowing_ something was distracting and _experiencing_ said distraction were two very different realities, especially when it involved your target's entire body. The tropical sun made her flash and shimmer, breaking up her outline, causing havoc with adjusting the gain on his optics and generally making her a pain to look at.

That was all when she was standing still with nothing more than the natural movement of her systems setting it off.

When she leapt to avoid his strike and drove her own blade down, it nearly forced him to reboot his optics. Only finely-honed battlefield instincts kept him from knowing what her blade felt like going through his shoulder joint. He was instinctively aware of his brother's movements as Sideswipe came at her low and fast only to snap his blade upwards with his full body at the last instant.

If she hadn't been a flier, he'd have gotten her pede just below the knee joint. Instead she twisted in the air, reminding them that even in a ground-fight, she was a creature of the skies.

A scowl formed permanently on golden mouth plates, different from the one he usually wore; this was one he donned even if the heat of battle was really a spar. Sunstreaker was doing less of admiring Shimmerfire's sheen and more of loathing the fact that it was straining the receptors in his optics.

His second blade shot from its sheath above his other wrist, needed now that he knew she was a Seeker not to be underestimated. For a moment, the golden warrior came around from behind his brother, dual blades crashing into the long, curved ones Shimmerfire sported when she came down to the ground once more.

"Oh, you're good," he growled huskily in compliment, raising his chin just above the sparks their clashing metal created.

Sunstreaker used the momentum caused from pushing away from those blades to spin himself around for a side attack, not needing his optics to tell him where his twin roamed. He barely, purposely, avoided scratching one of her extended wings and instead went for her waist, prepared to dodge via stealthy pede if necessary.

She responded as every young Seeker did; by overreacting to protect the thing worth more to her than her own spark. It put her right in Sideswipe's path and the silver warrior grinned as he drove his blade into her side. It was just deep enough to hurt, and perfectly cut to show that he'd pulled out of the strike in time to not cripple her.

Both optic ridges rose at her response. She obviously hadn't been kidding when she made the threat, though she appeared to be more initially protective of them than offensive on him for almost coming close to her wings. Which, of course, was fine with him, since it gave Sunstreaker and Sideswipe the advantage-for the moment.

"Nice one, brother."

Sunstreaker traveled behind her momentarily, keeping his optics on a low intake as her frame was beginning to sting them from the intensity of her shimmer, blades flashing while he moved a servo into an arch to clash against her impressive weapons.

They both felt the tempo pick up as she shifted from completely playful in a psychotic-warrior way to the first stage of a serious fight. It wouldn't draw Ironhide or Drift for at least three more stages, plenty of time to play with her and remind her that she might be the Seeker, but they were the best Seeker-killers the Autobots had.

"Now you're talkin'," Sunstreaker breezed, nearly literally as his words could have been carried off by the tactical movements she was making with her body. He drove his pedes harshly backwards, kicking up concrete and dirt, in order to avoid a blade to the chest plates.

He had to give her credit for knowing how to use what she had despite a lack of experience. Even being big for a Seeker, she was as fast and agile as any of them in close combat. She'd probably gotten more practice in it than most her age.

She kept her focus on Sunstreaker except when Sideswipe actually came _close_, took the hits and the pain without complaint and made the twins work hard for every strike given or avoided.

The deep rumbling pitch of her engine and how deadly her aimed strikes were the only indication of how far into the killing mindset she'd suck to at any given moment.

Sunstreaker's internal systems revved loudly, going for any openings Shimmerfire looked to have and was slowly getting frustrated when she countered his strikes each time. He allowed that frustration to fuel his movements, becoming less predictable and counting on his battle experience to come through for him.

~Sideswipe, distract her.~

~You got it,~ the silver mech darted in, using his own legendary speed and fast, powerful jabs to keep her attention, even accepting a slice across his shoulder for it.

While Shimmerfire was plenty distracted with his brother's sudden onslaught, Sunstreaker came around from behind her, scanning bright blue optics over her shimmering frame to find the best point of attack. ~When you see me coming, get out of the way.~

He backed up several paces and used the speed that his pede gave him as momentum to slam his heavy frame into her, thankfully managing to avoid direct contact with her wings as he wasn't keen on being sent to Ratchet for repairs. Whether or not she fell due to the collision was irrelevant; he had simply wanted to alarm her enough to bring up both blades and edge them dangerously close to the firm cables of her neck.

Despite outweighing him and his brother combined, his momentum combined with her being airborne sent her to the dirt on her chest. Shimmerfire snarled, her blades retracted before she hit, and she was immediately pushing up hard to knock him off and allow herself to get up.

"Hey, hey," Sunstreaker warned, grunting when one of her elbows managed to knock him right below the chassis. He emitted a growl, pressing both blades against her neck without puncturing but with enough pressure to get his point across. "If you keep struggling and make me slip, that's your fault."

There was a pause where she froze and really assessed the situation.

Slowly, she tipped her head back and slid her wings towards her body in a mixture of grounder and Seeker displays of submission.

"I yield," she granted him victory, a hint of approval in her voice.

Sunstreaker kept his position until those confirming words left her vocal processor, and after grunting in satisfaction, the golden frontliner swiftly released Shimmerfire and stood. He gave the Seeker a calculative stare.

"Not bad. I doubt I would have gotten that chance if Silver wasn't distracting you." After a few nanokliks of hesitation, he surprised himself and offered her a servo to help her upright.

She looked just as surprised, resetting her optics once before accepting the hand. It didn't matter to anyone that he didn't have the mass to brace her properly, much less pull her to her pedes. All that mattered was the intent behind the gesture as she stood up and regained her balance. "Your reputation is accurate," she dipped her wings briefly in a respectful motion as the disorienting effect of her skin diminished to it's normal iridescent sheen.

"And mine doesn't?" Sideswipe glowered at her.

Shimmerfire chuckled and gave him a grin. "_You_ did damage. _He_ pinned me. Take your pick which is more important."

The golden warrior knew he would have had a much harder time if his brother hadn't been there to back him up, and he was sort of counting on it. "Next time we can see what happens one on one, if you're up to it." His pride called for knowing what would happen if he didn't have his other half aiding him.

"Always," Shimmerfire grinned, her wings flicking in her eager excitement. "Not many around here'll let loose with me like that."

He snorted again, blades retracting to their respectful places above his wrists. "Speaking of damage, no one is bad enough to need to pay Ratchet a visit, right?" His optics fell to glance upon his brother's shoulder, even knowing it was a minor injury that self-repair would handle in a few orns. Then his gaze moved onto Shimmerfire once more. She'd been scratched up, her side oozed energon along the first, and deepest, gash, but it wasn't anything a _warrior_ would go to the medic for.

"I'm good," Sideswipe shook his head, easily rolling around to check out their prize.

"Minor damage," she answered, responding to his look with subtle shifts to show off clean lines and wide, sleek wings; the attractive traits to a Seeker's mind. "Self-repair will do just fine."

"Good," the golden frontliner eased his optics onto Shimmerfire as she showed herself off, a half smirk settling on his face plates. "Because either of you would have been clipped if it was otherwise."

Warrior or not, he still had a protective streak over Sideswipe, not that a little scratch was anything to worry about. After a few moments of observing, he neared the Seeker, eying the energon coating a part of her armor plating.

"Now, you said something about the winner getting to be in charge?" Sideswipe rumbled as he rolled up behind her to graze his fingers along her spinal strut, causing her wings to shiver faintly.

"That was the bet," she murmured, pressing lightly into the touch as her optics dimmed in pleasure.

Sunstreaker paid careful attention to the way Shimmerfire's body reacted to his brother's touch, faintly entertained as she rumbled approval and encouragement. It was especially good knowing what was to come. "In that case, I say our quarters." This was going to be fun; he could tell already. If Shimmerfire was anything in the berth like she was in battle, they were going to enjoy themselves.

His optics brightened in anticipation, pedes kicking up stray debris from their sparring match as he started towards the officer barracks.

Sideswipe continued to stroke her body as he rolled along next to her, guiding her to follow his brother even as he distracted her from walking. He leaned forward to lick a bit of the energon from the gash he'd inflicted, now sealed off by her self-repair systems.

As they neared the barracks, Sunstreaker slowed his pace until he was gliding evenly on the Seeker's other side, sneaking a servo down to brush over her aft, an action that brought him to create a light hum of approval. It had been a while since they had brought a femme to the berth with them.

~And never one this big and strong,~ Sideswipe rumbled in approval across the twin bond as they approached their door. ~I think the rumors about Seekers being interface-nuts just might be true.~

They crossed the threshold and Sunstreaker wasted no time in heading directly for the berthroom. ~All the more fun for us,~ he agreed, swiveling from Shimmerfire's side and urging her closer to the berth. Once she was seated, he began roaming expert fingers across her body experimentally, shifting so that Sideswipe had room to do the same.

He had a hunch that Shimmerfire's wings would be just as sensitive as, say, his pede. Sunstreaker leaned beside her on the berth, gripping lightly at her shoulder while he ran his glossa over the sweet metal of her right wing.

The shuttering moan that escaped her and the light press of her wing towards him was all the confirmation he needed.

Sideswipe grinned and climbed on the berth to nuzzle her neck and play light fingers across the backs of both wings. "She makes such pretty sounds," he rumbled playfully before leaning forward to nip at her neck.

Sunstreaker chuckled lowly in response to his brother's comment, grazing his glossa over the more sensitive areas on her wings, close to the junction on her back. His fingers were digging into dips in her armor where he could stroke them against the wiring beneath. "Let's see how many she can make."

A low, hungry rumbling whine escaped her and she reached out to pull Sunstreaker into her lap and tried to kiss him, her optics already a deep red with lust. Sunstreaker's engine revved beneath his plating, a warm thrum as he pressed his bulk against her and crushed their mouth plates together.

His glossa invaded her mouth without warning, seeking her taste and offering that of his own. The golden warrior used one hand to grip at her helm, the other fondling the curve of the wing closest to him.

Shimmerfire moaned into his mouth, willingly dueling with his glossa as she stroked his back, probing seams in his armor with slender fingers. She shuddered and nearly cried out when Sideswipe got his fingers into the joint where wings met back.

The consistent noises she made were trapped against Sunstreaker's mouth while he sought to completely dominate her glossa. After a few kliks, the golden warrior licked across her denta before roughly pulling back. He puffed out heated air as both servos drifted down her thin waist, gripping the smooth metal on either side and glancing between them to watch as he managed to shift between her parted legs.

Shimmerfire whined at the loss of his mouth and warmth against her chest, but Sideswipe quickly distracted her with cleaver fingers in her wing-joints. She spread her legs for Sunstreaker willingly, her systems already running hot. The change in position brought a whispered scent of lubricant to the twins.

Once he was mostly settled, he did return the warmth of his chassis against hers, since she seemed to miss the contact. Sunstreaker's hands, however, worked lower than her waist, using a clawed finger to lightly tap her interface covering and chuckling after he snuffed at the air. "Get a whiff of that, Silver," he mused, teasingly moving both servos to pinch the delicate wires behind Shimmerfire's kneecaps.

"Smells good," Sideswipe rumbled, revving his engine against her back until she almost keened in arousal.

She tipped her head back, exposing her throat to Sunstreaker fully, and rested it against Sideswipe's shoulder. Slender clawed fingers dipped into fine seams across Sunstreaker's back as she slid her interface cover open with a soft click. Without hesitation her spike began to pressurize as her valve oozed lubricant.

"Slag yeah it does," Sunstreaker gave out absently, eying the thick cables of her neck possessively when she exposed them to him. He gruffly rushed forward, biting down on the more sensitive areas and licking away the beads of energon he might have extracted from clenching his denta too hard.

The smell only increased from there, driving half of the golden frontliner's attention from her throat so he could bring one servo from the back of her knee and tease the outer rim of her valve with a couple fingers.

She shuddered and whined needily at the rough attention, and spread her legs further apart for him. Her wings trembled in anticipation as she leaned back, though Sideswipe's frame stopped her from going all the way down.

"I think she wants you," the silver warrior snickered against her neck.

"Oh, you think?" Of course Sunstreaker knew, but when someone was begging for him like this, he couldn't help but drag it out.

The golden mech leaned back again, admiring the view as he pressed the width of his thumb in and out of her valve a couple of times. Suddenly that wasn't enough; he wanted in. Growling lightly, Sunstreaker retracted the metal covering of his interface panel and sighed in relief when his spike revealed itself.

With Shimmerfire's natural lubricant, he wasted no time in plunging his spike into her, his optics off-lining as a deep groan unfurled from the depths of his circuitry.

"Yessss," she hissed, her valve clenching tightly around him even as she pulled him in for another hard, hungry kiss.

This time when she tried to lay back Sideswipe let her and settled hear her head to stroke her wings.

"What was that, 'Fire?" Sunstreaker smirked, but her tightness despite the lubricant drove his features to contort as another moan erupted from his vocal processor. "Pit... Frag, she's tight," he grumbled, optics flickering.

The golden mech pushed past her tightness literally, bucking his hips into her and grabbing her legs to tuck between his elbows as leverage.

"Harder!" she keened, arching sharply as the pleasure hit her systems fully. She tightened her legs around him and bucked into his thrusts.

"Damn she needs a good frag," Sideswipe purred hotly, his own systems already running hot at watching the scene.

Sunstreaker was slowly unraveling, his coherency giving a turn for the worst when he instead switched to saying naughty things in Cybertronian. In response to her plea, he not only picked up the pace but roughly forced himself as deep as he could go within her heated, tight valve.

~Are you just gonna watch?~ the golden mech hissed through their bond without really meaning to, running his glossa over Shimmerfire's chin and grunting heavily against her whenever she tightened over his spike.

~Where do you want my spike the most?~ Sideswipe rumbled hotly.

Crystalline optics flicked towards the silver mech, another string of now nearly incoherent Cybertronian leaving him that could be roughly translated to _hotfucktightsogood_. Sunstreaker was somewhat aware that his security systems were warning him that he was beginning to overheat.

~Surprise me.~ There was a hint of amusement drifting across their bond until it was completely taken over by rough pleasure.

Sideswipe grinned, retracted his interface panel and pushed his brother's head back so he could settle over Shimmerfire's face. "Lick, pretty one," he crooned to her and was immediately rewarded by the Seeker's glossa plunging into his slick valve.

Sunstreaker grumbled when he was forced to lean back, instead distracting himself with clutching Shimmerfire's thighs and dragging her against him to meet his thrusts.

Then he grabbed his brother's head fins and pulled him down, against his fully pressurized spike's tip while he rubbed the sensitive vents. "Suck me off, bro."

He was in mid thrust when Sideswipe grabbed at him, ripping a moan from his vocal processor, but his silver warrior knew he loved it rough and demanding. Sunstreaker kept his pace with the femme's hips as he took all of his brother's spike into his mouth with ease thanks to vorns of experience.

"Oh yeah," Sideswipe rumbled, rocking his hips in time with Sunstreaker's movements. Even though he wasn't really controlling his brother's head, he came close enough to trigger all the right subroutines and make the golden warrior shiver.

The pleasure Sunstreaker felt from the femmebot's valve aided him in moaning loudly, causing the vibration from it to thrum over Sideswipe's spike in his mouth. He grazed his denta over the slick sides of it, cheek plates shifting inwards while he gave a powerful suck.

Sunstreaker could feel a spasm shuddering up through his spinal struts until it brought a pleasant shiver out of him. In a way, both he and his brother were such cheats; they knew exactly what to do to each other.

Below them Shimmerfire trembled and keened, her pleasure quickly escalating as she stroked the pair. With her overload quickly approaching, instinct took over and her chest plates unlocked to slide open, bathing the pair in the brilliant blue light of her pulsing spark.

The sudden light beneath him momentarily surprised the mech. He was a bit hardened when it came to spark merges, being the sociopath that he was. Generally, the only mech he felt he could be completely open with was his brother for obvious reasons. ~What...?~

~She must _really_ like you,~ Sideswipe crooned encouragingly despite his own surprise. ~Go on, bro. If anybody can accept you, it's this one.~

Sunstreaker's spark fluttered uncomfortably, hesitant for stubborn reasons. He was sobering slowly, although his body refused to let up on the aches and pains of ecstasy.

~Don't sound so confident,~ he growled in return, jerking his hips almost angrily and sparking the return of his rhythm. His glossa rubbed into the tip of Sideswipe's spike.

Eventually, he did give in. The thought of a spark merge and the pleasure it brought was too tempting to ignore, and he had control over himself when he really put his processor to it. Sunstreaker's optics offlined as a hiss indicated the parting of his chest plates, and a returning glow of a sun kissed spark accompanied the tender blue.

The first touch of her spark, just a slender tendril reaching out for his, was a mindless rush of pure pleasure that nearly sent all three over the edge.

Then came the sense of _Shimmerfire_. Her youth, younger than even they'd anticipated with only a handful of vorns in her adult frame. The feel of wind sliding against sensor-rich wings with a heady pleasure that wasn't arousal. Her draw to them as powerful warriors with sleek frames built for speed. Her frustration with the Aerialbots and Tread Bolt. Hatred for Starscream and desire for the Winglord to sire her young. Thoughts of little Seekers flitting around, already capable fliers less than a vorn after birth.

~Frag, she's not shielding at all,~ Sideswipe nearly panicked at the realization.

So many sudden images, thoughts and emotions clouded his processor, completely Shimmerfire, and that was only a mere tendril of touch between their sparks. Out of reflex, he managed to focus on his brother's voice and jerked back, ripping the contact apart between his spark and hers.

She snarled, inarticulate, at the sudden loss just as her systems were really revving up, but didn't try to stop him from pulling away.

~No more,~ he snapped, pulling his mouth plates away from Sideswipe's spike just as his chest plates closed firmly. Already sensing some form of disappointment, he reached up and pulled his brother down, trapping similar lips against his own and dominating that mouth out of sheer frustration for nearly letting himself go.

Shimmerfire didn't seem to be reacting because she had been planning it, so Sunstreaker couldn't really blame her for it. His hips crashed into hers again. The memories that weren't his were still swimming around in his processor, frustrating him further. ~Need you.~

~Anytime, bro,~ Sideswipe murmured across their bond and slid his chest plates open without hesitation. ~You know I love it.~

This time Sunstreaker's chest plates hissed open quicker than the hesitance with Shimmerfire, anticipating the close, intimate contact with his brother. Pressing chassis to chassis, the golden mech moaned loudly in satisfaction while their pulsing sparks eagerly reached out to meet each other with more familiarity than any bonded pair. After all, _their_ sparks were literally reaching out for the rest of itself.

The soothing familiarity quickly pushed the alien chaos of Shimmerfire out of his awareness and he lost track of much of what was going on. There was just his brother he was kissing and the hot valve he was thrusting into and the pleasure building in both frontliners' frames.

~Love you, bro,~ Sideswipe moaned against him, shuddering as Shimmerfire's tongue worked his valve and her hand came up to work his abandoned spike.

Sunstreaker gave enough thought to buck against Shimmerfire, but nothing else filled his processor more than purely the missing part of his spark that he was now connected to.

Golden servos gripped gently at his brother's helm, rolling their glossa together and rapidly falling apart under the pleasure he couldn't even begin to describe. ~I love you,~ Sunstreaker managed to put the thought together, coupled with the ongoing Cybertronian passing between them affectionately.

There was really nothing that quite compared to this, especially to an egotistical sociopath like Sunstreaker.

Sideswipe lost his battle to delay overload first. He didn't even know if it was his brother's mouth, his spark, Shimmerfire's mouth or hand that finally set him off. All he knew for a split-nanoklik before everything went white with the overload was that this was _good_ and he wanted it again.

Were Sunstreaker not processor deep in his brother's spark, he would have waited until Shimmerfire had her overload, but came a fraction of a nanoklik after he felt Sideswipe overload. Experience kept him from needing to offline momentarily, but his sensors went haywire and everything felt upside down and inside out.

He managed to stabilize with the constant thrum of their sparks, coming back to reality with enough thought process to rest his forehead plates against his brother's. "Slag, that was amazing." Sunstreaker could faintly hear the click of his engine fans attempting to cool his frame. ~But you're always amazing.~

~Mmm, we are always amazing,~ Sideswipe hummed in contentment.

The pair were still coming down when they felt Shimmerfire's hand reach up to stroke and tease them, trying to draw at least a little attention her way.

~You want to finish her?~ Sideswipe asked with a lingering kiss.

Sunstreaker glanced down at the femme underneath them, an amused snort leaving him as he licked at Sideswipe's mouth. ~She'll never know what hit her.~

He nipped at his brother's mouth plates before slipping lower, ducking underneath Sideswipe's legs to greet Shimmerfire. "Miss me?" he asked huskily, swiftly pulling out of her valve and shifting out from on top of her. "Okay, let's switch, bro. I get her mouth, you get her valve. That okay with you, 'Fire?" Not that it mattered, since they won their rights to be in charge.

She nodded, keeping the whine at being pulled out of under control as she watched them move. Her systems were screaming for an overload she was too close to to easily dissipate and her core programming was calling just as loudly to try for a spark-merge with the silver one after the tiny taste she'd had of the golden one.

Sideswipe was between her legs, his hand sliding along her spike before driving his into her valve until their bodies clanked together sharply.

A smirk adorned Sunstreaker's face plates as he stroked his spike to full length one more, prodding at the Seeker's mouth with its tip as he moved to get a good angle.

She opened her mouth to take him in with out hesitation, tipping her head back to give a cleaner angle down the intake tube in her throat and stretched her glossa out to swirl around the hard, golden length.

Sideswipe moaned at the sight as he began to thrust, hard, deep and fast against her trembling frame.

Sunstreaker gritted his denta, holding back his noises simply so he could hear the pretty ones that Shimmerfire and Sideswipe made together. He couldn't help an initial buck from the attention her mouth gave him. "Slag ... It's tight here, too," he mused. His vents gave a shudder when she constricted her throat tubing around the invasion and tried to suck him further in.

The golden mech's optics off-lined again, allowing his other sensors to pick up all the pleasure for him, heightened from not putting equal power into those he usually saw with.

Sideswipe groaned with a nod, his body all too aware that she was entirely too close to last until he was ready to overload again.

"Open up, babe," the silver warrior reached forward to tap her chest plates. He wasn't sure to be concerned or honored when they opened before he'd even finished speaking. Either way, he unlocked his own chest plates, bathing her in the golden glow that matched his twin's, and lowered his chest to hers.

Faintly aware that he was overheating again, Sunstreaker's optics flared to life once more when he heard his brother's voice, an excited anticipation rising at being able to see him unfold at this perspective.

Mentally, he stayed far away from their connection, simply enjoying the sight of it and using it as further motivation to slowly thrust inside of her mouth. "Close," he growled.

Shimmerfire wrapped her thick legs around Sideswipe's, helping him thrust into her harder and locking him against her frame. Her hands came up to help guide Sunstreaker hips, urging him to thrust harder down her open throat.

He could feel her tremble around his spike, feel her squeeze and shiver around his brother's.

The overload cascaded across her systems first, sending an intensely powerful rush of energy into Sideswipe's spark that made his body arch sharply to press his chest against hers even more and his hips against hers as hard as possible. The silver warrior whined, clutching at her blindly as his systems overloaded, shunting the power into her as the universe whited out and his systems responded to the demands of the spark linked to his for every scrap of charge it could spare.

Once he could almost literally feel their sensations of overloads, Sunstreaker followed suit, a deep series of moans strung out from his vocal processor as he tossed his head back and spurted his transfluid into her hot, awaiting mouth with every grind of his hips forward.

He took deep intakes from the warmed air around them, rapping his claw tipped digits lightly over Shimmerfire's helm to coax his spike out of her mouth.

She moaned, but relaxed her throat tubing and opened her mouth to allow him to slide out more easily, licking it along the way as best her still-disoriented systems could manage. When Sideswipe began to lift his chest away, she wrapped both arms around him, trying to hold him against her as her systems began to rev again.

"Let go," Sideswipe's tone was a deadly demand, but her compliance, however reluctant, brought relief as both sets of chest plates closed.

Sunstreak's optics hardened suddenly from the tone his brother had to use in order to relieve himself of Shimmerfire's grip, only slightly easing afterward. He slipped further down the berth and pressed a possessive kiss to his brother's lips that was eagerly returned. ~She's a weird one.~

~She's a Seeker, and a damn young one at that,~ Sideswipe reminded him, but with the words came things he'd learned in the merge. The strongest of which was just how much she, and Seekers in general, were driven by their core programming to a level unheard of in other mechs. ~The joke about them being bird-brains and not real Cybertronians wasn't that far off. She wants 'babies' and likes us for the job.~

Sunstreaker peered down at Shimmerfire observantly, watching her watch them until she cracked and reached for them again, brushing her fingers along his hip in a silent request for more.

He snorted audibly, turning his head to nip at one of Sideswipe's audio receptors. ~I ain't giving her any babies, _that's_ for sure. But I guess she's not through yet. I could finish her off if you don't want anymore.~ Sunstreaker growled, a low rumble as his engine revved when she managed to slip her fingers against tender wires on his waist.

~It's not like we could even if we wanted to,~ Sideswipe reminded him without trying to hide the wistful longing in his spark. ~Go ahead, bro. She won't try for a spark-merge with you again.~

Sunstreaker frowned immensely, torn at not being able to give his brother what he wanted.

~It's okay, bro,~ Sideswipe immediately responded with a kiss to his head fin. ~You can't change what we are.~

Sunstreaker dipped his head and kissed silver shoulder plating before moving back over Shimmerfire, this time aligning himself so that his spike and valve were close to her mouth plates, and hers to his. His glossa gave her spike a long, feathered lick while two fingers worked her slick valve.

She shivered and immediately mimicked his actions, though she took his spike's tip into her mouth and swirled her glossa around it after that first lick to slowly work it down her intake.

He tried not to dwell on thoughts for the moment, instead focusing on shoving a forefinger deeply into her valve and smirking against her spike when she clenched it. The golden mech grazed his denta over the pressurized tip and hummed against it in a moan while she worked his own. He felt her shiver under him and suck harder when pressing her fingers deeper before sliding them out to press into his valve again.

He felt her shiver under him and suck harder while pressing her fingers deeper before sliding them out to press into his valve again.

The golden mech bucked without thinking, his heated engine thrumming as the bulk of his body pressed down against hers. She warmed him in turn, leaving nearly every sensation overwhelming his sensors. He sucked over her spike, pressing a third digit into her valve.

She rocked into the motion, squeezing around his fingers even as she tried to push them in deeper. A third finger pressed into Sunstreaker's valve as his spike disappeared completely into her mouth and town her intake tube. She sucked eagerly, working her throat around his spike as worked his valve with her fingers, seeking out sensor nodes in the slick space to rub.

A deep growl of pleasure left him greedy for more, his hips pulsing to wedge his spike as far as it would go into her mouth while he did the same for hers, only bobbing his head so that he could create friction with his sucks. Cooling fans were working overtime on both parts, trying to bring them down from the overload they both knew was coming.

She rocked her hips, trying to increase the friction as she moved her head and hand to increase his. A deep, low groan rumbled through her entire frame as base programming took over with the first powerful tendrils of overload curling through her frame.

Sunstreaker could feel his own valve clenching over her claw-tipped fingers and his own engine roaring between them as the fans were no longer working to try and cool him. He swallowed every last drop of transfluid her spike gave to him, his own hips jerking as his overload ripped through him like a stroke of lightning.

Slowly, he recovered, rolling off Shimmerfire to land beside her on the wide berth, grunting lightly with a mixture of satisfaction and irritation. "Slag it, my fans stopped working."

"I can look," she offered, closing her interface panel and sitting up as she twisted around on the berth to face him.

~Or it's Ratchet,~ Sideswipe added, a hand on his shoulder.

Sunstreaker looked up when Shimmerfire offered, his spike retracting before he allowed his interface panel to hiss shut as well. "Yeah, if you think you can do anything about it," he mumbled, optics shifting to his brother's hand. ~Like _Pit_ I would go to Ratchet with glitching fans when I smell like 'facing. That's a lecture waiting to happen.~

"I had to fix my carrier's a couple times, and mine," she said with a flick of her wings. "Open up," she asked politely.

The golden frontliner hummed in acknowledgment, the armor plating shifting just below his chassis to reveal the complex wiring and mechanics beneath. From there, one could actually see the bottom of his spark chamber, but he was content with it completely closed off and safe.

She didn't seem to be paying it any attention as she spotted the first of two fans near his engine that had stopped spinning.

"It's hot," he lightly complained, optics narrowed on Shimmerfire and turning to his brother beside him.

"Your fans aren't working and you need them," she chided him as long, slender fingers began to check wires and whether the fan could physically move. "Of course it's hot."

Sunstreaker snorted, though mildly amused at how much she could talk now that they didn't have her pinned to the berth. "I know, hence complaining," he informed her, sounding completely serious, which was one awkward way he expressed his humor.

Sideswipe shook his head slightly and simply watched as she made methodical progress through the possible causes that were within her skill-base to troubleshoot.

Sunstreaker sighed in contentment when the off-lined fans, one by one, began to power up again, albeit weaker than normal. He was just glad to get cooler, since too much heat made him uncomfortable.

"Thanks," he grunted. "Maybe after some recharge tonight, they'll be good as new." He hoped so, since paying Ratchet a visit for malfunctioning engine fans weren't his forte.

"As long as you don't stress them before that, they should," Shimmerfire said as she backed away and let him close his chassis. "Very minor damage." She cocked her head slightly. "Has it happened before?"

"No, not that I can recall." Sunstreaker shook his head, reaching a servo up rub along one of his head fins. "I probably just need a tune up sometime. This planet's dust must be wearing me down."

Shimmerfire snorted. "This place is more than enough to wear any systems down. Ratchet's going to need a dozen more medics to cover all the basic maintenance we'll need."

The golden warrior groaned from agreement, shaking his head in distaste. "It's no wonder they call the planet _Earth_. It's everywhere. Fragging annoying, if you ask me." He glanced at his brother again. ~You're awfully quiet. What are you thinking about?~

~Nothing important,~ Sideswipe shook his head faintly.

Sunstreaker was caught in a frowning scowl, prodding lightly at his brother through their bond. Sometimes "nothing important" ended up being something _entirely_ important, and he didn't like Sideswipe keeping things from him if they were.

"Even in the upper atmosphere," Shimmerfire grumbled before slipping of the berth to stretch and flex her entire frame. "Anyone joining me in the wash racks?"

"Like I said, 'Fire, it's _everywhere_," he huffed. The golden frontliner's hydraulics whirred as he shifted, optics flicking over her shimmering frame. "I think I might as well. Maybe a wash is all my fans need; fragging Earth grime."

~Just thinking too much about what can't happen,~ Sideswipe elaborated and stood with his brother before leading the way to their private wash racks, one of the luxuries they hadn't had in a very long time. "And we all definitely need a good wash."

Sunstreaker's optics narrowed for good reason, his spark settling uncomfortably in its chamber. Sideswipe had been more contemplative on the subject than he ever had since joining Prime on Earth. It was partially - no, mostly - his fault that he couldn't even agree to a socket to share. But even so, Sideswipe had a yearning for something Sunstreaker couldn't give him.

~We'll talk later,~ he promised, catching his brother in a brief kiss, as if that alone would seal the deal. Sunstreaker followed to two, eagerly in favor of being clean.


	3. Hunting Pleasure 1: Lesbians and Mechs

**Fandom**: Transformers Bayverse (POV'verse)  
**Author**: gatekat and _wilderness_ on LJ  
**Pairing**: Jazz/Prowl, Amy Parva  
**Rating**: NC-17 mech/mech  
**Codes**: Slash, Xeno (Transformer/Human), Sticky, Female Masturbation  
**Summary**: After dropping Cathy off from these events of (community .livejournal .com/tf_matrix/17854 .html) Jazz and Prowl head out to find someone more willing to play. Part of the RP Amy Parva to the Rescue RP (community .livejournal .com/tf_matrix/17648 .html)  
**Notes**: RP written in the Point of View fanverse explained (community .livejournal .com/ tf_matrix) and pretty much in story as well.

* * *

**Shades of Grey 3:**  
**Hunting Pleasure 1: Lesbians and Mechs**

* * *

It was early morning and Amy Parva was taking her regular run around the base. Every morning since finishing basic training, she'd run, the feel of hitting the tarmac first thing in the morning exhilarating in itself. Not to mention the added health benefits. Since transferring to the NEST base as part of the Quartermasters department, dealing with supplies, she'd found that she needed the extra exercise.

Well, that wasn't strictly true. With the socket she'd had installed when she arrived, she found herself more amenable to many things. Especially the mechs on the base. They required organic energy to power their sparks. Energy they got from pleasurable activities. With so many more mechs arriving on Earth on what seemed like a daily basis, and every one of them wanting energy... it was like a girl's dream come true. Well, she figured it probably was. She hadn't actually... 'interfaced' with any of the mechs on the base, they really weren't her type. But the ones that were open enough to understand that, she didn't mind indulging. A little masturbation had the same effect and they both got a good deal. Besides, there really weren't that many lesbians in the United States Army. Or if there were, they kept quiet about it, just like she did. No one wanted the added hassle of that. And she didn't mind serving as a ... what was the new phrase for it ... energizer bunny for the mechs that needed it. And just avoided the whole claiming issue.

She stumbled at the mere thought of that, barely regaining her footing before she could faceplant on the tarmac. "Now stop thinking about that while you're running." She chastised herself, setting a harder pace.

As she finished her run, she noticed a gleaming silver car that barely looked like it was from Earth and a much more normal Crown Victoria police car in black and white driving towards her.

'Uh oh' was her immediate reaction. She knew exactly who those two were and it didn't bode well that they were headed in her direction. She tried to remember the last supply run that was made as to whether anything illegal had come in. Although she was sure that Red Alert would have been down on her like a ton of bricks if there was.

Amy stopped, standing there, waiting for Jazz and Prowl to reach her. Jazz, with typical flair, barely slowed down before transforming with a couple 360s to land on his feet, while Prowl came to a more dignified stop and transformed. Whatever was up, Jazz was at least smiling, and Prowl's scowl didn't seem _too_ far out of the norm. She absently wondered if the mech even knew how to smile.

"Hey Amy," Jazz grinned and dropped into a crouch to be closer to her eye level. "You wouldn't have an hour or two to spare for a mech in need?"

"I've got a few hours to kill." She shaded her eyes against the sun and looked up at Jazz. "You the mech that's in need then?" It seemed to be a well-known fact that she was more than prepared to help out anyone.

Prowl made an utterly indignant sound, but was ignored by his bonded.

Amy glanced across at Prowl as he made a noise she didn't recognize. "What's his problem?"

"Somewhere between my being blatant that's why we drove up and the idea that he might not get back to work for a couple hours," Jazz gave her a wicked grin and folded into his alt mode. "He's the one in need, really. He doesn't get to go back to work until he's had a good charge."

"Heh. I'm guessing you guys know my rules an' all?" She tilted her head and stepped towards Jazz. "He'll follow, won't he?" She whispered conspiratorially.

"Yes," Jazz answered easily. "Though I'm game to use a holoform you'd find appealing too. And yes, he'll follow. He knows he can't break a lock I set up."

She straightened briefly and looked at Prowl. "The Chief Menacing Officer gave you orders eh?"

"Worse," he said evenly as he folded into his alt as well. "Chief Moral Officer."

"Who happens to be his bonded, so I know _exactly_ how badly he needs this," Jazz added. "He just hates getting dragged out of his office."

"He's got you banged to rights." Amy looked up at Prowl. "And it can't be all bad, can it?" She winked at Jazz before slipping inside. "Lead on boys."

"Thanks," Jazz purred at her and rolled towards the Cybertronian officer's quarters.

"No, it is not bad at all," Prowl admitted over Jazz's internal speakers. "His timing could simply be better."

Settling herself in Jazz's seats, she barely jumped as Prowl's voice echoed around the interior.

"I gave you two weeks, Prowler," Jazz teased. "Now it's my turn to arrange it."

"My designation is Prowl," he sighed. "Amy, I understand you prefer mechs to not touch you?"

"Yeah, it ain't exactly something I enjoy, no offence to you guys or anything." She shrugged. "I'm just not into that."

"No offense taken," Prowl's voice was colored with an emotion she couldn't quite place. "It makes you all the more special that you are willing to help us. Can we provide anything that would make this better for you?"

Ducking her head to try and hide the blush, Amy muttered her thanks. "And as for providing anything ... I dunno. Never really had anything to help so to speak." A few fantasies and maybe a bit of lube was all she really needed most of the time. She realized she hadn't answered Jazz's question - unsure as to whether she could handle a female form even though she knew it was a mech behind the projection.

"Well until Blaster gets here, I'm the media master of the base," Jazz happily spoke up. "If it's digital, I have it. Music, films, a scene, sound effects ... I could read ta ya in any voice ya like."

"He's not joking, for once," Prowl said dryly, though there was a bit of humor there too. "If you give him an idea of who or what you'd like, I know he can make his holoform match flawlessly."

"And why doesn't it surprise me that you have access to all that?" Amy asked wryly.

"Because ya've heard ah me?" Jazz laughed.

Visions of being seduced by various Hollywood actresses crossed her mind before she chased them away. "I think it would be weird to get it on with someone I fantasized about." She admitted honestly. "But thanks for the offer guys, really."

"A'course," Jazz told her easy as they drove down the hallways of the building containing the Cybertronian officer's quarters. Jazz pulled to a stop in front of one of the doors and opened his passenger door while Prowl transformed and palmed the controller. The door slid open to a dimly lit living room with giant furniture ... a double desk, couch, entrainment center that rivaled the new rec room in hanger 10, and three doors that led further in.

Prowl offered her a hand to ride while Jazz transformed. She climbed into Prowl's hand and settling down, taking a brief moment to look around. She'd never been near the officer's quarters. Most of the mechs who sought her out were enlisted 'grunts'. Not that she'd complained.

"Nice place you got yourselves here." She could certainly see Jazz's influences, and she suspected that what she couldn't attribute to him was Prowl's tastes.

"Being second and third in command, and a bonded couple, gives a lot of perks on a base this small," Jazz grinned.

"I'll say it has its perks," she agreed.

As they walked into a second, smaller room she looked around again. This one looked much more like the quarters she was used to, though it was clearly meant for two with a large double berth sitting near the center of the room so both sides were easily gotten in and out of. A simple metal chest sat at the foot of the berth, and a smaller one in the far corner. There was a small comm setup in the corner, carefully facing away from both berth and door.

Jazz smiled and sat down next to Prowl on the berth. "Now since we can't do anything for you, do you mind if I molest my bonded while you're feeling good?" his voice was pure want, low and seductive, his hands just barely not touching Prowl's armor.

Even without any connection in place she could almost feel how it affected the white mech. They were an ancient couple still had the kind of passion that usually only existed in the first few months. Prowl set her down on the 'pillow', and she looked up at him, watching the cable. Reaching out to take the end of it and plug herself in, she smiled as she answered Jazz, "Sure thing. Just ... don't expect me ta join in, 'kay?"

"We don't," Prowl promised before Jazz silenced him with a heated kiss and nimble fingers slipped into the seams and gaps in his armor.

She watched the way they interacted, the need she could hear in Jazz's voice. And what a voice, low and sultry and everything she could want ... except that it was from a man. Stifling a sigh, she settled down, stretching out along the pillow. Even though she wasn't particularly interested in watching two mechs get it on, she found herself fascinated by the show of love and affection. Slipping one hand down her jogging pants, she fingered herself slowly, subconsciously keeping pace with them.

Prowl moaned deeply, sending pulses of pure pleasure to her through the cable as Jazz moved down to nibble on his neck while Prowl worked his fingers into the seam's of Jazz's back armor, murmuring to him in Cybertronian. Now out of 'officer' mode, Prowl's voice deepened, showing the pleasure of the situation openly.

Amy gasped at the feelings coming across the link, fingers curling against herself. She shifted, giving herself better access, but still watching them. She wasn't getting turned on watching them, not at all. That's what she kept trying to tell herself. The wetness coating her fingers told a completely different story however.

Jazz continued to work his way down Prowl's body, lavishing attention on every inch, every seam and edge of armor plating. When he reached the center of Prowl's chest he paused, offing a long kiss to the spot before playing his tongue around the inner edges of the large red chevron that decorated Prowl's chest.

Something very close to an electronic howl escaped Prowl, a primal sound that could only come when control was nearly gone. The pulses of pleasure he sent to her grew stronger, more erratic, as Jazz continued to lavish attention to that spot. Distantly she was aware of Jazz's low, lustful growls and the way his elegant silver frame trembled under his lover's stroking touches to his back.

Slipping two fingers inside herself, Amy pumped them in and out gently, legs splayed apart as she pleasured herself. Her first orgasm took her by surprise, creeping up on her. She clamped down around her own fingers, letting out a soft cry, the sheer pleasure shooting across the link.

Prowl barely had a chance to be surprised before the efforts of his lover and the rush of energy from Amy made him cry out sharply, his hips and chest both arching up, trying to press against the mech above him. He barely had time time to think about blunting the feedback he sent to her as the intense pleasure bordering on pain raced through his systems.

Jazz gave a small moan, trembling as he continued to kiss and caress his lover through the overload and aftershocks, his touch gentle and soothing until Prowl relaxed, panting through vents and overworked cooling fans.

"Oh shit," the feedback from Prowl sent Amy straight into another orgasm, one so powerful, she swore she could feel her eyes rolling back in her head. She clutched at the 'pillow' with her free hand, trying to ground herself as it rolled through her.

When she could focus again, still gasping for air and trembling slightly, she saw the pair looking at her. Jazz was still laying on top of Prowl, tracing patterns on his chest armor with one clawed finger while Prowl stroked his back.

"Thank you," Prowl's voice was low, still a little fuzzy from his overload.

"Yeah, very much," Jazz almost purred, his arousal and need reflected clearly in the deep vibrations of his voice.

"Thank me? I should be the one thanking you for that. I've never... never felt anything quite so strong as that." She sat up shakily. "You really needed that, didn't you?"

"Yes," Prowl admitted quietly. "I did nothing unusual however," he sounded a touch confused.

"Nothing unusual for us," Jazz corrected him gently with a lingering kiss. "I doubt most of the youngsters know the link can go both ways."

"If you wish, I will take you wherever you wish to be next," Prowl almost managed his normal, business-like tone. It didn't take much to figure out that he not only didn't want to move, he very much didn't want to leave his lover in such a state, even if it was just for a few minutes.

"I don't think I could move even if I wanted to. 'Sides, I don't want to interrupt you." Amy thought she might actually be able to fall asleep here.

"Thank'ya," Jazz rumbled.

Prowl unhooked the cable from her and turned his full attention to the mech above him. A few softly spoken exchanges in their own language and Prowl caught the silver Saboteur in his arms and rolled over. Jazz relaxed and reached up to caress the odd wing-like extensions on Prowl's back, drawing another moan from the white mech.

Amy actually felt a little disappointed as Prowl disconnected his cable from her neck. She turned over on her side, watching them. She could smell herself amongst the oil and mech smell that lingered in the room; a smell that was decidedly intoxicating.

Prowl chided him lightly in Cybertronian, Jazz grinned cheekily back before throwing his head back with a ragged moan when Prowl ground their hips together and kissed him hard. There was a soft click and snick, and Prowl moved down to kneel between Jazz's spread knees. The silver mech's hands flew to the berth to grab hold of anything as his hips were lifted slightly to give his lover a better angle and that knowing, soft, all-too-skilled glossa slid around the edge of his valve to set the sensor nodes there alight.

Jazz let out an inarticulate sound, half moan, half plea for more and rocked his hips shamelessness before his lover and her.

This was certainly more than she'd seen before. Most of her interactions had been quick and hurried, the pleasure consuming both of them quickly. This, however, was drawn out, teasing between lovers who cared deeply for one another.

"Man, you guys are so lucky." She murmured without thinking.

From between Jazz's legs, Prowl gave her a quick look and smiled knowingly before focusing once more on his bonded.

Jazz was already too far gone to respond, but he let go of the edge of the berth and grabbed hold of a low bar at the head of the berth instead. It stretched his body out, making a better display for the mech lavishing attention on his trembling frame.

"Ohhh Prowler," he moaned, the tremble audible as well as visible.

Amy debated crawling closer, but decided that getting squished wasn't on her agenda for now.

"How does he taste?" She whispered, knowing that Prowl would hear her.

A slight tremor passed down Prowl's frame, and he answered without lifting his mouth from Jazz's twitching valve.

"Rich, sweet, and very intoxicating," his voice, even over speakers, sounded nothing like his usual one. This voice was rich and full of emotion as Jazz whimpered, twitched and rambled, switching through languages from Earth and beyond seemingly at random. "It does more to me than the finest high-grade."

Jazz moaned loudly, his frame stiffening slightly before he forced himself to relax again as he gasped for cool air to ease the pleasurable burning inside him.

"And he's certainly enjoying it." She really hadn't given much thought to the Autobots having what she would consider both male and female parts. The mechs she'd been with had wanted to concentrate on their spikes if they wanted pleasure.

"Take him over the edge." She whispered, feeling that familiar tingle beginning.

Prowl rumbled and grinned, pressing his glossa deeply into his bonded, flicking it against sensor node clusters and swirling around the slick space.

Jazz thrashed his head side to side, his vocals descending into Cybertronian, if they meant anything. A sharp, strangled cry came out with heavy static as his body arched off the berth as much as his grip on the bar and the firm hold Prowl had on his hips allowed.

The silver frame froze there, static-heavy sobs escaping as he rode out the overload.

Amy couldn't help but let out a moan as she watched Jazz overload.

"That was..." She wasn't sure how to put it into words. All she knew was that the display had made her socket tingle. Not to mention it had made her wet all over again.

When Prowl finally withdrew his glossa Jazz began to relax. Then did a little more when his hips were set gently on the berth and Prowl moved forward to hover over his burningly hot chassis. He eventually managed to coordinate a grab for the back of Prowl's helm and pulled him down for a long, glossa-dueling kiss to taste himself on his bonded.

The kiss finally broke and Prowl tilted his head to smiled at her. "Thank you."

Jazz made an inarticulate sound, and Prowl chuckled before giving him another quick kiss. "The great Jazz, speechless?" he teased, his voice rich with affection and amusement. He shifted, rolling to his back while being careful of his sensor-wings and pulled Jazz against him.

The silver mech made a contended sound and began to drift into recharge as he tucked himself under Prowl's chin like they'd been made to fit together.

Prowl looked at her, his bright blue optics dim and a small smile on his face. "Would you like assistance with reaching another orgasm?"

She'd forgotten about their sensors and squirmed, a little embarrassed. If she opened her mouth now, she was sure she'd just squeak, so she settled for saying nothing.

"My apologies," Prowl said quietly and turned his optics completely off as he cycled towards recharge himself. "Say my designation when you wish to leave."

It took nearly half an hour for Amy to calm herself down and convince herself that she could walk out of here. Stepping to the edge of the berth she decided that it wasn't such a long way down and lowered herself down.

She landed awkwardly, twisting her ankle and biting back a curse. She glanced back up at the berth, hoping she hadn't woken them up before limping towards the door.

"Amy," Jazz was the first to speak over the burst of metallic movement behind her. She jumped as they both moved and Jazz spoke.

"I didn't want to wake you." She tried to protest, leaning against the door.

"You should have said you were ready to leave," Prowl objected, though there seemed to be little of his trademark irritation, just worry, in his voice.

Jazz was the first to her, transforming smoothly into his sleek alt and opened the passenger door right next to her. "Ah'll take ya to tha human medic, unless ya prefer Ratch."

As Jazz transformed, she had little choice but to get in, actually grateful for being able to take the weight off her ankle. "It's fine, just twisted it, that's all."

"Then the medic should release you quickly," Prowl said as he palmed the door controls so Jazz could drive out, far faster than was regulation for the base, much less the hallways, but for once he didn't correct his bonded for it. There was good cause.


	4. Hunting Pleasure 2: Amy Parva to the Res

**Fandom**: Transformers Bayverse (POV'verse)  
**Author**: gatekat and _wilderness_ on LJ  
**Pairing**: Jazz/Prowl/Amy Parva  
**Rating**: NC-17 for mech/mech  
**Codes**: Slash, Het, Xeno (Transformer/Human), Sticky  
**Summary**: Jazz visits Amy while she's on desk duty, entices her to come 'tease' Prowl, but things don't go according to plan.  
**Notes**: RP written in the Point of View fanverse (community .livejournal .com/tf_matrix) **"text"** translated Cybertronian.

* * *

**Shades of Grey 4:  
Hunting Pleasure 2: Amy Parva to the Rescue**

* * *

Amy groaned, stretching out her leg and trying to rotate her ankle without wincing. Being stuck on desk duty was boring. Hardly anyone came to the supply room for anything interesting. And she couldn't even go running!

Of course, she wouldn't have changed the situation for anything. And it had actually given her food for thought. She had never considered mechs using their valves particularly. But then, she'd never been with a bonded pair before. Perhaps that was something to experiment with. And the use of these holograms Jazz had mentioned.

Sighing, she returned to her paperwork, wishing that someone would at least pop by to provide conversation.

"How'ya feeling, Amy?" Jazz's unique lilt greeted her.

Amy looked up, almost surprised to see Jazz, especially after what had happened. Somehow now, it felt like she'd run out on them. "Hey Jazz, what can I do for you?"

"I'm just checking in on ya," he grinned and dropped down to lounge on the floor so he'd be optic-to-eye with her. "You can expect Prowl in a couple days, but don't tell him I told you."

"Ah... because of this?" She stuck her leg out so Jazz could see the bandage. "It's fine, really it is. Teach me to be so stupid as to try and jump down from a berth."

The silver mech chuckled. "Yes to both," his optic band flashed in his amusement. "Though ya could learn to with a little practice. It's not that far, ya just have ta know howta land."

Amy snorted. "Thanks for the sympathy." She teased. "And it's not as if I actually make a habit of jumping off mech's berths you know. And I don't want to make it a habit. Far more comfortable not to. And I don't get restricted to desk duty." She made a face.

He grimaced in real sympathy. "And ya don't even have th' option of bein' in stasis while ya heal. That so sucks. But other than th' stuck at th' desk, how're things goin' for ya?"

"And it's not something I'm even going to talk to Ratchet about, so don't suggest that!" She held up a finger to forestall him. "As much as I like him, I don't want him asking questions as to how exactly I did it. The doc was bad enough."

Amy shrugged. "But aside from that, things have been okay." It had been quiet the last couple of days, desk duty, little company and no mechs asking her for help.""

"Aww, I can't believe that," Jazz sounded utterly scandalized for her. "I can send the next mech-in-need to ta, or ya can help me drag Prowl outa his office," he added mischievously.

"Heh, is he working too hard for your liking again?" Amy leant back in her chair, looking over at Jazz.

He laughed, a light, musical sound. "He's always workin' too hard for my likin'. Can't blame the mech for doing what he was programmed to, but it's frustraitin'."

"Some would say you're too horny for your own good Jazz." She folded her arms over her chest. "You want him out of the just to snuggle with him." She unfolded her arms long enough to airquote 'snuggle'.

Jazz laughed riotously. "I worked hard to get him. Can't blame a mech for wanting more time with such a prize, can ya?"

Tilting her head as though she was having to seriously think on the question, Amy finally answered.

"Suppose not." The smile on her face would tell Jazz that she was only teasing. "And I'm game for helping. Shift's just about over anyway." She stood up, reaching for the cane the doctors had given her to help her move about, though they'd told her not to rely on it.

"Great!" Jazz cheered with entirely too much plotting amusement. "Did you know that once our sparks get used to having socket energy again, they want it every day?"

"You don't say..." Amy drawled, knowing damn well that he was lying, but more than prepared to play along. "Guess I'd best make myself available to ya more often then."

"Anything to keep my bonded healthy," Jazz grinned mischievously before folding into his alt mode and opening the passenger side door. Once she was inside and the door closed, ensuring privacy of the conversation as he began driving, he spoke again, his tone much more serious. "Would you like a list of those with similar preferences on base?"

"A list of those with similar preferences?" Amy goggled at the dashboard. "Are you telling me you know who's straight and who's gay on the base?"

"With a reasonable level of accuracy," he actually sounded a little surprised at her shock. "There's an ever growing list of bisexuals, a few that aren't interested in humans and the small but ever-present group that just aren't interested in anybody or anything. Knowing who to hit on and how kept me alive more missions than I care to think about. Humans are even easier than most. Your biochemistry gives it away."

"I imagine it's a lot easier for you with all your sensors." She pretended to grump. "It's a lot more difficult for us mere mortals. Particularly in this environment." She gestured, meaning the military. "Not sure what it's like for you guys, but it's kinda frowned on to flaunt your orientation. Particularly if it's not normal." She sounded a little bitter as she spoke.

"The closest thing we have is frametype preferences, and that doesn't even come close," he admitted. "I have to be careful of abuse of authority issues, but that's still not the same."

"Not quite." Amy agreed. "And are you seriously trying to set me up Jazz?" She grinned, patting the dashboard. "One would think you were trying to get rid of me."

"Just doing my job," he quipped back. "You'd be happier with a lover, and I can't even begin to describe how much _hotter_ it is to have lovers ... you and your lover, me with mine, a full four way feedback loop," his entire frame shuddered as his voice drifted into a dreamy kind of ecstasy of memories so intense they were nearly real.

"Jazz!" Amy slapped the dashboard, making him jump. "Focus on driving!" The thought however, did intrigue her. The memory of Prowl's pleasure across the link had aroused her more than once since the encounter. To feel that four-fold...

"Anyway, for today, I was thinking of not actually dragging him out of the office," he purred his mischievousness. "Some of our most intense encounters have been there, and I want to show you just what those sensor-panels of his are good for."

Relaxing back against the seat, Amy listened to Jazz.

"You've had him over the desk, haven't you?" She grinned. Despite herself, she was intrigued by the pair of them.

Jazz chuckled as they approached the command building where Prowl's office was. "Over it, on it, under it, against the wall, on his chair, on the floor ... and he's had me all those ways too. But my favorite is when he tries to ignore me, when he tries to keep working while I play with his sensor-wings, or kneel under his desk and lick at his legs and panel until he can't keep it closed anymore. As intense as it can be when he's in the mood first," another shuddered passed through his frame. "Coaxing him into it slowly is far more satisfying, and he knows it."

"I've said it before, and I'll no doubt say it again, but you are insatiable Jazz." She poked at his seat. "Nymphomaniac." However much she teased him, she had to agree that his methods were sound. Slow and teasing was much more fun than hard and fast, no matter how satisfying it could be at the time.

"I'm not that bad," he snickered, traversing the halls in his alt, passing other mechs who walked here and there. Even Prime as he came out of a lift they were headed into. "I'm only trying to maintain my overload an orn quota."

"Overload an orn." Amy scoffed. "You're a nympho, plain and simple. Not that there's much wrong with it. You find someone you want to be with then it can pretty much take over your mind. And your libido."

Jazz laughed, but there was a grim edge to it. "You have no idea," his tone turned dark. "You honestly have no friggin clue what it can do to you." Just as suddenly, his voice was normal again. "Since I know you enjoyed watching last time, don't bother denying it, anything you'd enjoy seeing me to do him this time?"

Amy caught the tone and stroked his seat soothingly. "Didn't mean ta upset you or anything." She murmured.

"It's okay," he assured her. "Random things play that memory log."

"Yeah, I know that one." She agreed. "What would I like to see? I'm intrigued by how sensitive you say his door wings are. I want to see you lick and kiss every inch of them." She squirmed a little, just imagining the scene. "And then I want to see you eat him out."

Jazz shuddered on his wheels as the lift went down three levels. "I think I'm _really_ goin to enjoy having you around," he purred deeply, vibrating her seat along with the rest of him. "You have such excellent ideas."

"How much further?" She'd never spent much time around the Autobots offices, at least not during work periods.

"Next level down and around the corner," he said easily, revving his engine in excitement. "I'll make sure I give you a good show."

"You'd better. If I'm going to be your energizer bunny, I want to have a bit of fun too!" She laughed, not mentioning how curious she was to know how they tasted.

"You always will," he promised with all the sultry certainty of his age and experience before coming to a stop outside a door. While it, like all the others, had the angular, almost cuneiform-like writing on it, there was little for her to go by to tell who or what it belonged to.

Jazz opened his door for her. "Now the fun begins."

Grabbing her cane, Amy heaved herself out of the car. "Won't take you long to hack the lock, will it?" She asked.

"Well, it wouldn't, even if I needed to," he snickered. "I _do_ outrank him after all, and it's hard to keep things like passcodes from your bonded unless you're _really_ paranoid and they're agreeable."

A flash of his palm and tapping of the code on an unremarkably blank looking black space next to the door and it swooshed open. Jazz swung down and picked her up without warning before striding in, causing her to squeak in surprise and cling to his fingers.

**"I have work to do, and so do you,"** Prowl said with that utter deadpan tone he was famous, or infamous, for.

"Never mind me," Jazz said chipperly as he deposited Amy on the desk, causing her to sigh in relief, and walked around behind his bonded.

**"Jazz,"** Prowl's optics never lifted from the datapad he was reading, though his sensor-wings twitched and flicked slightly as the smaller mech came to stand behind him.

"You work too hard." Amy stated, not knowing exactly what they were saying, but figuring it was something along the lines of Prowl telling Jazz that he was working.

"See, even the human can work out what's going on," Jazz teased him before ghosted a palm across the top of each small wing-like appendage.

Prowl froze instantly, his body tensing briefly before he resolutely focused on his work again, even ignoring the peppering of kisses the back of his neck, helm and shoulders received while knowing hands caressed the top, then bottom edges of his sensor-wings.

"The human has a name." She reminded Jazz pointedly. "But he's right." She fixed Prowl with a glare. "When was the last time you took a break?"

"Yes, her name is Amy," Jazz gave her a playful grin over Prowl's shoulder.

"Six point three two nine jour ago," Prowl responded blandly, his sensor-wings twitching almost violently now that Jazz's glossa started to work between the fine plates covering them.

"Seven point six hours," Jazz supplied.

"Which is not even half a regular shift of sixteen jour," Prowl added.

"Your terms mean nothing to me..." Amy waved a hand in the air. "Except that sounds far too long to be working without a break." She thought Prowl was close to giving in, judging by the way his wings were trembling.

"Before me, Mr. Married to His Job here was known to pull ten shifts running without a break," Jazz added conversationally.

"Duty ... ah!" His entire frame twitched sharply. "Prime needed me there."

"Yes, yes, I know," Jazz blew a wash of warm air across the sensor-dense mental he'd just licked and drew another shuddered from his bonded. "Yar not a pre-programmed anymore, lover."

Prowl hissed, a gargle of static and clicks all he could produce.

"Ya deserve a break as much as anyone," Jazz whispered softly, all the teasing and taunting gone from his voice, replaced by affectionate desire.

Prowl could only shudder in response.

"Sounds like you deserve a break more than some do." Amy agreed with Jazz, shuffling a little closer to Prowl. "Let him please you." She murmured. Already she could feel the first tendrils of desire curling through her body.

Prowl's vents hitched again with a shudder. His hands gripped the edge of his desk hard, using it as a lifeline to keep his fraying self-control intact.

"H-he _lik's_ the f-fight," he managed to make his uncooperative vocalizer spit out between less understandable sputters and static.

"I'z true," Jazz purred as he slid his glossa from joint to tip. The rich arousal in that simple statement spoke volumes of what it was doing to _him_ to put his bonded in such a state.

Amy groaned, eyes focused on Jazz's glossa as it moved across Prowl's door-wing. She spared a brief thought in wondering what that felt like and shimmied out of her trousers, tossing them to one side and not particularly caring where they landed.

She doubted Prowl cared either, and Jazz's grin was downright approving.

"Why did you bring a human here?" Prowl suddenly asked as he regained a momentary semblance of self-control and took anything to distract himself from the heat building in his systems. "They are not..." his vocalizer cut out and optics flared brightly, a shocked expression flashing across his features when Jazz got his glossa inside the wiring between wing and chassis.

"Mmm?" Jazz purred, the vibration making Prowl's vents hitch sharply as his still frame took on an entirely different quality of stiffness. "Ya know what I'm like when we've gotta regular socket."

Prowl could only tremble, his optics flickering and flaring randomly as memories assaulted him as strongly as touch did.

Disappointment flashed across Amy's face as Prowl spoke. She regretted having already taken her trousers off and moved to find them.

"I... I can leave if you want." She muttered.

Jazz chuckled as he paused in his assault. "He's just trying to hold his fraying processor together," he explained before slipping his fingers into the joints where sensor-wings met back armor.

Prowl let out an inarticulate cry and dug his claws into his desk.

"If he actually _cared_ he'd have said it first," Jazz continued smoothly.

"If you're sure..." Amy settled herself down again, trying to bury the feelings of discomfort. She almost flinched as Prowl's claws dug into the desk near her, reminded again of how much larger and powerful they were.

"Y-yyes. Sure," Prowl managed to get out between the whimpers and tremors of his increasingly aroused body.

"Let go, babe," Jazz whispered as he dug his fingers deep into the wing-joints.

"Let go..." She echoed Jazz unintentionally, watching Prowl come slowly undone.

It was all it took to drag a howl from the white mech as he threw his head back and surrendered to the overload, trusting his bonded to keep him balanced as he lost motor control to the crackle of energy charging through his systems.

Amy swore she could feel the energy release. Her socket tingled and she reached up to rub at it.

"He looks good overloading." She commented.

"Yes, he does," Jazz crooned, every ounce of his affection coming out in his words as he eased Prowl down, stroking the spasming sensor-wings gently. "Wait till you see him overload a second time," his optic band flashed eagerly. "In his chair, on the desk...?" he offered her the choice.

"In the chair, I want to be able to see." Amy crawled forward, closer to the two mechs.

Prowl made a somewhat confused sound as Jazz pulled him away from the desk a bit and came around to kneel between his legs.

"I'm not done with ya yet," Jazz grinned up unrepentantly as he guided Prowl's knees to rest on his shoulders before sliding his hands along the outside of his bonded's legs to gently grip his hips.

The first kiss to the inside of Prowl's leg drew a moan of anticipation from the white mech.

"Another nice slow tease?" Amy questioned Jazz, sitting on the edge of the desk as he shifted to give her a good view of what he was doing.

"Definitely," Jazz purred with another kiss to the inside of Prowl's leg, slowly working closer to his interface array panel. "Prowl is to be enjoyed, treasured," he smiled into another kiss as Prowl moaned and shivered, off-lining his optics in complete surrender.

Amy grinned at the sight.

"Any lover is to be enjoyed and treasured." She murmured, watching Jazz move ever closer to Prowl's interface panel. "Open up for him Prowl, there's a good mech," she purred when his panel retracted with a click and snick. From her angle she could see the solid circular ring with a slightly raised center and below it, a circular opening glistening with thick translucent lubricant.

"Yes, a very good mech," Jazz added with a purr before kissing the upper ring, swirling his glossa around the edge, only to move down to trail his glossa slowly around the edge of Prowl's valve.

Mouth dropping open, Amy angled herself to see exactly what Jazz was doing.

"Did either of you want to plug in?" She asked softly, not taking her eyes off Prowl's valve. The question caused both mechs to shudder.

"That can be round three," Jazz said lustfully, his intakes cycles a little faster as Prowl moaned and twitched. His glossa swirled around the valve's rim, giving her a good show of how the flexible metal quivered and twitched when stimulated.

"Round three?" Amy grinned. "You guys certainly don't mind indulging one another!" She licked her lips, eyes focused on Jazz's glossa rimming Prowl's valve.

Jazz chuckled, darting his glossa into the quivering opening. "He might not make a third overload, but he'll enjoy mine anyway."

Prowl reached down to caress Jazz's head-fins with one hand, causing the silver mech to shiver. "Always," he murmured.

"What does he taste like Jazz?" Amy's breath was coming more rapidly, getting off on watching them. As much as she didn't appreciate the thought of watching two 'males', this was somehow different.

He swirled his glossa just inside Prowl's valve, flicking it against an edge-node, before drawing it into his mouth for a long taste. He ran the tip of his glossa around the entire valve rim before answering. 'Strong, rich, savory," he rumbled with another explorative probe. "An addictive reminder that sometimes slowing down is worth it."

"Is it something I can taste?" She asked almost hesitantly.

Jazz paused and shot a look up at his bonded, differing to his judgment.

"A very small amount," Prowl nodded, then shuddered when Jazz slipped a finger inside him before offering it to her.

Grabbing hold of Jazz's finger, Amy licked the lubricant off it. It tasted... strange, at least to her, but it was thick and tangy and more than a little oily.

"Interesting flavor."

"About my reaction to tasting the human version," Jazz grinned cheekily at her before really focusing on his bonded, delving his glossa inside Prowl's valve repeatedly, licking all around the interior until the white mech was trembling and moaning uncontrollably.

"Ain't unpleasant, but I guess it takes some getting used to, least for us." Amy tilted her head, moaning along with Prowl as she eagerly watched Jazz tease him.

Jazz pressed his glossa even deeper, moaning as Prowl rubbed his head-fins. "Mind giving me ah charge?" he rumbled, trembling in pleasure that was echoed into Prowl's systems only to feed back to him. "You're so keyed up."

"Of course not." Amy shuffled as close as she could get, sweeping her hair to one side to reveal the socket for Jazz to plug into. He was right, she was keyed up and turned on, just from watching them. She tried not to think about how easy it was for them to read humans.

One of his thicker cables snaked out from his shoulder, caressing her arm and shoulder before hooking up with a jolt of pleasure. A moment later he opened the floodgates and showed her just how much he enjoyed pleasuring Prowl, _his_ bonded, _his_ mech. Let her feel how arousing it was to cause those moans and tremors above him.

Amy groaned as the connection was made, pleasure coming over the link thick and fast.

"Oh fuck." She swore, hugging herself against the tidalwave of emotions that went with the actions before her.

Prowl suddenly lifted one of his legs from Jazz's shoulder and planted the complex pede on the edge of his desk before gripping it very much like a hand would. His frame went tense, and Jazz fed her some of the sensations he was getting from the white mech as the pleasure grew unbearable.

She _felt_ what it meant to a mech when they said 'overload'. An orgasm, but so much more clear as they traced the build-up of energy across their systems until it could no longer be controlled. The cascading system failure that registered as intense pleasure but even in the depth of it they knew was what death felt like too.

The translation as 'little death' suddenly made even more sense to these beings than humans. This was how they could die, the line between bliss and irreparable damage razor thin as energy crashed through them uncontrolled.

Prowl's cries as he surrendered the very essence of his sense of self, his self-control, suddenly took on a whole different tone; fear and pain mixed with the pleasure as Jazz's glossa brought him to that point and beyond it.

Crying out as that pleasure rushed across the link, Amy orgasmed without even touching herself, reaching out and gripping part of Prowl's foot to stop herself falling off the desk. Jazz's hand caught her, providing a barricade from the edge just as fast, though his attention was still on his bonded and bringing him down gently from the overload and the energy rushing through his systems from her.

No one moved for a long moment, each trying to catch their breath in one way or another.

"You okay?" Jazz glanced up at her finally, even if the cable still connecting them told him she was physically well.

Caught between Jazz and Prowl, Amy felt her socket tingle again.

"M'good." She managed, leaning back on the desk, chest heaving. "That was another new one." She pointed out.

"Ah aim to please," Jazz smiled charmingly at her as Prowl gently lowered his pedes to the floor.

"Yes, and I think you mentioned wanting a little spike action," Prowl said languidly, his fingers playing along Jazz's head fins, smiling faintly when his bonded pressed into the contact with a happy churring sound. He gave a calculating look at Amy and the rest of his desk.

With little other warning, Prowl pulled Jazz to his feet, then lifted him and almost threw him down on the desk, shaking the sturdy piece slightly. He leaned over the silver mech, catching both his hands and pinning them as he claimed a fiery kiss that Jazz all but melted into.

Amy shrieked as Prowl slammed Jazz onto the desk, close enough for her to touch. Somehow, the cable didn't snag or pull, and she could feel Jazz's pleasure over the link, the way he melted into the kiss and she would swear her knees went weak too.

The next thing that hit her was the _heat_ they were both putting off. Prowl was almost unpleasantly hot, the air from his vents was like standing in front of an industrial heater, and Jazz was getting there fast.

Jazz whimpered low in his throat, a desperately wanton sound as he spread his legs, capturing Prowl's thighs under his calves and rocking his hips against the set above his. He cried out openly when Prowl's mouth left his to kiss and nip down his jaw, then his throat.

"Please, babe..." Jazz gasped, rocking his hips, rubbing their open interface arrays together.

Amy shivered at the sounds Jazz was making, and the way Prowl was teasing him. She hadn't been quiet this close before, and the feelings across the link were quickly arousing her again.

Prowl went back to Jazz's mouth, silencing him for the most part, and they both shifting, giving Prowl room to extend his pristine white spike and sink it fully into his bonded with a single smooth thrust. Jazz stiffened, whimpering into Prowl's mouth as the bolt of pleasure shot up his spinal strut and cascaded through his systems.

Though the general sense of pleasure, desire and _yes_, she felt the shadowed presence of Prowl's spike settling inside Jazz's valve and how intensely _perfect_ it felt to them both.

She groaned at the feeling of a spike in her, not an unusual sensation, well used to vibrators. But she could feel the heat, or she thought she could.

"Shit." She shifted, sinking two fingers into her wetness, muscles clamping down against the familiar intrusion.

Both mechs groaned and began the familiar thrusting dance. The physical pleasure dominated the sensations she received as Jazz's charge built up quickly from already being near his limit from teasing his bonded. She felt, distantly, an apology passed from Prowl for scaring her, and one from Jazz that he wouldn't last long. He didn't _want_ to last long, not with how good this felt.

Amy smiled at the apology from Prowl, wishing she could tell him that it was all right.

Another wave of pleasure crested in Jazz and he mewed between frantic kisses as the tempo built.

This was the other half, when the teasing had gone too far and they both wanted with that feverish intensity where thinking wasn't involved anymore.

Amy didn't think, just reacted to what she could feel, fingers curling inside herself, thumb rubbing against her clit. She let out a moan, shuddering as she came.

The rush of energy was more than enough to set Jazz off, his valve clenching tightly around Prowl's spike, his pleasure rushing across the hardline connection to Amy and his bond to Prowl, setting up a cascading echo that was more than the white mech could stand. With a static-filled roar Prowl overloaded, filling his bonded's valve with transfluid.

Gasping as the connection seemed to flare to life with their pleasure, Amy swore she came again.

Prowl pressed his mouth against Jazz's before either of them had the chance to calm down, demanding entrance he was given willingly.

They were still roiling in the intensity when a soft click came from Prowl's chest plates and they separated, revealing a brilliant white glow inside his chest.

It took her by surprise, and she felt, briefly, Jazz's as well. So did the white glow she could see. Sparks? She'd heard about them, but never seen one.

In the next half heartbeat, the connection to Jazz went dead, her body froze of it's own accord, and the silver mech began to talk in Cybertronian as he slid his hands free of Prowl's grip to gently close the parting chest plates.

As Prowl's chest plates closed, Amy thought she might be able to move again.

"What? Why?" She whispered, voice hoarse as she tried to take in the complex expressions on the two mechs. Jazz seemed ... somehow frightened. Prowl ... she'd classify it as a mixture of hurt, shock and shame.

Jazz gently stroked Prowl's red and white chest plates, kissing him just as tenderly as they worked out in silence whatever had happened from their perspective.

Eventually Prowl turned to look at her. "My apologies, Amy," it wasn't quite the normal smooth vocals she was used to from him. He pulled out of Jazz's body, his spike disappearing into it's housing almost immediately as he stood and both their panels closed with a quiet click. "I should not have put you in that danger. It is an inexcusable lapse of judgment on my part."

"Danger? I don't get what you mean." She sat up straighter, looking between the both of them and pulled her pants back on. "What just happened and why the fuck did you stop?"

Jazz shifted, sitting up and looked at her steadily. "Sparks are very vulnerable when unshielded for a merge. It's an intense intimacy, one we share often. Since you are not _our_ socket, my protection protocols activated, registering you as a potential threat to him. I'm experienced enough to react without violence, but that isn't always the case. It's one of the very few protocols that has precedence over the socket protection ones."

"Oh..." Amy couldn't think of anything else to say. She'd guessed it was something special, but to know that Jazz could have actually killed her... well, that was a bit of a shock. "Maybe I just oughta let the two of you carry on." She murmured, reaching back to unhook Jazz's cable from her socket.

"Yeah," Jazz murmured. "I'm sorry too. I should have recognized where it was going before it got that far." He slid off the desk and offered his hands to her. "The mood's pretty well broken anyway. Can ... may I take you somewhere?"

Amy shifted uncomfortably before climbing into Jazz's hands.

"Just drop me off outside the door, I can make my own way back." She murmured softly, not wanting to impose any further.

"Okay," he nodded, moving with his natural grace and a bit more care than usual. "We are very sorry, Amy," he told her as he set her down outside the office.

"S'okay." Amy shrugged. "Guess you two really need to find a socket instead of relying on stopgaps like me."

Jazz nodded, remaining kneeling to be close to her eye level. "We should, yes. As the two top ranking officers, we try to make sure everyone else is taken care of first. He must really be relaxed around you to not think I'd react ... it takes a special person to handle us both. I'm sorry you had such a scare. We were both more out of control than we should have permitted."

Tilting her head, Amy stared up at him. "I wish you luck." She murmured. "I'd say yes, but I ain't ready for that sort of commitment, and ... I don't think ya'd want someone like me."

Jazz reached out to stroke her back lightly. "I understand, but don't be so sure of the second," he said softly, still hesitant to stand. "Are you sure you won't let me take you somewhere? It's a very long walk for a human."

"I'll be fine. The walk will probably do me good." She paused. "Just don't tell the doc, okay?"

Jazz cracked a devilish grin. "If you don't tell anybody what happened in there, deal?"

"I won't tell anyone." Amy promised, lifting a hand and placing it over her chest. "Hand on heart." She grinned up at Jazz.

He grinned back and mimicked her action, though he centered his hand. "Hand on spark, Ol' Hatch won't heard about it from us."

"Good." She waved goodbye to Jazz, turning and walking a few steps before her ankle gave out on her, sending her to the ground. "Ow."

"Damnit," Jazz growled and all but dived to try and catch her before she hit. "Okay, executive decision override. You aren't walking. Me, Prowl or Fireflight. Who's talking you home?"

Amy sighed, massaging her ankle as she thought. She didn't really want to inconvenience Prowl and Jazz any more than she already had. "Fireflight." She answered almost reluctantly, knowing that Jazz was right. She wouldn't be able to walk any distance, not after everything she'd gone through that evening.

The silver mech paused briefly, then nodded. "He's on his way. I'm not sure how well he believed me when I said you weren't injured."


	5. The Naturalists 1: Wilderness Finds

**Fandom**: Transformers Bayverse (Points of View'verse)  
**Author**: gatekat and femme4jack on Live Journal  
**Pairing**: Mirage/Hound/Alicia Rodriguez  
**Rating**: NC-17 for mech/mech/female  
**Codes**: Slash, Het, Sticky, Xeno (mech/human)  
**Summary**: Hound and Mirage are a fine example of opposites attracting, but what will that mean when it comes to finding a socket? Will they manage to share one, or end up with separate ones?  
**Disclaimer**: Do I really have to keep repeating that I don't own the boys? Femme4jack owns Alicia.  
**Notes**: RP written in the Point of View fanverse (community .livejournal .com/tf_matrix)  
In this POV AU: Jazz is alive (you should be used to this by now) and bonded to Prowl.  
What I see what I think of Mirage and Hound in Bayverse.  
deviantart .com/deviation/163422112 Mirage Design V 2.0 by GreenAppleFreak on DA  
deviantart .com/deviation/97368900 Hound by stripedwine on DA  
"text" - English  
_"Spanish"_ translated to English  
**"Cybertronian"** translated to English  
~Bond speak~ translated to English

* * *

**Shades of Grey 5:  
The Naturalists 01: Wilderness Finds**

* * *

Alicia slapped another mosquito, the netting obviously not doing the job it was supposed to do. _Must have a hole in it_, she muttered to herself. The sheer quantity of bites she had received from the island's oversized mosquitoes made her rethink the offer the alien CMO had made to her when she arrived for a strange port in her neck that most of the human members of the allied team now sported. He had told her that through it he could make the slightest chemical alteration to make her completely unattractive to the island's insect population, a highly appealing offer for the field work she did. However, since the main reason to have such a port was to interface with their technology, she had declined. She was first and foremost a field researcher, and did that her own way, the old fashioned way with pen and sketchbook as well as pages and pages of hand-written notes which were sealed in plastic bags in her backpack.

This was Alicia's third night on the far side of Diego Garcia, well away from the base and all of its top-secret activities. She was part of a team that had been gathered at the request of Optimus Prime to do an environmental impact study on the past and present activities of the base and to make recommendations for mitigation and restoration. It was one of several teams pulled in since the latest round of negotiations with the allied governments who supported the base. A second team was working on restoring the archeological sites of the peoples who had once inhabited the island and had been forcefully relocated when the British claimed the atoll as a naval base. And yet another diplomatic team was working with the island's former inhabitants and their descendants to create a reparations agreement. Apparently all of these developments were the result of the unbending will of the alien leader. These things alone prepared Alicia to have a positive impression of the mechanoid aliens she had only recently learned were sharing their planet, though she was still nervous and concerned about their connection with several of the world's military powers. But...she was not there to get involved in politics. She was there to take water samples and do a field survey of the state of the native plant and animal species on the island's compromised wetlands.

As the sun rose on another steamy, humid day on the Indian Ocean, she got out of her tent, put her dark hair into a bun, ate half a ration and pulled up her waders, ready for another day of mucking around in the marsh. She had her equipment floated on a small raft she had built out of marsh reeds, and was busy today taking water samples from various sites around the wetlands. Other team members were scattered about surveying the plant and animal life. She was alone, enjoying the noises of the marshlands even as the day heated up. She could handle the heat, and would take a humid mucky day in the field over a day transcribing notes into her computer any time.

A great splash, the impact of metal on metal and loud clicking and whirling along with a booming laughter drew her attention away from her samples before the water rippled around her. Even sure it must be an alien, she couldn't help her curiosity. They didn't seem to venture out of the base often, but what else could make that kind of racket? As she waded towards the continuing commotion another small wave of water crested over her thighs her hearing picked up that it was most likely two aliens. Even with no real experience telling them apart, the very noticeable difference in pitch of the clicks and mechanical sounds seemed unlikely to come from one individual.

Then a large army green one stood up and reached down, apparently offering a hand to his companion.

A slender, finely constructed light blue hand reached out and grasped the large green one before an equally elegant blue and white mech with gold filigree was pulled into a standing position. They continued to click at each other, the green one looking, for lack of a better description, amused. His smaller companion was anything but. The elegant one seemed furious.

Alicia was not sure whether to amused or annoyed at the disturbance. While she would be the first to admit that the prospect of actually meeting more of the gigantic beings - she had only thus far met the CMO to get base approval for heading to the field - she was also doing sensitive research and was not certain how the presence of the two of them would affect the samples she was taking. However, she let those concerns go quickly. They were here, there was nothing that said they couldn't be, and she was present at their leader's request.

She alerted them to her presence with a cheeky, "Lovely morning for a swim, don't you think?"

The elegant one turned to glare at her, and she couldn't help the feeling it was more that someone else had seen his wounded pride than _her_. His companion though, seemed delighted to see her and took a step forward, his face bearing an easy grin.

"Definitely. I'm Hound. Mister Grumpy there is Mirage," he teased his companion and ended up on the receiving end of that death-glare and several clicks. It didn't seem to phase Hound in the least. "He never seems to remember that getting dirty means a long, hot shower when we get back to base."

It wasn't lost on Alicia that the irate stance and expression seemed to soften a bit at that, but Mirage still clicked at Hound several times. This time Hound replied in the same way and it seemed to mollify Mirage further as the exchange continued a few more rounds. It was probably their native language she belatedly realized.

"Alicia Rodriguez, Environmental Restoration Team Three?" Hound turned back to her with a smile.

Mirage seemed ready to turn around and leave, but Hound caught him by the arm and didn't let go when he was glared at. A few chirping exchanges and a resigned look spread across the elegant blue and white frame and he remained where he was when he was released.

Alicia watched the interaction with amusement. That there was some sort of very friendly relationship between these two very different Autobots was obvious, and that put all sorts of possibilities in her head that she had not even considered.

"That's me," she replied with a grin, deciding not to be annoyed about the possibility she would need to redo all of her samples the following day.

Alicia continued to slosh through the soupy water to get closer to the two, the water now coming up to her chest.

"What brings you two to the far side of the island so early on a Wednesday morning?" she asked with a smile.

"Mostly I like dragging him out to the wilderness. Some time alone and the joys of nature." He shot an amused look at his still-sulking companion. "He usually enjoys it much more."

Mirage clicked something at him with a glare that could freeze hell, but Hound seemed perfectly willing and able to let it roll off him like water from a duck's back.

Alicia wiped her hand off on the exposed part of her shirt, and held it out vaguely toward the two of them, pretty sure that Mirage would not "shake" her hand. Hound was perfectly happy to however, and extended one large finger to her for the shake.

"Well, nice to meet you, Mirage and Hound. You have picked the right part of the island for wilderness, though it isn't nearly the wilderness it was a hundred years ago, but it is still very nice, heavenly actually if you like to be alone. Nothing but wetlands, beaches, and critters for miles around...that is if you include a few scientists like myself in the critter category. You are the first Autobots I've seen on this side since I started my survey."

Alicia was not at all put off by the seeming sulkiness of the smaller mech. Having grown up in as culturally rich a state as New Mexico, she had learned early on to leave her preconceptions about appropriate behavior at the cultural door where they belonged. She tried to take people as they were, without prejudgment, because she liked to be taken that way as well. American culture had so many ingrained attitudes toward Latinas that did not at all match the culture she had grown up in, in a small mostly Spanish-speaking town in the New Mexico mountains that had been around since before the Plymouth Rock plantation.

"There aren't many who appreciate a marsh the way I do," Hound chuckled deeply. "We only arrived two nights ago, but perhaps I can assist in your survey? It is what I did before the war."

Mirage whirred and clicked at him, something that might actually pass for a smile crossing his features briefly when Hound laughed.

"It's what I did _during_ the war for the most part too," Hound continued to chuckle, his mirth having a soothing affect on his companion that even Alicia could see. "I love organic worlds and the life they support."

"That is an intriguing prospect," Alicia replied, chuckling at the interaction between the two whose language was beyond her, but whose body language was surprisingly easy to read. "I'd enjoy some help, and some company. The rest of the team goes back to base at night, but I prefer to stay in the field. I'm a bit old fashioned about my research methods. I hope it won't frustrate you. I'm not a technophile," she smiled, adding "no offense."

"None taken," Hound assured her. "Even though we're technological beings, you'll find the same spread among us. There are those who exist for technology, and those who only use it as needed. I fall under the later heading. It's useful, but it's not my focus."

Mirage whirred at him, the glare back in place. He settled quickly when Hound responded with a few clicks and reached out to brush the back of his fingers soundlessly against the finely crafted white cheek plates. For a very brief moment, Mirage leaned into the light contact, his golden-white optics shuttered, before they parted and Hound looked at Alicia again.

"I probably can't stay out most nights," he told her. "I love to, but..." he made a bit of a shrug towards Mirage. "It's far too wet."

Alicia made sure to include Mirage in her smile when she said, "Oh, I wasn't trying to imply that you would. I was just letting you know that I don't go back in the evening unless I need to. I am always happy for company and help, but only as much as is convenient for both of you. The mosquitoes and I have bonded quite well out here at night...it almost made me rethink that neck thing that your CMO offered. But I just couldn't see it being worth the money it would cost the base, since I use so little technology in the field."

Alicia found that she had a soft place in her heart for the sullen Mirage. He reminded her of the old abuelitas back home...the ones who were so very proud of their heritage and would not stoop to speaking English even if they perfectly well understood the language. She understood their pride, coming from such a long heritage around gringos who assumed they had walked across the border just days before and couldn't understand why they refused to speak English.

"You might be surprised how many uses they have," Hound grinned at her and knelt, offering her a hand if she wished to stop craning her neck to speak to them. "Besides, now that you've been cleared to know about us, you'll probably be seeing a lot more of us no matter where you work. Most of us _like_ humans."

Over his shoulder she saw Mirage's manner shift a bit. Not exactly friendly, but less standoffish and now at least a little interested instead of completely humoring his companion.

Alicia laughed at the state of her waders and climbed up on the offered hand. "You are going to get muddy if you pick me up, but I get the sense that is not really an issue for you, Hound." A moment of vertigo, and suddenly she was far higher than she had been moments before.

"I happen to like the mud," he grinned back.

"Suddenly, I have some sympathy for my cat," she commented as she attempted to get over her vertigo by putting her head in her hands. She took a couple of breaths and then said, "alright then. This is quite high." Somehow the experience was very different from standing at the edge of a cliff ... because cliffs didn't move.

Cliffs weren't _warm metal_ either.

"So, what kind of uses would a port in the neck have to an old fashioned field-researcher who has no cell phone, no laptop, and still takes her notes by hand and puts them in plastic bags?" she asked pointing over to where her back pack was still floating on the reed raft she had constructed when she arrived.

"It's best use is probably for when you get out of the field and have to translate those notes for the technological world," Hound teased her. "It would be much faster to simply skim-read your notes to refresh your memory and have them download directly into the computer." He shifted very slowly, turning so she was between him and Mirage, including him in the conversation. "Days, weeks, saved? Time you could spend in the field again. Ratchet can tweak your biochemistry so you do not appeal to predators, big or small. Allow you to function on low rations and impure water for many months without ill effect. Disease resistance. You could call for help if you needed it. It would even allow you to learn our language to an extent."

Alicia turned toward Mirage. "Is he always this convincing?" she asked, shaking her head. More than a bit to her surprise, he answered in _English_.

"Yes," Mirage's 'human' voice brought flashes of memory of TV and travel when she'd heard British nobility speaking, and held, to her ear at least, an incredible amount of fondness for his companion.

Alicia tried not to act _too_ delighted that Mirage had responded to her, remembering once again the abuelitas from home, and how much they had to swallow their pride to speak in English when they did so. She didn't want to call too much attention to his response, though she did smile softly at the obvious affection in his voice. She really wanted know more about how these two were connected.

"Okay, I'll think about it. Those are actually pretty compelling reasons, even for a technophobe like me, especially that low rations and impure water bit, and it would be wonderful not to come down with malaria again. Oh, and that direct download of my notes would certainly keep my research assistants happy. I think that Ratchet was in quite a hurry, and I'm not someone who can make a decision like that without a lot of thought."

She was thoughtful for a moment. "I honestly think the most interesting thing you bring up is your language, though from the little I've heard from the two of you, I can't imagine my tongue being designed to make those kind of sounds. It would be a like someone trying to speak Spanish who couldn't roll her 'r's, only about a million times worse. But to be able to understand? That would be amazing. I've always felt that you never really can know how people think without knowing their native language."

Alicia realized that she was babbling, which was not normal for her. However, the inner scientist was fascinated by this new 'field research' she had fallen into with these two unique individuals.

"The soldiers who fought alongside Prime since his arrival can speak a few simple things and most of the designations of those they know well, though the accent is heavier than even Jazz's," Hound told her, delighted with her responses. "You are right about your vocal system being ill-suited to speak any Cybertronian dialect. Understanding it is a much easier thing, though from what I have gathered it will still be difficult when we are speaking to each other at our normal speed. Your neural network is not designed to process information quite so quickly. Even so, you should be able to get the gist of a conversation. You would be able to read our language as well."

She smiled. "So, let me hear an example, if you don't mind. Could you tell me your designations? I've assumed that the English names I've heard are not direct translations."

"No, not direct, but they are close in many ways," Hound smiled and said his full, formal designation as it was intended, the whirrs and clicks blending together smoothly. "Our designations are many-layered in Cybertronian. It does mean 'hound' on a real level, but also denotes that I am a wilderness tracker and scout, my working-class origins and my holographic generator."

Mirage said his, the sounds nearly musical the way he made them.

"While the obvious thing it says is that he can turn invisible, to us his noble heritage, that he belongs to the House of..." Hound suddenly looked at Mirage, silently asking for the best translation for it.

There was a pause before Mirage spoke. "Swift Sky."

"That he is a second creation of a mid-ranked bonded pair are all included in it." Hound picked up again. "If you hear the full, formal name of a Cybertronian, you will know their origin, purpose, rank and something about their personality as well."

Alicia hesitantly tried to repeat what she had heard, failing miserably and laughing at herself. She watched Mirage carefully, noting that he did not seem irritated by her attempt. If anything, he seemed pleased at her effort, no matter how mangled the results.

"Amazing," Alicia said, truly in research mode now. "So much said with a name. Ours are rather arbitrary, though in my cultural background, our full name always includes the family names for both parents and maternal and paternal grandparents. Some of the native cultures in my home state do not receive their final name until they have gone through a rite of passage into adulthood. Do you keep the same designation throughout your life, or does it ever change?"

Hound smiled, both at her and Mirage. "Most will maintain the same designation throughout their lifetime with only minor alterations for changes in rank or status, such as bonding or a major promotion. Jazz's full designation, not his everyday one, but the full thing, has changed quite a bit since Prime first met him, but the foundation is the same. Someone who knew him before he was an Autobot would still recognize it as belonging to the same individual, and his daily designation hasn't changed at all.

"Some will change their designation completely if a dramatic enough event happens; a complete rebuild, a major processor change, changing factions, renouncing their origin. Ultra Magnus," he repeated the full designation in Cybertronian, "is an example. He was," he said the designation in Cybertronian, "before he nearly died and was rebuilt as a military mech. It is a significant choice, a rare one, but not unknown."

Mirage made a quiet clicking sequence, and Hound chuckled.

"Do you mind if we move to solid ground?" Hound looked at her.

"Oh, please, let's do. I need to gather my things," indicating her equipment on the raft. "My base camp is over that way, and is on solid ground. There's some fresh, non-silty water there if you need to clean up." She pointed toward the far side of the wetlands area. Her stomach was rumbling for some lunch.

Mirage made some comment that got a solid laugh out of Hound.

Hound nodded and stooped to pick up her raft of equipment, then lead the way, still carefully carrying her in one hand. "You are skilled at making a camp blend into the environment," he commented as they came closer. He set her down next to her tent, lingering a bit as Mirage made short work of the distance to the wide fresh water stream.

"Thanks," she replied. "It has always been important to me to blend in when I'm doing one of these surveys. When I don't stay on site, I always miss something important.

She pulled off her waders, revealing her tanned olive skin and some cut off shorts. Making her way over to the water, she rinsed them off, and then began rinsing her hands and arms. She gave Mirage a smile, and commented. "I don't ever really feel clean when I'm out here. But it is worth it to get away from the insanity."

"You sound like Hound," he told her, his tone a conflicting mix of approval and annoyance as he knelt in the water and began to work the marsh off and out of his upper frame.

Hound smiled at his slender companion and stepped into the water to kneel beside him. Without any apparent signal between them, Mirage shifted, allowing Hound to work the back of his legs clean with his hands.

Then a cloth came out of nowhere to be dipped in the relatively clean water to wipe Mirage's back of muck. Only a few strokes in and the noble closed his optics with a faint shiver. His entire frame relaxed, willingly compliant with anything Hound did.

Alicia paused in her own washing to simply appreciate what she was seeing. She hoped she was not being intrusive, but it was so obvious these two vastly different beings cared deeply for each other. She realized at that moment how difficult it was to be rid of preconceived notions. Humans would never assume that mechanoid life forms (and she had never even considered the possibility of such life before meeting Ratchet) would be intimate with another, but these two obviously shared some form of emotional and physical intimacy. She was not going to pry, but watching them was beautiful.

So she watched, wide-eyed and frozen so not to disrupt the moment and lose an opportunity to witness whatever was happening. Pointedly ignoring her presence Hound continued to clean Mirage's frame with sure, steady strokes. Minutes passed as every inch of that finely crafted frame was cleaned with methodical care until a low sound, nearly a whimper, escaped Mirage's vocalizer.

A few strokes later and he trembled faintly.

The cloth vanished and Hound slid his hands reverently down Mirage's front, from shoulder struts to hip joints, gently pulling Mirage's back against his broad chest. Thick clawed fingers slipped into seams and caressed the edges of armor plates until Mirage shuddered and spread his knees. With his face pressed against Mirage's neck, Hound slid a hand between slender legs and rubbed lightly, his claw tips playing along the smooth metal.

A free arm wrapped around Mirage's chest, holding him against Hound's chest when the noble lost his battle to remain silent. Chirps, whirrs and clicks filled the air as Mirage trembled.

More than once Alicia was sure she heard Hound's name among the mechanical sounds. Despite being mechanical, the acts, the touch, was so intimately familiar. It became even more familiar when Mirage's hands clutched at the arm holding him and arched his back strut as his frame danced with wisps of electricity. A sharp sound escaped him before he froze, his back arched, hands grasping Hound's arm, hips pressed hard into the fingers cupped there and face locked in wide-opticed surprise as his optics flared brightly.

A moment later he slumped forward, burningly hot air pumping from his vents in waves and nearly strutless as Hound held him close and murmured to him softly.

Alicia's eyes went even wider. She couldn't not move if she wanted to. She knew they were completely aware that she was there. Did they want her to move? Should she go to her tent and give them privacy? She didn't think she could do that without attracting even more attention to herself, and she didn't want to move. Watching the intimacy, the familiar alienness of it all was far too beautiful and erotic.

Why, she wondered, would they allow her to see this? Was it simply another cultural difference? Perhaps they did not have the same boundaries around privacy and intimacy. Even where she was at, she could physically feel the heat coming off of Mirage after he climaxed.

She realized at that moment that she was extremely aroused, and wondered if there was any hiding that from their sensors, or if they would care?

Mirage leaned his head back against his lover's shoulder, seemingly content to remain right where he was.

Hound, however, smiled at her. "Would you like help with your release?"

Alicia laughed. She didn't know what else to do. No hiding it, no hiding it at all. Her face was as red as mama's chile peppers, and she felt as hot. And ... yes ... yes she really did want to say yes.

"Ummm ... I'm not sure what to say. Is this a normal part of your field work?"

Hound chuckled softly. "Only when there is an attractive, intelligent, vividly alive organic we want to know better. Even Mirage finds you interesting. It's been a very long time since we agreed on someone."

Alicia laughed again. She never could have predicted this one. "I think that may just be the most flattering thing anyone has ever said to me."

Feeling hesitant, and a bit shy, she walked closer to where Hound was holding the very content Mirage.

The water of the wide, shallow creek was cool on her calves. Hound extended a hand to her, offering to lift her up in the same way as in the marsh. Even Mirage had shifted to support himself and turned around to face his lover.

"I promise, you will not fall. We will not allow anything bad to happen," Hound told her, trying to be reassuring.

Alicia climbed up onto Hounds hand, trembling with excitement, looking into the bright optics of both Hound and Mirage, one set sky blue and one set golden-white, optics that seemed to be staring into her, almost longingly.

"I'm...I'm not afraid of falling."

She shivered again, not certain what to expect, just knowing that her research had become a lot more personal.

"Tell me to stop, I will," Hound promised her with absolute sincerity as slender cables extended from both his wrists. "This is for pleasure."

As he spoke, the cables slid along her body, caressing her legs, her abdomen, her breasts, her throat. They were warm, soft, almost tingling every place they touched skin. Nothing like what she'd expect from a machine, even a super-advanced alien one.

Alicia shivered, leaning into the caressing touches, and these touches were like none she had ever felt. Alien, erotic, yet so very sensuous. She felt herself becoming wet and she groaned and closed her eyes, leaning fully back into Hound's hand.

"Don't stop. I trust you," she whispered.

Feeling a cable move under her tank top, she pulled it off, revealing her full breasts and dark nipples. Two cables slid up, rubbing her belly while the ends curled around her breasts to tease those nipples.

"Lovely," Mirage murmured, his golden-white optics locked on her with nothing short of desire.

"Yes, she is. So full of life," Hound added, his voice husky between pleasuring his lover and now pleasuring Alicia with no attention to himself yet.

Alicia gasped as the cables teased her nipples. It had been long ... far too long since she had been touched this way, by someone who seemed only concerned with her own pleasure. Mirage's voice was like music to her ears, as caressing as the cables. She looked into his optics and shuddered, wondering what his touch would feel like, wondering what it would be like to see him elegantly pleasuring Hound the way Hound had done to him.

As the cables continued their exploration of her body, she closed her eyes again and moaned.

"You are amazing at this," she said in a low voice, gasping again as another tingle went across her nipple. One slipped into her shorts and under her underwear, teasing her pubic hair as the rest of her clothing was gently removed.

All the while cables continued to caress her breasts, her throat ... the one slid further between her legs to every so lightly caress the sensitive, swollen flesh there.

"Thank you," Hound rumbled, his bright optics locked on her, exploring her as much as his cables did. "I would like to do this often, pleasuring you."

Alicia had to bite back a scream as the cable began to touch her most intimate places. She bucked her hips into the touch, her body starting to writhe.

"I couldn't say no to that offer, but do I get to return the favor? " the image of the electric charge racing over Mirage's form as he climaxed was vivid in her mind.

"Yes," he shuddered, though he managed to hold his hand still. Behind her, Mirage made a sound that she knew from when his lover had touched him. "With the socket implant, you could feel that, share pleasure the way we can when we plug into each other. Share that beautiful strength of your pleasure with us."

Mirage nearly whined at the description.

Alicia cried out again as the cable brushed her clit and then began to move inside of her. She could hear the desire in both of their voices, see it in their optics. To be looked at that way was almost enough to put her over the edge.

The cable pushed deeper into her, "Dios mio," she cried out, reverted to her native language. When she could find a coherent thought, she said, "I'm going back to base to sign that paperwork tonight. Just don't stop!"

"Si," Mirage's cultured voice took on a desperately hungry tone even as he dropped into Spanish.

"It's been too long," Hound agreed, his full effort now focused on making every fiber of her being sing with the ecstasy he knew he could bring, even without the socket. "So lovely," he murmured as her eyes closed and her body arched, pressing into his touch as much as she could. "So alive."

Alicia was beyond words now as her cunt was invaded relentlessly by the thick cable that seemed to tingle every nerve as it moved in and out of her. Another began to move down her back toward her ass. She writhed and moaned, calling out "se siente tan rico!"

"Good," Hound all but crooned, working her body inside and out. He pressed a second cable into her cunt, a smaller one into her ass while the two on her breasts continued to wiggle and teased. The lightest current he could manage tickled her nerves, every line of code in his processor demanding he give her an orgasm even if he couldn't feed from it yet.

_Do well and she'll agree._

Alicia was so close. Her entire body was shuddering and she was breathing in gasps as a current of pleasure raced through her. She had lost all conscious thought other than the sensations of her body, sensations beyond anything she had ever experienced. As a cable began to invade her ass, she screamed and pushed herself hard on the one that was somehow managing to thrust and fill her while also tingling her clit. Her orgasm swept her away and her cunt repeatedly throbbed on the cable.

"Dios mio, Maria madre de dios." she whispered, not even aware she had switched languages as she slowly came back to her senses and opened her eyes.

Bright sky blue and white-golden optics looked down at her, the heat coming off both mechs was just shy of too much at such close proximity. "Do ... do you still want to explore me?" Hound switched to Spanish as well, his voice shaky.

"Or watch me?" Mirage sounded just as needy as his lover. His cultured voice was in place, but gone was any pretence of being anything other than someone who wanted to jump his lover desperately.

She took a deep breath, noticing that they had switched to Spanish and laughing inwardly at herself. She felt that she could simply lay in the almost too hot hand all day, but the prospect of touching Hound, or watching Mirage do the same was far too compelling to pass up, not to mention unfair considering how much Hound has just given her.

"Is it possible to do both?" she asked, "To touch you while Mirage is?" She looked at Mirage, "if that is alright with you? Otherwise, I will watch."

The pair exchanged a look, having a silent debate as only very long-term couples could, and Hound nodded.

"If one of us tells you to leave, get to the shore, okay?" his look was serious. "It's been a very long time since we shared with someone squishable."

Alicia's eyes became wide, realizing the precariousness of her situation. She felt very safe with the two gigantic mechanoids, safe enough to have allowed Hound to touch her in a way that she had allowed very few others.

"I hadn't considered the squishability factor," she said with a nervous laugh. "I trust you both. I'll get out of the way as soon as you tell me to."

Hound nodded and set her on his chest as he lay down in the wide creek. "We have tactile sensors all over, but the less something is touched, the more sensitive it will be."

Alicia, not certain what to do, simply began to explore with her tongue, her lips and fingers. She remembering how Hound had touched Mirage, she traced armor seems, her fingers easily fitting in. She watched carefully for Hound's reactions and she slid her finger inside a seam and delicately traced cables she found underneath, all the while placing wet kissed on another.

His heat went completely through her. His moans reverberated. Unlike his elegant lover, Hound had no trouble vocalizing his pleasure. She could hear Mirage behind her, touching Hound, murmuring to him in their language.

Encouraged by the reaction, Alicia continued her caresses of Hound's cables and wiring, noting that the metal underneath his armor had a soft, living feel to it.

She turned herself around so that she could continue her exploration while watching what Mirage did. The beauty of the elegant smaller Mirage, caressing his lover was breathtaking.

"You are both amazing," she murmured as her fingers slid easily into another seam and enticed a deep moan from Hound.

It was patently obvious to her that Mirage wasn't paying any attention to her as he ran his fingers along the inside of Hound's upper legs. Then he bent down to kiss, then run his tongue along the smooth paneling between the larger mech's legs.

Hound bucked his hips up, seeking more of that contact, and was rewarded with a metal tongue slipping between the plates where leg met hip.

Alicia found the site of the elegant Mirage slipping his silver tongue into what clearly was an intimate place on both mechanoids and humans utterly erotic, and she was quickly becoming aroused again. Watching and learning, she slipped her hands deeper into the seems, caressing everything she could find, her own tongue tracing patterns on the hot smooth armor.

Moving yet again, she sensuously crawled up towards Hound's face, and began to trace his lips with her tongue while her hands worked the seems between his neck and shoulders. She found herself grinding her hips into him, the heat fully arousing her again.

"Turn around, lick you," Hound's voice was rough as he shuddered in the joint assault. "Watch him. You smell so good."

Alicia didn't need to be told twice, Hound's rough voice giving her all the encouragement she needed. She turned around to continue her own loving assault on his seams, cables and soft protoform, wiggling in her fingers. She moaned and shuddered as Hound's glossa first touched her. It was silky smooth and cool.

Now in front of her, Mirage was still kneeling between Hound's raised knees, lavishing attention on the smooth metal there. A low click and swish caught her attention and suddenly she found herself looking at Mirage licking his way up a thick cable of green metal that hadn't been there before. Whatever part this was, every little movement Mirage made to touch it caused a tremor and moan to hit Hound.

She was still working on classifying the new part when Mirage took the tip between his silver lips and quickly lowered his head to take the entire length in.

Behind her, Hound made a choking sound and lost all concentration on paying attention to her.

Obviously, they had more in common than simply being bipedal, Alicia thought with a giggle. She couldn't fault Hound one bit for paying her no more attention, if Mirage was doing what it looked like he was doing.

She focused instead on her relentless exploration underneath Hound's armor, trying to match Mirage's pace on the thick green cable. It was definitely another level of erotic, watching such a different race do such a familiar thing. The shivering metal under her and the moans behind her added to it.

Like their other interactions, he was as easy going and happily vocal in his pleasure as he was in idle conversation. Just as Mirage was as reserved in both. Now though, in pleasuring his lover, the blue and white mech lost much of his reserved nature.

The shudders were almost constant when Mirage drew his head away fully, earning a desperate whine from Hound.

"Come play with him," Mirage's voice was thick with arousal, his optics bright as he reached out to help her move down the powerful body she was on.

Alicia shivered with excitement at the invitation and practically purred, giving Mirage's hand a thankful caress before turning her complete attention to the thick cable the size of her leg, licking it and caressing it with her hands, once again surprised at how metal could feel so malleable and alive.

Hound made a sharp sound of surprised pleasure, and she felt his hips try to buck but Mirage had his weight on them, holding them down. The noble's bright optics were on her too, taking in the way she was exploring his lover's more intimate parts with nothing short of admiration.

"Si," Mirage's voice came out as nearly a hiss, and she doubted he had much more self-control going for him right now than his lover. Everything else he said was in their language, but the net result, the shudders and moans Hound offered in return, left little doubt what the gist of it was.

There was a moment of stillness, of near silence, and she heard what could only be described as heavily greased metal rubbing against metal before both mechs groaned in uncensored pleasure.

Alicia looked down to see an amazingly erotic sight of Mirage's own sky blue cable sliding into an opening underneath Hound's own cable. She felt a current sweep through her body as she wrapped her legs around the large green cable and relentlessly rubbed and licked, shamelessly grinding her own hot went cunt into it as she licked the tip.

She was sure she could feel a pulse inside it, the heat and contact was as intoxicating as watching Mirage roll and thrust his hips against Hound's, pulling his cable out and pushing it back in with well-practiced ease even as he alternated between watching her and watching Hound's face.

"Want ... inside you?" Mirage managed to translate for his lover, even if it was only half of what had probably been said.

Alicia groaned, unsure of how it was possible, but knowing Mirage would not have said it if it weren't. Watching Mirage thrust inside Hound was the most devastatingly erotic thing she had ever seen ... and being included had her almost completely undone.

"Si ... yes ... please," she moaned as she continued to rub herself, kiss, lick and caress the cable. She nearly squeaked in surprise when the thick length, suitable to sinking deeply into a large mech, altered size right against her to something much closer to a well-endowed human.

"Ride. Him." Mirage's vocals were strained, trying to hold himself back until he could witness this first mating with their future socket.

With one smooth thrust of her hips, she slid onto the phallic cable and moaned as it filled her perfectly. It was most definitely not human feeling, it seemed to make her whole body tingle starting from her cunt. She moaned again as she began to move up and down, riding it, her eyes locked on Hound's face and the exquisite rapture he so willingly expressed there.

She felt Mirage pick up his pace a little, the weight of the smaller mech shifting so Hound could thrust into her and participate fully in the threesome.

His first thrust into her took her breath away. She could feel Mirage's rhythm from behind her, and Hound matched that rhythm thrusting into her. She dug her hands into his seems, joining the rhythm with her own movement, clenching him with her cunt, sweat beginning to pour off her body from their combined heat.

Moans, clicks and whirrs from both of them echoed in her ears along with the sliding sound that would be forever branded in her brain as mech-sex. Hound brought his hands up, the cables he'd used on her earlier coming out again to caress her breasts, abs, and one small one slid gently into her ass. His fingers, however, interlaced with Mirage's on his hips as the heat pouring off both of them made the tropical marsh seem cold.

She would not last long. It was too overwhelming, her body already so primed from its previous climax. She cried out, calling out both of their names.

It was all it took to signal the pair. Hound howled as his namesake as warm, tingling fluid shot into her quivering body with each sharp thrust he made, filling every crevasse before pouring out between her legs to pool under her. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew Mirage was still holding him down, keeping the thrusts to a manageable level for her.

It was only when Hound stiffened fully, no longer thrusting, that the elegant mech let go. He keened his pleasure, a high, sharp sound that quickly left her audio range only to vibrate within every cell of her body as he thrust quickly into his lover, reaching his second orgasm quickly after holding off for so long.

From the corner of her eye Alicia could see Mirage's arm trembling, the fact that he'd locked the joints the only thing keeping him upright as he came down from the intensity.

She wanted to completely collapse, but kept her head enough to slide off of the cable, feeling more of the tingly fluid flow out of her. She moved upward to give Mirage room to collapse on his lover.

"That was amazing," she murmured, curling up on Hound's hot chest as he lowered Mirage against his lower body, all three of them drained and more than inclined not to move anytime soon.

"Very," Hound responded, his body doing everything it could to expel the excess heat as quickly as it could. "You are amazing, Alicia."

Mirage made some kind of sound she couldn't even begin to interpret between her state and his.

"He agrees, even if he can't muster the Spanish yet," Hound offered with a sated chuckle. "We always find the best things out in the wilderness."

Alicia made an almost feline stretch and then lay out flat on Hound's chest, letting her own heat pour off of her. "So ... you think I might be able to convince you two to camp out with me now? You certainly could convince me to come back to base with you."

Hound didn't hold back his amusement. "I'm sure we can," he gave her a wickedly mischievous grin even as Mirage made a small noise of protest. "He's always more agreeable when he knows it'll be worth it. And your small, delicate fingers can clean places neither of us can reach without completely stripping our armor off."

Alicia gave a cheeky wiggle of her fingers. "I look forward to doing that ... for both of you, though I'd be awfully curious to see underneath your armor."

"In time," Hound promised her, trying to distract her from the way Mirage tensed. "It is an extremely intimate thing, to display yourself like that. Some bonded couples have only seen each other's protoforms on landing," he attempted to explain as he caressed her with one finger.

"Mmm ... sorry about that, considering how I am completely displayed here, it was natural curiosity. There is an awful lot I don't know about either of you, despite having just had the most amazing sex in my life."

She relaxed into the touch, closing her eyes, enjoying the afterglow, the sounds of the birds on the marsh, even the sticky humid heat and sweat on her body. She felt grounded and earthy and fully in her own body in a way she hadn't felt in several years, and all that resting on the chest of a gigantic mechanoid alien. Who ever would have guessed.


	6. The Naturalists 2: Waking Different

**Fandom**: Transformers Bayverse (POV'verse)  
**Author**: gatekat and femme4jack on Livejournal  
**Pairing**: Mirage/Hound/Alicia Rodriguez  
**Rating**: NC-17 for mech/mech/female  
**Codes**: Slash, Het, Sticky, Xeno (mech/human)  
**Summary**: With the socket installed, Alicia spends her first night as a living Energizer Bunny for Hound and Mirage.  
**Notes**: RP written in the Point of View fanverse (community .livejournal .com/tf_matrix)  
"text" - English  
_"Spanish"_ translated to English  
**"Cybertronian Speech"** translated to English  
~Bond speak~ translated to English

* * *

**Shades of Grey 6:  
The Naturalists 2: Waking Different**

* * *

Awareness came slowly, like a morning fog lifting under the heat of the sun. There was warmth all around her, but not the muggy warmth of the marsh she'd spent much of her time in lately. It was a dry, not-sticky warmth that permeated her entire being and whispered to her to go back to sleep.

The _male_ voice right next to it was another matter. It was content too, but wasn't all that thrilled about her sleeping.

Alicia wasn't even sure she was aware of her own name, much less the name of the presence that seemed to be whispering in her head.

~Want to sleep,~ she murmured to the presence, even as she felt her body become more and more awake. She couldn't move, not even twitch a finger or a toe, or open her eyes. But her mind was becoming more and more fully awake; awake enough to feel that there was something there that had not been there before, and that there was someone with her.

"Welcome to the semi-functioning," Mirage's culture tones held a mixture of amusement and mild annoyance and the male presence in her head poked at her gently. ~You may rest more if you need to.~

Finally able to open her eyes, she saw only bright lights. Medbay ... she was in medbay ... had surgery. The voice was Mirage.

She moved her hand to her neck and found there was a cable leading from it.

~Mirage?~

_"I'm waking up. Just not sure I can move yet."_ Her voice sounded raspy and dry.

~Yes,~ he responded, her mostly-awake brain finally registering that he was think-talking to her in _her_ dialect of Spanish.

_"Don't rush it, no matter how fidgety he is,"_ a rough voice told her firmly.

~Ratchet,~ Mirage told her silently.

_"I'm here too,"_ Hound's soothing voice added from a bit further away in English. _"It went well."_

She smiled, her sense of humor waking up even as her body did. _"You know, no one from home would believe me if I told them I allowed any kind of technology, much less alien, be implanted in my body."_ ~I like the sound of your voice in my head, you sound even better in Spanish.~

She could _feel_ Mirage preen happily at the complement.

_"You'll give him an even worse ego problem than he already has,"_ Hound laughed deeply and she could feel Mirage's apparent annoyance was all for show. _"Seriously, how are you feeling?"_

She didn't mind the feel of Mirage preening one bit, and only laughed. _"I feel ok. No pain...but I'm sure you all have something to do with that. Just groggy, and really thirsty. It obviously works, given that I can hear Mirage in my head."_

She stretched a bit, and then asked. _"May I sit up?"_

_"As long as you don't feel dizzy at any point,"_ the medic told her.

It was only in preparing to do so that she realized that she was laying on Mirage's upper leg with his hands cupped to either side to ensure she didn't fall the couple feet to the medical bed he was sitting on.

"Mmmmm ... you make a nice bed. Anyone ever told you that?" She said as she slowly sat up. Feeling her head swim, she laid right back down. _"I think I need some water."_

"I've heard it a few times," Mirage smiled indulgently down at her and she got the sense that he'd indulge her _anything_. That she now came in second on his priorities list, behind only Hound.

_"Here, drink slowly,"_ Ratchet handed her a cloth-covered canteen. _"I'm going to unplug him to make sure the effects are from the sedative,"_ he added before reaching around and disconnecting the cable from her neck.

Alicia winced as the cable was disconnected and she was suddenly alone in her head. Abruptly what had been normal only yesterday now felt terribly empty.

She carefully took a drink, pressing her back into Mirage's leg to physically make up for the connection that had just been taken away, her other hand tracing the filigree patterns she could feel with her fingertips.

What she couldn't feel in her head, she could feel through her body as his engine revved slightly.

**_"Mirage_."** Ratchet's voice was a dangerous growl.

"Unlike some, I can control myself," the noble replied with an indignant tone even as he shifted one hand to caress her arm. "Besides," his voice softened to almost unrecognizable. "I would never injure my socket."

"She's not yours yet," Ratchet pointed out sharply. "I will not have you..."

"Ratchet," Hound interrupted the tirade before his bonded could. "He won't."

The medic whirled to glare at the scout, then huffed. "He'd better not."

Alicia felt Mirage's tension, and she leaned into the hand that caressed her and found that it soothed him as much as her. She _wanted_ that presence back inside her. It was as though something had been amputated. She heard the possessive term he used, and found that it did not bother her in the slightest. There was so much affection, tenderness and promise of protection associated with it. She had little doubt it was the same tone he used when he described Hound as _his_ bonded.

Possessiveness was simply how Mirage showed how much he cared.

"Neither of them will hurt me, Ratchet," she said, slipping into her native Spanish since it was clear everyone understood it just fine. "I trust them."

He huffed, looking between the pair. "Have they told you exactly what being their socket means?" he responded in the language he was addressed in by reflex.

"Ratchet, she would not be the first for _either_ of us, or both of us," Hound reminded him pointedly. "You _know_ I'd never let questionable consent or doubts be part of this when we commit."

"Well, yes," Ratchet admitted, though the look Mirage received left little doubt that the medic had no such faith in the noble. "The question still stands," he focused on her.

Alicia looked hesitantly between the three mechs.

"They have told me some of what it means, at least in terms of the practical benefits and intimacy the socket allows. It is obvious to me, even without your saying a thing, that there is much more to it than that, and I knew that even before signing my consent, but I'm guessing that would be a more proper conversation for private."

She hesitantly sat up again, this time feeling much better, taking another drink as Mirage shifted a hand to support her. She didn't want to imagine having that conversation in front of Ratchet, especially considering how intensely private Mirage seemed to be.

"It is," Ratchet gave a glare at Hound, who looked pointedly right back. "I expect that everything they told you is true, and it isn't everything. I'll trust Hound to do the right thing and explain it before you get in any deeper. It can remain at the level it's at. You don't have to allow anyone to claim you, not even to be in a long-term arrangement with them."

Alicia smiled pointedly at Ratchet. "I trust _both_ of them to do the right thing. And I've never been one to let others _claim_ me, but I'm guessing that, too, might mean something very different than what I've been used to in the past."

Her hand continued to trace Mirage's filigree as she wondered just how often the quiet, intense mech was misunderstood by those around him.

"Most likely," Ratchet nodded and ran another series of scans that made her tingle all over. "All right. I'll let you three go, but stay on base until I've cleared her for travel. I want all three of you back in the morning. Drink plenty of water, no alcohol."

"Will do," Hound said cheerfully.

Mirage nodded and carefully gathered Alicia in his hands, cradling her gently against his warm chest as he stood and walked next to Hound out of the medbay and towards another building. "I stocked our quarters with some suitable food and drink for you while you were in surgery," he told her softly in her native Spanish.

Alicia could truly listen to Mirage speak Spanish all day, every day. In rural Northern New Mexico where she had grown up, the dialect they spoke was very old, the Spanish equivalent of Old English, as though time had frozen when the conquistadors had arrived there in the 1500s. Mirage not only was speaking her language, he was speaking the dialect perfectly, as though he understood what that would mean to her.

"I think you could even win over the abuelitas in Truchas," she commented, and saw him smile slightly before she turned toward Hound. "I think they would prefer the two of you to any gringo I'd bring home."

She couldn't help thinking of the cat analogy again, the way Mirage was holding her, and once again she did not mind at all. The shift in Mirage from tolerant to affectionate was enough to make her feel like a giddy teen again, but she resisted the impulse.

"One day we may be able to meet your family as we are," Hound smiled at her warmly before waving at a relatively small electric blue mech walking very close to a taller gleaming silver one who was scatting on wheels instead of the feet most had. "Prime is working to allow us to go public. It'll take years though."

Soon they reached the building's door, which smoothly slid open into a well-lit hallway. They passed a few more mechs, all of whom greeted Hound, ignored Mirage, and looked at her with curiosity but said nothing as they passed.

Several doors and a left turn later they stopped outside a door that looked like all the others, but opened as they approached. Inside she recognized instantly as a living space. A mech-sized couch in front of an entertainment center, a double desk and two doors that led further in registered in her first visual sweep of the room.

"These are our quarters on base," Mirage spoke smoothly with just a bit of inflection to indicate he was less than content with them. "If you choose to stay with us, the second control panel," he motioned to one at her hand height. "Will be coded to you so you may come and go freely."

She nodded her understanding and took in the room just beyond the sliding door. It seemed positively _huge_ to her, easily the size of a large warehouse. Yet when she took in the proportions of the mechs and the comfortable-looking furniture, it seemed no larger than a normal living room.

She smiled brightly at both of them. "If I choose to stay with you, hmmm? I can't imagine anywhere else I would want to stay when I'm on base, but obviously there are things that need explaining, or at least Ratchet thinks you do. Am I to assume that there is a little more to this contraption on my neck that amazing threesomes?"

"There _can_ be," Hound said firmly as they moved to the couch and settled down. Mirage settled her on his lap, but there was also a space between them that was quite suitable for her if she wanted it. "I prefer to go more slowly, like any courting effort."

Mirage's low voice said a single thing, Hound's proper designation, and the couple glanced at each other.

"As Ratchet implied, there is more that's possible, and it is not required," serene blue optics met her gaze. "With the socket in place, we can feed off the energy of your pleasure to strength our sparks, our own life-energy. It requires nothing more than the implant and having a cable plugged into it when you feel things strongly."

"So ... I get to feel amazing and spend time with two incredible and fascinating individuals, and you get ... life energy from me. It sounds pretty symbiotic to me ... like the relationships that fascinate me most in my field studies, even at the most basic level. Eukaryotic cells are powered by mitochondria, which evolved from a separate organism ... but I'm sure you know that already," her voice faded, watching their optics ... which were hungry.

The scientist in her was fascinated and aroused by what Hound described. It did not sound at all unnatural ... no more unnatural than mechanoid life could be, though it seemed odd to her. True symbiotic relationships were rare in nature, which is what made them so compelling and fascinating.

"Has your kind always derived its life energy from organic sources? And has the relationship always been a symbiotic one? Such relationships are the exception rather than the rule in earthbound biology. You won't frighten me with the answer. The researcher in me is ... well ... completely aroused right now."

"We have for longer than recorded history," Mirage picked up the conversation smoothly. "It has not always been so gentle a symbiosis, but it has always involved an extension of both lifespans. The technology that allows us to harvest the energy can, and historically has been, used to dramatically increase the organic's lifespan, physical condition, disease resistance ... everything short of violence that might end your life. Most survive ten times their species average. Some survive longer. The leader of my House had one who lasted just shy of fifteen times his original lifetime before he had to be put down. All of that can be yours with nothing more than a request to Ratchet. Our payment for the life you give us."

"What Ratchet was talking about is a claiming," Hound continued. "It is much closer to a spark-bond in effect. You would always carry a part of us within you. The presence you felt when you woke up today would be permanent, would be both of us, and we would hear you as well. All without the hardline connection. The same nanites that allow that would also tell all other mechs that you are not available, that you have been _claimed_. That if they wish to draw on your energy they must get more than just your consent."

"Marriage, in perhaps the oldest form your world knows," Mirage suggested. "Some, like Jazz, have a standing policy that as long as his socket agrees, he's fine with it. I do not have such a ... generous ... nature." He used a slender finger to tip her face up to meet those bright golden-white optics and an expression that was frighteningly serious. "I will provide the best for you in all things. I will see to your happiness as well as your needs and pleasure. I will not share."

His words came out like the oath she was sure he meant them as. A promise and a warning all in one. What he offered, what he demanded.

There was so much to digest. The rational part of her brain was simply fascinated. She wanted to learn as much as she could about sockets, about how the energy transfer worked, even about past sockets the two had shared. The emotional part of her was thrilled that they desired her, but also deeply afraid. A single lifetime of commitment was already quite a thing to consider. But ten lifetime's worth? Or fifteen?

"A far deeper commitment than marriage, I think. Something that cannot be broken. I can see why you like to take it slow, Hound. I ... I am thrilled that you would both consider me a potential symbiot, but it is not a decision I can jump into ... no more than I could jump into a marriage with a human. The insecure little girl in me says 'what if you found you couldn't stand me after a few hundred years ... what then?' What sounds wonderful now could quickly become hell from a human point of view. I'm not saying no ... not in the least. Considering how fast everything has happened in the last 24 hours, it would be all to easy for me just to say hell yes. It has been the most amazing day of my life."

She moved so that she could sit between the two, touching them both, needing reassurance. It came with a finely crafted hand supporting her back and a thumb gently caressing her shoulder while Hound's strong, thick digits covered her legs and one rubbed her belly.

"Ratchet is too accustomed to the young mechs and even younger humans rushing into the claiming; usually their first," Hound said gently. "Ironhide is ancient, even by our standards, but he has fought alongside his for many years. They know each other well, so the change was not a large one. I would like to spend a decade or two to get to know you, and you to know us, before the claiming, if we do."

Hound paused and looked at his mate, then sighed. "It's not going to be nearly so easy for Mirage," he added quietly as he reached over to rub his free hand along the noble's slender shoulder. "But it is also not as permanent as I think you believe. It is not a spark-bond, and we can't control you through it. If any of us wish to break the claim it is possible. It's just not pleasant. It involves purging the nanites from your systems and not sharing pleasure. Eventually the bond will fade and leave an ache, no more."

Alicia leaned into their touch, feeling their affection for her, Hound's thumb on her belly igniting the non-scientific kind of arousal immediately.

"I'm sure we'll figure it out ... if ... or when the time comes. My parents engaged to be married after knowing one another but a few weeks, and they have had a long and happy marriage. My uncle and aunt courted for ten years, and also are very happy. As my grandmother would say, there are no recipes for these things. You must trust your instincts."

"There is one thing for me," Mirage seemed to gather his courage and forced himself to continue. "If you wish a human mate, find him before I claim you."

"He wasn't joking about not sharing well," Hound tried to make it sound a little less dire. "Until he can hear you full time he can run subroutines to keep it in check. Afterwards, it doesn't work so well."

"It is part of base programming of Tower mechs, what I am," Mirage tried to explain a little more. "Wealth and power does not come or stay with those who are not highly possessive of what they consider theirs. Like your nobles and inbreeding, we did what seemed best to preserve our status over the generations. It worked well within that society. Out here what made me a prized member of the Towers is rarely taken well."

Alicia nodded to Mirage in understanding, running her hand on his leg in affection and watched him relax. Coming from the isolated culture she herself was a part of, she understood all too well, even if she wasn't born with such programming. "If I find a human mate, would you still claim me?" she asked, always believing in being direct.

"If you allow me," he smiled a bit. "Most likely we would claim you both." He shifted a finger to play with her loose hair gently with the clawed tip. "It would be cruel to deny you your chosen mate. There is food and drink here," he shifted topics without changing tone, a mixture of arousal, want and determined patience. "You should fuel and hydrate."

"That is a relief to hear. I wouldn't want to have to choose. I can't imagine not having children someday, and though that _can_ be done without a mate thanks to technology, my Catholic upbringing makes me old fashioned enough to find that not an attractive prospect."

"Something to keep in mind," Hound smiled at her. "If humans respond as every other race I am aware of, you will be fertile until a decade or two of the end."

Alicia leaned into Mirage's continued caresses, but the grumbling of her stomach gave her away. "I _am_ hungry. Lets see what you have."

Mirage had a half nervous, half hopeful expression as he offered to pick her up and walked her to the corner of the room near the door. She'd missed it the first time, but now she realized this part of the living room had been given to things her size. A full, if small kitchen, round table suitable for two or three, a desk with a computer and a sitting area with her own entertainment center so she didn't have to deal with the one designed for people four to five times her height.

"There is a variety from base stock for the Mexican and American palate," Mirage said as he set her down. "I also asked Silverbolt to make a run to one of our contacts in New Mexico for a few items of better quality. No sangria today, however."

Alicia couldn't contain her delight. How had her nose missed the smell when she first came in? Or was it that the smells were so familiar? A slow cooker on the stove was full of authentic posole, something she hadn't even tasted since her last trip back home. Warming in the oven were what appeared to be chile rellenos, not the horrible stuff one would get at a Mexican restaurant, but the real thing, with chiles that looked like they could have grown in their garden back home. Looking in the fridge, she found an amazing variety of things, including many authentic foods from home, not to mention fresh horchata, which she immediately poured in a glass.

"Mirage, Hound! You brought New Mexico to Diego Garcia! Yo lo adoro!"

She didn't miss the satisfied expression on Mirage's face, or the indulgent amusement on Hound's as he watched his mate, and she fixed herself a plate and ate like someone who hadn't seen real food in months or even years.

"Autentico," she murmured in appreciation.

"Good," Mirage smiled warmly and sat on the floor near her table, his voice a warm blanket to her ears and mind. "Something of home is precious when you have been away for too long," he spoke with a wealth of knowledge painfully gained, but also of an honest pleasure in giving her something of her home. "There will be a proper integrated living quarters assigned to us if you stay with us. Not claimed. Just to accept the invitation to be with us while you are courted. For now it would be best if you bathe with one of us. You could easily be injured in our washrack. It could not be modified on such short notice."

Alicia laughed musically, finishing her dinner. He was charming her, and she knew it ... and loved every minute of it. "Why Mirage, are you offering to give me a shower? Because if that is the case, I accept. And stay with both of you, and let you court me? I would be a complete fool not to accept that as well ... but I hope you will come camp with me, too. I'm afraid I don't do too well if I'm confined in doors overlong."

"I was thinking a bath," he nearly purred. "I am quite familiar with the needs of the wilderness-loving," he gave an adoringly amused look at Hound in the safety of their quarters. "I have successfully courted one already, after all."

Hound bit back a snicker before rumbling eagerly. "A bath, and then an introduction to the full usefulness of a socket," he agreed as Mirage picked her up to cradle her against his chest again for the relatively short walk to the left of the two doors.

It opened as they approached, lights turned on without command to reveal what she quickly decided was a shower large enough for both mechs, a tub that Hound could probably submerge completely in with Mirage and a space against the far wall that was mirrored with a chair, cabinet and small table.

"You can tend to your waste disposal needs there," Mirage drew her attention to a section directly to the left of the door that had been enclosed, probably large enough for a small bathroom, or at least a toilet and sink.

As Mirage let her down, Alicia attended to those needs without embarrassment, pleasantly surprised at the lack of smell in what was little more than an advanced porta-potty, returning to both mechs undressed and ready to bathe and explore the new technology she had so eagerly agreed to.

"A bath sounds perfect," she practically purred as pleasant fragrance touched her nose, and it took her a moment to identify a soft jasmine scent.

She walked over to the inset tub, or good-sized pool to her, watching as Hound settled into steaming water with an appreciative sound. Mirage fiddled with some type of controller near the edge before slipping in, an expression of undisguised bliss crossing his face. Then Hound pulled him down for a heated, demanding kiss that was returned with full fervor.

She took a deep breath of the delicious scent even as she watched the equally delicious view in front of her. Such passion after ... however long they'd been together. She was sure it wasn't short even by their timeframes. She lowered herself into the warm water, holding on to the side in the deep pool.

Despite the way the two mechs were rubbing, kissing and caressing each other, she found two hands under her before she's sunk in to her breasts. There was a moment and Mirage relinquished her support to Hound. While Mirage used both his free hands to torment his lover into moaning loudly, Hound transferred Alicia to his shoulder. It was more than deep enough for her to luxuriate in the warmth and have a fine view of what they were doing, but not so deep that she needed to tread water to stay afloat.

"What would you like to watch?" Mirage's voice was low and rich with his desire, his optics on her.

The shuddering moan that escaped Hound at the suggestion caused his optics to flash brightly.

Alicia had far more in mind than watching, but _watching_ was amazing. And made her hot ... far hotter than the water. She absentmindedly touched the back of neck, surprised to find how hyper sensitive the socket felt ... like a brand new erogenous zone.

"I don't know ... I love watching both of you. How _else_ do you pleasure each other? I want to see. I want you to teach me."

Mirage got a downright mischievous glint in his optics and nudged Hound's hand up towards her again. "Let him plug into you," he purred deeply as his free hand teased his mate.

Alicia licked her lips, a thrill traveling down her whole body in anticipation as Hound teasingly let his cable travel up her body toward her new socket, teasing the outside as she gasped.

"And to think I was always trying to get unplugged from technology," she teased, staring into Mirages optics as he watched Hound prepare to plug into her for the first time, which was a devastatingly erotic thought. She wished she could see it going in.

The contact was gentle, and felt almost familiar in a way she didn't care to contemplate as a sudden rush of emotion and male arousal swept over her when Mirage stretched upward to claim a hard, tongue-dueling kiss from Hound.

_Glossa_ the word presented itself in her mind, along with the Cybertronian sounds it had been translated from.

She gasped as Hound shared the sensations and emotions with her. She could feel the relentlessness of the kiss, alien yet so very similar. She could feel Hound's complete devotion to his mate - _bonded_ and it's Cybertronian word that meant so very much more filtered into her awareness - his desire and affection for her. It was unlike any kind of intimacy she had ever experienced, and she craved it like a drug.

"More!" she said cried in her mind and aloud at once.

The response was immediate. Mirage moved his hands across Hound's body, caressing wires and teasing sensor nodes imbedded in armor, giving her a taste of what her touch had done for the scout in their first encounter.

Alica _felt_ Mirage's hand moving across Hound, as though his entire body was a giant erogenous zone, and Mirage, with so many years of experience, knew exactly how to stroke him. She moaned, her human voice blending with Hound's own very vocal expressions of pleasure.

"Mama Maria," she cried out as his hands struck one particularly sensitive spot, her own body jerking as though it had been touched.

"It gets far better," Mirage promised silkily, his hands working his mate's pleasure much as Hound had worked him the first time she'd watched. "But for a first time, I think we'll keep it simple."

**"Primus she's strong,"** Hound moaned in Cybertronian, something that she realized belatedly that she heard as Spanish in her head.

Alicia desperately wanted to join in touching Hound, or to touch Mirage, but she found she could not move. She was so overwhelmed by the sensations that Mirage was creating in Hound, sensations that she could feel, along with the emotions that they brought to the big green mech. He desired his lover, and he desired her as well, but in such a different way, though no less passionate. He was hungry for her, for her life, for her vitality, for her everything that made her human, and it was a hunger that would not take from her, but rather give. Mirage again touched something intensely sensitive and she nearly hissed with pleasure.

"I want you both so much," she groaned, beginning to writhe simply from what she felt through the socket - Hound's pleasure, feeding her own, feeding back into his spark - a feedback loop that left her dizzy with untamed need.

Mirage looked up from where he was nibbling on Hound's neck, his golden-white optics burning with intensity. "We want you," he spoke in her native Spanish, his voice low and passion filled. "Touch him, touch yourself, touch me as you desire," his voice wavered in his own building need. "You understand what it gives to us now."

It was as if Mirage's words set her limbs free, and she began to freely caress and explore Hound's frame as she had before, but this time, she could feel his pleasure inside her, guiding her to where she should touch. Soon her hands were once again slipping beneath armor plates, Hound's presence encouraging her where to touch. When Mirage's hand joined hers, she kissed it and teased it with her tongue.

It was a distant realization, too much of her was focused on the pleasure swirling inside her, but it still registered that she could feel her touch on _Mirage_ too.

~We are bonded,~ Hound moaned, the term coming out in Cybertronian with all its myriad levels of complexity she was in no condition to sort out yet. ~I feel him, you feel through me.~

"Amazing," she whispered out loud, nearly completely overwhelmed by the triple helix of sensations she experienced through the connection, her own breathing coming in gasps. She felt as though she could drown in it, then be revived, only to drown again.

Without warning, Mirage slid one delicate finger down her body to slip between her legs, offering her a little direct stimulation as he leaned down to claim Hound's mouth again, pouring all his passion and desire into it and through his bond with Hound for her to feel.

~Come for us, beautiful Alicia,~ Hound shivered at the triple assault he was facing. ~Please,~ he begged shamelessly.

Alicia nearly screamed at the surprise of the skilled finger, and ground herself shamelessly into it, riding it with her body just as she rode the pleasure from both of the mechs through the connection, closing her eyes as she realized she could _feel_ Hound drinking in her pleasure like someone who had been dying of thirst. It drove her mad with pleasure, and she writhed.

The elegant finger slipped inside of her, and that alone was enough to put her over the edge, but nothing prepared her for what she felt as she climaxed. The coiling, rolling ecstasy that locked every muscle and completely took over her mind and body was intense, but it was nothing compared to the feeling of the two mechs with her as they shuddered, forcing themselves to hold back so they could feel every sensation she experienced as waves of pleasure unique to this sharing.

She felt Hound's spark, his _life_, flare brightly as she fed it. More distantly Mirage's did the same, though not as strongly. Both were past the ability to speak, reduced to the basis of their language and the hot ecstasy of having their sparks fed after so long slowly growing weaker from starvation.

Panting desperately for breath, she barely registered that she'd been placed on the bath's edge before the joint orgasm ... _overload_ ... tore through her from the connection as the pair surrendered to their need with a few touches and pressure of their hips together. She screamed as their overload hit her through the connection, causing a second climax to rip through her, making her physically shake and twitch from the multiple levels of feedback. A tiny part of mind wondered how much of this a person could take.

She was not surprised to find tears on her face as she came to her senses, not from pain, but from the overwhelming emotions of being so very intimate.

Mirage and Hound, even though they weren't in any condition to stand themselves, still managed to scoop her up gently and settled her on Hound's broad shoulder so they could caress her soothingly while all three slowly came down from the full impact of the sharing.

"I had forgotten how exquisite that feels," Mirage murmured against Hound's chest, his fingers stroking Alicia's back, radiating a sated satisfaction that she could feel through Hound's own delighted exhaustion. "Thank you."

"Yes, thank you Alicia," Hound agreed, his fingers forming a protective nest for her on his shoulder. "It has been so long."

Mirage made an agreeable sound as he settled down for a brief rest on his bonded's chest.

Alicia basked in the heat and affection through fingers and through the connection. She gave a giggle, sounding for the moment much younger than she was, feeling almost drunk on the power of the multiple shared climaxes.

"Thank me? For enjoying the ride? I'm the one who should be thanking both of you. I've never felt anything like that. If that is what it means to be your little mitochondria, sign me up yesterday."

She gives a luxurious stretch on Hound's shoulder, and kissed it, then reached her hand to pull Mirage's finger to her lips, kissing it as well. Through the connection with Hound, she could feel how pleased, content, they both were; Hound's was strongest, Mirage's an echo through him.

"Thank you, because you have given us life," Mirage crooned in her native Spanish as he caressed her tenderly. "You have eased the ache of long starvation, and done so willingly. That you wish to take us in turn for the pleasure is welcome too."

There was a brief pause in his words, and she felt the thrum of energy passed between the two.

"Another round, hooked to me this time?" Mirage asked with undisguised desire.

She felt a shiver run all the way down her body. For a moment she wondered if a human body could take much more, but it was only a passing thought as desire literally erupted in her again, and it was unclear whether it was her own or theirs or all combined. An image ghosted through her mind of Mirage's spike buried in her and she clenched her thighs in need.

"God yes."

A beautiful smile graced Mirage's face at her reaction and he snaked his connector cable up her body even as Hound disconnected his. There was a moment of mental emptiness, then Mirage's presence filled her, caressing her mind with a tenderness that was founded in being trained to do so rather than the natural gentleness of his bonded. A moment later the full hunger of the noble hit her, dragging a moan from her as she realized that while Mirage had received some energy, the bulk had gone to Hound.

He reached out his hand for her to float onto and rolled over in the deep tub when she was safely secured to move with him as he lay back on Hound's chest and moaned when his lover's hands came around him to stroke down his chest.

She was on fire with his need for her energy, with her need for them both. She could no longer distinguish between whose desire belonged to whom. She pulled herself up to Mirage's face and kissed his lip-plate, her eyes looking at Hound's optics, watching them with a mixture of warmth and unfiltered desire that mirrored and stroked their own fire.

Pulling herself down, she began to explore Mirage's armor and seems as she had done the day before with Hound, tracing the elegant filigree, then finding gaps and caressing what lie underneath, his pleasure through the connection guiding her hands. Mirage's head fell back to rest on Hound's shoulder, willingly submitting to both his lovers with an absoluteness that would stun her when it eventually sunk in.

Mirage's vents hitched and a surge of _need-desire-dothatagain!_ escaped him when her hand pushed beneath the surface wires just below his chest plates and touched something solid, complexly shaped and very warm.

~_Transformation cog_~ she heard Hound's voice distantly through his bond with Mirage and then through the cable connected to her.

It was amazing, completely amazing to be able to pleasure a lover guided by _feeling_ that lover's own pleasure, thoughts, and emotions. It made her so bold, even as her own body reacted to the feedback making her gasp. And being able to even _hear_ Hound's warm thoughts and affection through his bond with Mirage, appreciating the pleasure she was giving to his mate as he worshiped his mate's frame with his own caresses ... this was true intimacy, and everything she had experienced before was but a pale comparison. She shared with them not just physical pleasure, but emotional delight and something that bordered on spiritual.

Guided by the certainty of the connection, she caressed Mirage's transformation cog, her other hand finding a warm pulsing... ~_energon line_~ Hound supplied even as she worked her tongue into another seem in Mirage's exquisite armor.

His entire frame shivered as a long, low moan escaped him.

~**YES!**~ she heard Mirage gasp clearly even though it was directed away from her. Before she could work out what he'd agreed to there was a ripple in the water behind her as Hound's hands shifted their attention to Mirage's lower half.

A moment later an exquisite pleasure she couldn't quite name made her moan right along with Mirage. They both trembled as she finally placed the sensation. Hound had released his bonded's cock ... ~_spike_~ ... and was slowly stroking it, teasing the elegant mech with knowledgeable fingers.

Alicia was shaking with desire as Hound expertly touched Mirage's spike. The feedback was so intense that she could no longer focus on what to do with her own fingers and hands. Her body ached to be filled again, this time with the added intensity of the socket connection. She was murmuring her encouragement in Spanish, losing control. She didn't know if she was speaking for herself or out of the desire she felt from the two mechs when she began to plead. "Please..."

Mirage was trembling under her as he guided her to his pelvic girdle and the spike as long and thick as her arm. Even in the lust driven haze she knew she couldn't take that in.

~You don't have to,~ Mirage's mind was nearly as far gone as her was, his spark pulsing fiercely with energy she provided it and the desire singing through his expertly crafted frame. ~Stroke me,~ he groaned as Hound's hand left him to play at his hips instead to hold him reasonably still for her. ~Let my chasses know you.~ he nearly begged. Somewhere in the background was the knowledge that his spike would adjust to her just as Hound's had on reflex, that he was asking for himself, for his pleasure and desire.

Hearing Mirage beg her with so much desire nearly did her in. She gave herself over to that desire with abandon, lavishing attention on him, caressing, licking, rubbing her breasts on his spike, nearing climaxing herself just from the feedback she received. She bathed his tip with her tongue, kissing his length, thrilled by his own desire and his willingness to ask her for what he wanted. That itself told her how much she had come to mean to him in such a short amount of time. If he had asked at that moment, she would be his, regardless of all of her innate caution.

~Not a choice for passion,~ he managed to think to her, his vocalizer lost to moans and inarticulate pleas in his native dialect of Cybertronian as he thrust into her contact as much as Hound allowed him. Tiny flicks of electricity began to dance along his frame, just strong enough to be felt without hurting, as his shuttered his optics.

Within a few kisses and strokes, his spike had shrunk to something suited to her.

"Want to feel him in you," Hound managed through his gasps. "He's so ready, you feel it? Feel what you do to him?"

Alicia didn't even bother answering Hound out loud ... she couldn't. She simply moaned and moved herself so that his tip was right at her entrance, waiting for him to thrust, wanting to feel claimed at least in this manner.

She could feel Mirage's surprise just before he obliged her, thrusting up enough to sink fully into her slick entrance and push her up just a bit to ensure he was fully seated. His head fell back, his entire body trembling as they felt Hound shift under him before the scout's spike drove into Mirage's valve hard, fast and deep. There was no hesitation between the mechs. Hound held Mirage's hips tightly, controlling his ability to move as he set a grueling pace not meant to last.

The flare of raw arousal that had nothing to do with physical pleasure shot through Mirage and into her at the treatment, at being forced to take what he was given with little say in the pace of it.

Mirage's wanton response to Hound's domination was matched by her own. She understood, at least understood from her own point of view as an intelligent, independent woman, who wanted a lover to take control, to take her in a way that would never be tolerated outside of bed. She rocked her hips and began to move, not even hoping to match Hound's pace, just needing to move, needing to feel him inside of her even as she _felt_ Hounds driving thrusts into Mirage. She threw her head back with a "yess", tingles beginning to run through her entire body.

~Want you, want you both so much.~

~You have us,~ Mirage managed to tell her before he cried out, his valve tightening around the thick spike driving into him and the first burst of fluid erupting from his spike and into her. The intensity of his duel overload, something far stronger than what she'd felt with Hound, crashed down on her a heartbeat after it hit him, pushing the noble into the mindless place where pleasure bordered on pain and his body was the master for a few brief, exquisite moments.

Their dual overload sent her crashing into her own climax, which belonged to them as well, filling their sparks with her own seemingly unlimited life force. Once again, she completely lost track of where she began and where they ended and rode the flood of passion, pleasure, and emotion that touched every part of her body, mind and soul. Yet again, tears were running down her face as she came back to herself, only this time, she truly was sobbing, completely overwhelmed with the intimacy she had experienced.

She found herself cradled in their hands and against Mirage's chest above the water. Concern flowed across the link she had with Mirage, and she could feel Hound's through it and his mate. Gentle fingers and cables caressed her soothingly as Mirage did his best to offer her mental support when he didn't really understand what was wrong, even as intimately connected as they were.

~Not wrong...not wrong. Very very right. Its a human thing...perhaps a human female thing. To cry with joy and not just pain.~

To be so closely connected, to be felt and known and pleasured and to give beyond anything she ever thought was possible. What response could there be save laughter and tears and gratitude deeper than any she had felt before.

"Overwhelmed. It is known to us," Mirage murmured to her, as always in her native dialect of Spanish as he disconnected his cable from her and relaxed back against his bonded's strong, wide frame. "Perhaps not the tears, but when we bonded..." his voice trailed off, still unable to articulate what that night had been like. "It would definitely be best to take our time," he smiled down at her fondly. "No matter how sure we are of the end results, if the most simple of sharing does this to you, the claiming could be too much if we rush into it."

She felt no embarrassment at her reaction. She knew it was accepted and understood, and Mirage was right. "I couldn't agree more. If that is simple sharing...my mind and body aren't ready for more, at least not yet."

The disconnection was not as jarring this time, though she did still feel terribly alone. However that did not last long as she was physically reassured of their presence.

She yawned and gave a stretch. "Is it not normal ... for _simple sharing_ to cause such a huge reaction in a new socket?"

"Not in our experience, but you're our first socket from a culture that hasn't had generations to get used to the idea," Hound tried to explain as they settled a bit before getting back to cleaning. "It could be you, that your particular system resonates with unusual strength with ours ... which is true, it does. Among mechs, that is a strong sign that the pair should bond. With a socket, it's taken as a sign that they should be with that mech, since the more your energy resonates with who you're sharing with, the more benefit the mech gets."

"It could simply be the enormity of what is happening is starting to sink in," Mirage added gently as he stroked her back in a comforting rather than arousing manner. "There are some human cleansers if you wish to clean up before we show you your berth, and ours."

Alicia nodded, both of their explanations seeming very sensible. She _was_ overwhelmed. In such a short period of time, her life had completely changed. Things she never could have imagined being the case were now the forefront of her reality. But she had no doubt that she was exactly where she wanted to be.

Smiling, she said, "cleaning up and sleep both sound like exactly what Ratchet would order, and I'd have to agree." Taking what Mirage offered, which, no surprise, was the best that money could buy with a definite focus on her preferences, she made short work of washing her body and her hair in continuously circulating warm water.

Mirage gently placed her on the floor near the edge where two soft, fluffy towels were neatly folded and watched as the mechs shifted, careful not to splash her or slop water onto the floor. As she rubbed her hair dry, she heard them get out and the sound of powerful air blowers enveloped the room.

She couldn't find it in her weary body to be surprised, though she did find it amusing, that even after what they'd just done with her their touches were more affectionate than helpful as they dried off. She'd be willing to bet that if she wasn't there, there would be another round or two before they got to their berth.

"Newlyweds," she couldn't help the giggle at the thought. No matter how long they'd been together, they definitely still acted like it.

"Oh we're not half as bad as some couples," Hound chuckled deeply as the air turned off. "We keep it out of public view."


	7. Sunny Side Up 2: Complications

**Fandom:** Transformers Bayverse (POV'verse)  
**Author:** gatekat, prophetbot on LJ  
**Pairing:** Sunstreaker/Sideswipe/Shimmerfire  
**Rating:** NC-17 for mech/mech  
**Codes:** Slash, Twincest, Mechsmut, Sticky, Sparksex, Violence  
**Summary:** Sunstreaker promised his brother they'd have that talk, he just didn't expect it to be this hard.  
**Notes:** Written in the Point of View fanverse .com/tf_matrix/

* * *

**Shades of Grey 7:  
Sunny Side Up 2: Complications**

* * *

After the much needed wash, the twins finally bid their farewells to Shimmerfire for the remainder of the day. Sunstreaker was particularly pleased that his fans were back to their normal functioning speed, convinced that it had been the 'Earth grime' after all. Once they had returned to their quarters together, the golden mech plucked up a vial of high grade energon and sat down at the area he had formally dubbed his workstation. A half-finished portrait was staring him mockingly in the face, causing the frontliner to scowl indignantly.

"Slagging work keeps me too busy," he muttered, scrapping the canvas as he no longer had inspiration for that particular work. After tossing it listlessly into the garbage bin close to his feet, he took a swig of his high grade, optics shifting to the overly quiet frame of his brother. Great. The sun-kissed mech _had_ said he would talk to Sideswipe about what had been on his processor earlier - no, not just earlier; a longer stretch of time than that - but he was stalling. He knew the subject all too well, and that was precisely the reason for his reluctance.

~Sides,~ he began, taking to their bond in order to speak on the off-chance that someone was listening, ~Was it that merge with Shimmerfire that got you all contemplative?~ Better to start slowly, Sunstreaker thought.

~I suppose,~ Sideswipe answered quietly from where he was staring at the ceiling from their berth. ~Never really stopped thinkin' about it, you know. Just never had anybody _want_ me that way, even if it was just base coding reacting to some things she likes.~

The golden mech sighed audibly, a tuft of warm breath from out of his facial vents. ~What are you talking about?~ he questioned gruffly, turning away from his workstation and watching the silver frontliner from his seat. ~You know _I_ want you. There's just nothing we can do about it.~ Sunstreaker snorted, shaking his head as if it were towards the universe for putting them in this situation.

~You don't want sparklings with me,~ Sideswipe explained patiently. ~She's the first who ever wanted _that_. And I know there's nothing to be done about it, bro. It doesn't stop the want. Doesn't stop me from wondering if maybe they just told us it's impossible because they don't know any better, not because they _know_. Twins aren't exactly a well-understood thing, you know.~

Sunstreaker downed the high grade vial quickly, tossing the empty shell in the trash so he could join Sideswipe on the berth. He sat on the edge, his optics off-lining for a moment while he thought. ~I doubt they would tell us something of that much importance if they didn't know. There are risks, that much is for sure.~

For a few kliks, they were quiet, and Sunstreaker reached out a servo to gently rub against his brother's helm. ~I wish I could give you that, Sides, I really do. I wish I could give you everything.~

~You give me enough,~ Sideswipe smiled tenderly upwards and clasped his hand around his brother's arm, reaffirming his words as best he could. ~This is just a battle that went badly. We survived, that's all that really matters. You and me.~

Sunstreaker shook his head, shifting and finally allowing the bulk of his frame to fall alongside Sideswipe on the berth, taking to watch his twin rather than the ceiling. ~Enough isn't enough. That's not what you _want_.~

He loved his brother more than anything: more than his home, or art, or the battlefield. ~I'm crazy for you, glitch-head. Well, crazy _about_ you anyway, since I guess I don't need you to just be plain crazy.~ Sunstreaker offered a laugh. ~But...~

"Tch." It was sort of hard for him to keep this train of thought. ~...if it would make you happy, I could go searching for a socket myself.~

He felt the shock first, then a kind of gratitude that truly had no words as Sideswipe shifted to his side to kiss his brother deeply with their bond fully opened.

~I'm more than crazy about you,~ the silver warrior finally murmured between them. ~You _are_ my other half more literally than any bonded couple, not even Jazz and Prowl. I wish I could give you everything too,~ he whispered as he stroked perfect golden plating, once more admiring how they set each other off as the most valuable metals on this world. ~If you find a socket, it's good,~ he continued to stroke Sunstreaker's flank. ~I can't ask you to, knowing how hard it is on you. I'll find one eventually.~ He leaned in and kissed him again. ~You know the military types don't suit me very well.~

Sunstreaker's engine revved underneath his chassis, responding positively to the passionate attention he received. ~Yes, but Jazz and Prowl are able to do things we can't,~ he insisted, trying to make an emphasis on the fact that he understood the problem, and given the chance, he would do _anything_ to change it. ~And it doesn't matter if it's hard on me. It's your main priority that the socket has to please me in the first place, isn't it? Therefore it should be me searching.~

Sideswipe smiled at him with the unfiltered, absolute adoration he'd never show in public, not even across their bond, and kissed him soundly.

Giving in to those touches, the golden twin growled, shifting his body so that he could use both hands to grip possessively at the silver warrior's aft. ~You deserve more than I can give you, Sides,~ he offered quietly before claiming those tempting lips with his own, glossa forcing mouth plates apart.

There wasn't even a nanoklik of hesitation in Sideswipe's surrender, and nothing but passion and adoration across their bond as their tongues dueled and interface covers slid back.

~Love you bro,~ Sideswipe murmured what neither would ever say out loud, but never forgot they felt.

~Love you too,~ Sunstreaker assured, although he didn't have to say it when he was sure his brother could _feel_ it. The golden mech especially loved these special moments together where they could completely bare themselves to one another. Sideswipe was the only one ever that Sunstreaker would let that close. No exceptions.

Gold servos drifted to grasp at silver hips, settling so that Sunstreaker could use the leverage to sit up and press himself between his brother's legs. A fully pressurized spike prodded against Sideswipe's valve, a small warning of preparation until he simply shoved it inside the waiting opening. Sideswipe moaned instantly, dragging his brother down on him as if they still wasn't close enough.

Sideswipe shuddered and moaned, pressing and rubbing his legs along his brother's, streaking silver and gold together. Rocking and moaning, he sent the command to open his chest and expose his spark. He might do this almost as casually as he'd spike or get spiked, but experience had taught him all the tricks for holding part of himself back.

Only with his brother did he drop every firewall and barrier, expose everything he was, everything he could be and wanted to be.

Sunstreaker responded in turn, unafraid of letting every part of himself go when it was just Sideswipe to see him that in that manner. His spark, his reason for existing in the first place, could only truly be whole this way. Golden chest plates hissed and parted, drowning the area between them in a light that rivaled that of the sun.

He hesitated only because he moved a servo to grab at his brother's neglected spike, pleasuring the tip with his thumb as he finally pushed their chassis together. It was easier to get deeper into his brother this close, metal clanging every buck with enough force to slowly move the silver warrior up the berth.

The two halves didn't waste any time reaching out to each other. There were no exploratory tendrils, only two brilliant golden orbs of life rushing towards each other with the same desperation to be whole as the mechs they supported.

In the first pulse of union was confirmation of what they meant to each other. No matter how they acted, they were everything to the other.

In the second was everything that was important since the last time they were whole. Sideswipe's longing, his understanding, even lingering pain from their separation in the last part of the mission. Sunstreaker's frustration for not being able to provide Sideswipe with what he wanted most, his desire to push all possible limitations to change what he could and love his brother nonetheless if he couldn't.

In the third pulsation, Sunstreaker pulled his brother into all that he was, offering his memories, his emotions, his being, his spark. They connected both physically, in the realm of reality, and soulfully, something that the golden mech treasured the most in the entire universe.

~Sideswipe,~ his voice sounded like an echo in his own head, but he could _feel_ his brother all around him. ~If there was ever a possibility that you could spark bond with me, would you do it?~

There was a flicker of confusion, _we are spark bound_ floating unsaid before a very solid ~Yes~ passed between them with all the fierce protectiveness and passion that was Sideswipe.

As twins, they had been spark bonded since they were configured, but that hadn't been a choice on their part as halves of the same spark. Sunstreaker couldn't possibly fathom an unconditional affection such as theirs being limited because of they way they were, because of the way they were created. He felt that even if they had been on-lined with their own sparks, he would have been pulled towards Sideswipe like a magnet.

~I love you.~ For a moment, he drifted in that bliss, and then finally focused on all of the pleasure he felt in the physical realm, sending all of that energy at his brother like a wave and coupling it with that of the ecstasy his usually aching spark felt now that it was touching its other half.

Sideswipe took it all in, shuddered at the intensity beyond any overload a casual lover could provide, and wrapped his brother in it all before letting go completely and dragging that sweet sense of being whole and content into his overload.

A golden servo pumped out every last ounce of transfluid that his brother had to give with that overload, his own shuddering sensations giving in almost exactly at the same time, only his coated the inner walls of his twin's clenching valve. Even after they overloaded, however, Sunstreaker didn't want to leave, to feel the pain of separation.

~So perfect,~ he growled where Sideswipe would purr, enveloping himself in the completion his brother made him feel when they were connected this way. ~Mine.~

~Always,~ Sideswipe wrapped his arms around his brother and held him close, prolonging their merge well past overload. ~Always and forever.~

An unpleasant noise cracked into their happy haze, triggering subroutines that prepped their systems for battle.

There was a pause while the sound was recognized, and the initial response originated from Sunstreaker.

~_Slag_ no.~

A feral growl emitted from deep within the golden mech's throat cables, one that was accompanied by the rumble of his engine, this time in distaste. ~At this time of night? Slagging 'Cons.~

Sunstreaker didn't _want_ to separate, but by Primus he knew that they had to, especially when there was a chance of consequences for attempting to ignore the signal. As he pulled away, he could feel the last tendrils of his spark desperately reaching out for its other half.

Sideswipe was the one who whined piteously at the loss, though, before both were on wheeled pedes, interface panels closed and blades snapped to battle ready.

They pinged the main computer and retrieved their orders, which these orns consisted of which plane and runway to report to.

"Let's go slag those 'Cons for interrupting us," Sideswipe growled as they skated at full speed towards the runways.

"A little jet judo ought to put them in their place," Sunstreaker smirked in kind, his blades glinting even in the moonlight, thirsty for Decepticon energon. "The faster we slice them in half, the faster we can come back. I'm not done with you yet."

"Just keep your sparks shielded until _after_ we get back," Ironhide bellowed at them. "Transport 3." He pointed to the one Jolt was rolling into.

Above them Shimmerfire, Tread Bolt and the Aerialbots were circling, ready to defend the transports and then fight once they reached the battle.

"Grumpy old sod," Sunstreaker murmured, gliding up to the transport Ironhide had indicated and transformed into his alt mode as he rolled in, his brother beside him.

Sideswipe pressed up against him as they settled in for the flight, his engine purring a soothing vibration to keep them both in check.

Then Jazz and Prowl rolled in behind them.

Their newest mission surely was an important one with how many 'bots were joining, not that Sunstreaker didn't mind a little action, but being so rudely interrupted was not boding well with him.

The two Lamborghini Murcielagos, silver and gold, settled closer to the back of the transport, centered together to make room for the humans as they took seats among the rim of the plane. ~Hey, Sides. What do you say to letting me paint you when we get back, after recharge? If I don't bust out of my creative slump, that part of my processor is going to rust.~

~You know I love to pose for you,~ Sideswipe rumbled deeply at the thought. ~I love inspiring you.~

~You'd have to try posing _without_ making me want to 'face with you for hours. As difficult as that is.~ The golden Murcielago revved, a smug air about him as the carrier prepared for flight.

~I think I'm up for the challenge,~ Sideswipe chuckled and pressed against him. ~I'm surprised Prime let Jazz and Prowl come. There's no way their processors are going to be on the battle.~

Sunstreaker's external scans picked up the interior of the plane, grazing over the vehicle modes of their superiors and thrumming with agreement. ~He must have a special job for them or something.~ What with Jazz coming back to life so recently, the golden warrior couldn't help but wonder what their Prime was thinking.

~And it's a really big battle,~ Sideswipe added. ~But still, the mech was dead not a metacycle ago and Prowl's still not normal.~

~Prime wouldn't put them into battle if he didn't believe they could handle it. He has faith in his warriors.~ The golden mech revved his engine a couple of times for his brother, idling only when some of the organic soldiers whooped from the noise as the plane took off with its cargo.

~I know.~ Sideswipe settled. ~Just makes me wonder what they know that we don't.~

~Maybe we'll find out,~ Sunstreaker suggested, but otherwise left his brother's mind to wander. He was generally ignoring the noise bustling about around them, mostly the humans chattering amongst themselves.

This was always the worst part of a battle alert. The waiting, cooped up in a flying, sparkless tin can that couldn't even avoid local combat craft, much less a Seeker.

* * *

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe fidgeted near Ironhide and Jolt, taking in the battlefield that San Francisco had become. They didn't want to hold back, not with the Seekers and Aerials on both sides already in play, but with Prowl on scene there was no rushing in.

::Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, Jolt,:: the orders began to come in from the nearly emotionless mech. ::Free range. Go.::

Of course there were more than just Seekers for the 'Cons. A few of them had landed to fight the ground bots to their advantage, and there were plenty of ground mechs for them to use short range on. As soon as they were given the signal from Prowl, Sunstreaker sped off in vehicle mode, cleanly dodging half of a dismantled car that had been thrown in his direction from a nearby battle. One of their own was struggling, but thankfully for him the golden warrior was in a destructive mood.

Mid-swerve, the golden Lamborghini transformed, blades swinging in two graceful arches. The grey and red warrior's optics stared in disbelief as those arches hit the 'Con directly beneath the chassis, causing sparks to fly from contact. The assaulting Decepticon roared, drawing assault missile weapons out of subspace, but Sunstreaker had him on the ground by then. "Finish him," the golden mech snapped at Windcharger while the surprised warrior gathered himself and rejoined the battle.

Sunstreaker had his optics to the darkened sky, where the Aerialbots, Shimmerfire and Tread Bolt were having their fair share of wins and losses. He bellowed in Cybertronian when part of the fight came closer to the ground, just only slightly out of reach.

~Climb you,~ Sideswipe's all-too cheery mind crashed against his across their bond. ~'Bolt's trying to lead them to us.~

A smirk was evident on Sunstreaker's mouth plates, his scans taking in the statistics of the nearby Seekers. ~Oh, you know it.~ His excitement was open to Sideswipe between them. ~Who said you needed to have afterburners to kick some sky tail?~

~Not me,~ Sideswipe laughed from well up one of the skyscrapers. ~I think Shimmer's trying to get killed though. Crazy Seeker.~ He passed along what he could see; the young femme doing more flybys to the Decepticon Command Trine members than actual fighting.

~Crazier is they aren't shooting back much,~ Sunstreaker pointed out as he found a suitable building to climb.

~Yeah, but we already knew _they_ were out of their minds,~ Sideswipe snickered before launching himself onto the back of Ramjet as Skydive led him by.

Sunstreaker joined his brother in laughing, climbing higher than Sideswipe had with what his optics were set on. ~You gotta hand it to the humans. These buildings they tried to build to the sky are pretty slagging convenient.~ His scanners picked up Silverbolt's energy signature immediately, and the golden warrior launched himself on top of Thundercracker just as the leader of the Aerialbots led him by.

"Slagger!" the blue jet howled in rage and immediately inverted in an effort to dislodge his blade-wielding passenger.

~They never appreciate our judo, Sides,~ Sunstreaker chided with amusement, digging a blade halfway into the jet's metal shell in order to keep himself from falling off too quickly, especially when Thundercracker spun. "You won't get rid of me that easily, you smelting 'Con!"

~That's the point, isn't it?~ Sideswipe crowed as he leapt from Ramjet's plummeting frame to skewer a ground-based Con cleanly through the car's spark chamber, flipping to burn the rest of his extra momentum before skating off to find another Con to slice up.

Suddenly Shimmerfire was along side Thundercracker, matching him move for move even as she kept her topside at a perfect right angle to his wing, but she made no effort to crash or attack him.

Sunstreaker dug his second blade close to the protective glass on Thundercracker's chest plates. His optics spurred when they caught sight of Shimmerfire, a low rumble barely audible with the screams from the jets.

"What is with you, you crazy femme?" Thundercracker demanded as he struggled to shake both of them.

"What does it look like?" she snapped back, making a full loop over and under him before stopping in her original position. "You are Command Trine."

"'Fire, haul your wingspan somewhere else," Sunstreaker snarled, once catching wind of her instinctive intentions. He'd gotten enough information through Sideswipe to know what she was up to.

"It looks like you're trying to die by Autobot," Thundercracker grunted before veering sharply into the side of a building to scrape Sunstreaker off regardless of the damage the blades would do coming out.

Suddenly Starscream was there, Tread Bolt right on his tail, as they flashed past her position.

Sunstreaker caught that there was a transmission, but not what the Seeker-coded content was before Shimmerfire darted after the Air Commander and almost straight up into the upper atmosphere. He held onto Thundercracker for as long as he could, until his blades could no longer keep lodged, but as he fell several hundred feet, he at least had the satisfaction of knowing he'd made damage beyond what self repair could fix.

He caught himself before he foolishly hit the ground, growling in irritation now that he knew it was going to take some serious buffing to get out the scratches on his paint job. ~Shimmerfire is going after Screamer and Tread Bolt. I don't know what I heard, but it didn't sound good.~

~I'm sure,~ Sideswipe agreed, the connection dimming momentarily as he took a hard hit from something, then flared back to normal when he struck back. ~Prowl's having a fit if those sensor-wings and Jazz are any indication.~

Sunstreaker growled lightly; though he couldn't see the damage his brother endured, he could practically feel it. ~See if you can help them out. I'm going back up and try to find out what's going on with those damn Seekers.~

Halfway through his speech, the golden warrior had started climbing, using his blades as leverage to gain height. The humans could care about the damage to their city _after_ they saved their fleshbag hides.

~Headed that way,~ Sideswipe responded before folding into alt mode and racing for the hall hill that Prowl had staked out for himself and the silver mech that didn't stray far from his side.

Now he just had to get his blades into a Seeker, and that meant getting an Aerial to bring him one if they weren't stupid enough to come down on their own.

::Shimmerfire,:: Sunstreaker barked in a demanding tone, his optics scanning for the presence of the three Seekers he was looking for once he had reached the roof of the building he had been climbing, ::You sure as the Pit had better not be doing what I think you're doing.::

He caught sight of Air Raid coming towards his location after blasting a 'Con straight through the windows of a nearby skyscraper. After a brief transmission, the Aerialbot lowered and Sunstreaker sheathed his blades so that his servos could grab a hold of the bot's landing wheels without harming him.

::Hold on tight!:: Air Raid chimed, veering left and rising.

::I have a right to the best sire,:: Shimmerfire snapped back.

::Not when it's a 'Con,:: Prowl damn near snarled across the moderately scrambled channel.

::He's out of the fight,:: she chimed back, though her tone was much less arrogant with the TIC. ::Be happy with that. Little ones by the Air Commander ... we'd command the skies again.::

Air Raid continued to ascend the skies, leaving Sunstreaker far out of reach from anything solid to land cleanly on. His grip was just hard enough not to cause any damage to the Aerialbot's landing gears. ::You're out of your Primus-forsaken processor,:: the golden mech growled audibly. ::I don't care if it's Screamer or Megatron himself, it's still a slagging _'Con_.::

::Megatron is not a _Seeker_,:: she shot back as the crazy three-way acrobatic dance came into view. ::He's not worthy of me.::

::_Still a 'Con!_ I swear to Primus, 'Fire, if you pull this off, you'll find yourself permanently on my bad side.::

That was a place many were on, sadly enough. Sunstreaker didn't have the patience or personality to "click" with many other mechs, and especially not with organics. Air Raid ignited his afterburners, bringing them closer to the rear of the three Seekers, and Sunstreaker was suddenly swinging himself back and forth as if to prepare a launch when they were close enough.

::Sunstreaker, you just gotta wai-:: Air Raid tried.

::Slag it, flybot. I'm working here.::

He waited nanokliks before seizing the right opportunity, one that clashed a pede against Screamer's nose - much to the golden mech's amusement - but brought him to land directly on top of Shimmerfire.

::Hay!:: she squeaked, too startled to actually react at first.

::Thank you,:: Tread Bolt sent privately as he opened fire on Starscream again.

Before Sunstreaker could properly respond to either comment, Shimmerfire had dropped her airspeed dramatically and tipped her nose up just slightly to help shield Sunstreaker from the buffeting of the winds as they descended as quickly as she dared.

Under his fingers, chassis and sensitive pedes, he could feel her shiver slightly and the insanely fast beat of her spark and fuel pumps.

Sunstreaker clung to her as hard as he could without provoking any kind of damage, though her wide neck had nothing very stable for him to grab ahold of, and he sure as hell wasn't going to stab her like he had with Thundercracker. Yearning for Screamer or not, she was still an Autobot and she wasn't trying to dislodge him.

::All right, you glitched femme, are you going to focus on the _fight_, or am I going to have to babysit you like you're a youngling?:: he asked heavily, craning his neck cables just enough to catch sight of Air Raid joining Tread Bolt in his assault against the trine leader.

::He... he's the Winglord.:: Her voice was very small and very, very frightened. ::I _can't_ fight him. It won't let me.::

"Tch," the golden frontliner managed clip his mouth plates together to make a noise of disagreement.

::You don't have to fight _him_,:: he offered suggestively, smirking, ::Go take advantage of some of those ground 'Cons or the Seekers that aren't _worthy_ of you.:: Yes, he did steal a bit of her own phrase, but it was all in support of his cause.

::Right, long as _he_ doesn't get close again,:: she sounded honestly relieved at the idea. ::Do you jump, or do I set you down?:: she asked as she dropped below the city's skyline.

::Shimmerfire!:: Prowl's bellow came very close to freezing her mid-air. ::Drop Sunstreaker off and get back to base. NOW.::

::Y-yes, sir.:: She shivered again and continued to drop lower, towards the heart of the battle and the silver form of Sideswipe making blitz attacks left and right.

Sunstreaker snorted, all too used to Prowl's icy voice even over comm link. ::Don't worry, just tell him what's going on with you,:: Sunstreaker urged the frightened Seeker, giving her wing a pat before flinging himself from her top and landing in a front roll to ease the fall.

It was a good thing he landed when he did, for he was just in time to slice the servo clean off a 'Con's torso before it nearly surged a cannon blast directly at his brother's head. ~Watch it, Silver. Getting slow?~ he lightly teased, absently aware of Shimmerfire's rapid retreat.

~You finally done rescuing the kid?~ Sideswipe shot back as they fell easily into a soundless rhythm of destruction that soothed both their split spark in a way Sideswipe didn't care to contemplate too much.

~What, were you jealous?~ Sunstreaker mused, amusement and thrill for the battle setting up his half of their bond. He knocked the army green Decepticon to the ground and ground his pede into its facial plates, optics pinpointing a circling aerial 'Con that was far too small to be a Seeker.

Even as he tracked it, a heavy Cybertronian riffle went off in the distance and the small Con plummeted with screeching protests of pain.

~You know, he'd make a Pit-spawn of a warrior if he could just get into the fight.~ Sideswipe ignored the comment.

~Let him do what he wants,~ Sunstreaker huffed, skidding behind his brother and surprising the 'Con he was fighting by appearing over the silver mech's head in a leap that gave his blades momentum to shove them as deep as they possibly could go into the enemy mech's chassis.

The shock _that_ created bought Sideswipe enough time to skate around them and drive one of his blades through the 'Con's spark chamber. As the 'Con shut down, Sideswipe's optics went wide. ~Oh frag,~ he muttered across their bond with the image of Prime and Megatron's battle headed right for them.

::Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, head east. Avoid Megatron,:: Prowl's voice told them calmly.

Where Sideswipe's optics widened, Sunstreaker's narrowed dangerously. ~Come on,~ he insisted, kicking the off-lined mech's head with a pede as he shifted into his alternate mode and revved into full speed around countless debris, his brother right on his bumper.

~Target ahead,~ Sideswipe growled and revved his engine. ~Starscream.~

The noise that Sunstreaker's blaring engine made sounded more like a growl of defiance than anything a normal machine could make. ~Coward,~ he hissed, his scanners picking up a makeshift ramp built out of steel sheets from a nearby destroyed construction site.

The sun warrior's gas petal hit the floor, gaining him enough speed to launch into the air. He timed it so that he transformed just before he barreled into the Seeker, just in time to divert the missile away from their Prime as it launched.

The Seeker screeched as he was flung back by the first impact, then spun around and into the ground from the impact of Sideswipe's blades into his right wing.

Sunstreaker hit the ground harder than he had when he jumped from Shimmerfire's back, his suspension hydraulics taking most of the strain. "Slagging, no good, glitching 'Con," the golden warrior spat, unsheathing his blades with haste as he approached the fallen jet whose focus was solidly on dislodging Sideswipe from his wing.

The silver warrior was having none of it, using his free blade to fend off attacks.

~Distract him,~ Sideswipe's voice was as close to panic as he got. ~I'm stuck on something in this glitch-wing.~

The echoing sound of Sideswipe's voice in his processor made him close on Starscream faster, slamming a blade cruelly into the Seeker's other wing and hopping up to straddle the struggling 'Con. "Stop moving, coward!" Sunstreaker barked, gritting his denta while he swung his blades relentlessly for the sake of distracting.

"And let you psychopathic grounders skewer my spark?" Starscream screeched as he unloaded an internal gun on the golden twin.

Sunstreaker grunted, falling sideways off Starscream's girth, sporting bullet holes and oozing energon down his right arm and along his right side. ~Sideswipe, _get loose_,~ he snarled desperately, sticking Starscream with his good arm's blade as he traveled along the Seeker to get to his brother on the other side.

There was a flurry of movement and snarls, and suddenly Sunstreaker was watching Starscream shoot skyward with his brother still attached to one wing.

Really, all Sunstreaker had been hoping for was to help yank his brother's arm free and maybe get in a few more blows before the coward took off, but it all happened so fast that he initially had no time to think.

And when it hit him that Screamer was taking off _with_ Sideswipe still stuck, there was a mixture of nearly painful static on the Autobot comm link, followed by an audibly enraged and panicked scream in Cybertronian. ::**SIDESWIPE!**::

If possible, his panic only went higher when he saw the silver form fall from far too high, minus one set of blades.

~Oh, this is gonna hurt,~ Sideswipe told him calmly and blocked off their bond from sensation, protecting his twin from the processor-rattling impact he was expecting in three more nanokliks.

In a pathetic attempt to catch his falling brother, Sunstreaker hit his alternate form faster than he'd ever done in his entire existence, speeding towards where his internal processor expected Sideswipe to land, which only resulted in the golden mech watching in horror as his other half hit the ground mere nanokliks before he could reach him.

"Ohhh," Sideswipe groaned, his internal beacon already summoning Ratchet, who Prowl had dispatched to his location before he'd even hit.

When Sunstreaker pulled up next to him, it took more difficulty to transform back, as his wounds were still giving him trouble. His right arm blade wouldn't retract when his processor gave the command to do so, but he knelt next to his twin anyway, his good servo hesitantly reaching out to touch Sideswipe's helm.

~Hang on,~ Sunstreaker nudged his brother's consciousness with a soothing wave. ~Ratchet's coming.~

~I know,~ he whispered back, his optics dimming quickly. ~I'll be fine, bro. Hurts like the pit, but our spark's fine.~

Sunstreaker had wanted to retaliate with some kind of defensive argument against that, but he held it back, because he could feel otherwise in his spark. ~You glitch head,~ he sighed. ~Don't scare me like that.~

~Better than letting him take my arm off at ten thousand feet,~ Sideswipe countered, but the effect was ruined by the way his engine growled in pain with stripped and shattered gears.

"Back off, Sunstreaker," Ratchet ordered as he stormed up, already in base mode with his field kit out.

Sunstreaker had a hard time obeying Ratchet's command, not because he didn't want the medic to make the necessary repairs that would keep his brother stable until they returned to base, but because of the attachment he needed to remind himself that Sideswipe was there with him. "Ratch-"

"Oh, good grief, Sunshine. Just stay out of my way," he snapped and knelt beside the still silver form, unlatching heavy chest armor to access the delicate internals that had suffered in the impact.

That didn't keep the golden warrior from glaring at the medic, huffing and shifting his position so that he could sit close to Sideswipe's head and stroke a sensitive audio receptor. His eyes, however much they wanted to watch Ratchet work, were scanning the area around them, daring a 'Con to near them and meet their doom.

~Hey Sides, remember when we were still in our second frames and I fell down that elevator shaft? I bet this felt worse than that. Sorry I didn't catch you.~

~'M glad you didn't,~ Sideswipe murmured with a wash of affection. ~I would have still been hurt, _and_ crushed you. Better this way.~

Sunstreaker audibly snorted, affirming that the twins were having an unspoken conversation. ~It's not _my_ fault I'm not nice and squishy for landing on like an organic. But I would have felt better if I had. Crushed or not.~

~But who would have guarded the Hatchet and me while he stabilized both of us?~ Sideswipe insisted on being logical, something that was entirely out of character.

Then Sunstreaker noticed that Ratchet's usual vitriol was far more than normal on a field repair, even by their standards.

~I'll be fine,~ Sideswipe insisted, trying to draw his brother's attention away from the medic's assessment of the situation.

Sunstreaker found himself distracted between Ratchet's vulgarity and the voice echoing inside his processor. In the end, he turned a halfhearted glare towards his brother.

~Logic isn't very useful if you follow it up with falsehoods,~ he chided, tempted to flick the same audio receptor he was caressing, but decided against it.

~You really think I don't know my own frame?~ Sideswipe snapped back. ~Look at your spark, bro. If mine's weakening so will yours. I'm damaged, not dying.~

~Shut up,~ Sunstreaker growled in warning. ~I can be worried if I want to, and slag you if you think I shouldn't be. I'd know exactly what condition you are in if you let me feel it too, but it's not like I need to with Ratchet spewing his vocal processor like that.~

~Just remember that when you're the one down and bitching at me for hovering,~ Sideswipe chuckled, then winced as a flash of agony broke through his walls on their bond before the silver frontliner went lax, his processors suddenly only half on line as sedatives and painkillers kicked in.

"Can you carry him to Prowl's location?" Ratchet focused his scanners on Sunstreaker's battered form.

Sunstreaker was too busy obviously fretting over his brother to bother worrying about himself, waving Ratchet off with his good arm as he stiffly moved to stand. ~You get some rest, Sides, I'll take care of you,~ he promised.

"I got 'im." Even with one arm rendered halfway useless, he could carry his brother that far, which actually wasn't far at all. It took a bit longer than it would have usually, but he managed to haul Sideswipe onto his good shoulder, holding onto his waist securely.

Ratchet nodded and hurried off with a blare of sirens to his next fallen Autobot, leaving the brothers to retreat on their own.

~That Pit-spawned screech-bot got my blades,~ Sideswipe mumbled in the half-coherency of sedation.

~You don't need them right now, smelting idiot,~ Sunstreaker responded, making sure to rev his pedes on any Decepticon trash off-lined on the ground. ~He'll give them back eventually, if you're good with recovery.~

Despite their situation, he couldn't help a small grin.

::Stage one evacs there.:: Prowl pointed Sunstreaker to where Fireflight, Slingshot, Cliffjumper, Steeljaw and Tracks were under the care of First Aid.

Sunstreaker looked grave as he carefully carried his brother towards their hurting comrades, placing him gently on the ground and rubbing his helm softly. The fact that he could still hear constant weapons fire both distant and close by made him stand straight. ~You'll be fine, Sides. I'm gonna head back out and see if I can't help the others.~

Aiding someone already fighting was probably the only thing he could do with only one functioning arm. He glanced towards Prowl, wondering if the mech would object to him going back into the battlefield.

The look on the tactician's faceplates when he glanced at Sunstreaker, no doubt fully aware of his likely intentions, chilled the frontliner. His calmly radioed ::Sector three. Assist Ironhide and Jolt against the remaining Constructicons,:: sent liquid nitrogen through his lines.

Sunstreaker resisted a physical shudder and huffed, nodding his acknowledgment and only giving his brother one final, longing glance. ~I'll be back,~ he promised. ~You _rest_. I'm serious.~

~Not much choice,~ the silver warrior mumbled across their bond, his awareness fading as the sedative finished its work of putting him under. ~You live, my Sunshine.~

~For you, I always will.~


	8. The Naturalists 3: A New Dawn

**Fandom**: Transformers Bayverse (POV'verse)  
**Author**: gatekat and femme4jack on LJ  
**Pairing**: Mirage/Hound/Alicia Rodriguez  
**Rating**: NC-17 for mech/mech/female  
**Codes**: Slash, Het, Sticky, Xeno (mech/human)  
**Summary**: Waking her first morning with a socket in her neck and in the quarters of the two giant mechanical beings that were her lovers, Alicia gets a few shocks and a look at something sacred.  
**Notes**: RP written in the Point of View fanverse community .livejournal .com/tf_matrix

Jazz is alive (you should be used to this by now) and bonded to Prowl.  
Do I really have to keep repeating that I don't own the boys? Femme4jack owns Alicia.

What I see what I think of Mirage and Hound in Bayverse.  
by *greenapplefreak on deviantART by *stripedwine on deviantART

_"text"_ - English  
"Spanish" translated to English  
**"Cybertronian Speech"** translated to English  
~Bond speak~ translated to English

Read on

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The Naturalists 03: A New Dawn

* * *

Alicia woke slowly, her body sore in an incredibly satisfied way, the bed under her comfortable, the sheets nicer than she ever remembered feeling against her skin before. She was alone there, and briefly she grieved the lack of her lovers to wake up against, even if she understood full well why they weren't willing. All it would take is one unconscious twitch and she would be human road kill.

"Alicia," Mirage's perfect Spanish accent washed over her warmly. "If you get up and eat, we would like to introduce you to some of those who live on base, mech and human, after Ratchet checks us out. It would be good for you to integrate into this society."

Alicia gave a slow feline stretch, the luxurious bedding slipping off her naked body as she smiled up at Mirage.

"Mmmm ... that sounds interesting. I haven't really spent much time on base, since my main goal was to get off of it as soon as possible."

She rose and found her clothes in a small closet, including some new items that had obviously been brought in for her. She was off duty, on leave until Ratchet gave her the go ahead to be back in the field, so she didn't feel bad about picking a casual red sundress, one of the new items that she didn't recognize. It fitted perfectly, of course, and the fabric felt as comfortable as the sheets.

"You have good taste," she said with a wink as she put it on along with some comfortable sandals from her own things. She brushed out her long black hair and put it up in an easy knot. By then the smell of cooking food reached her.

"You know, if you decide you don't like one of us, he's going to be insufferable for _millennia_," Hound chuckled softly from nearby as they watched Mirage put her breakfast together. "This manual labor idea really isn't his thing."

She laughed brightly, looking over at Hound. "Not _like_ one of you? Not going to happen. First of all, I find you both endlessly fascinating, you've already told me the sex only gets better, and you both are courting me! You have any idea what that does to a hopelessly old fashioned lady?"

She walked over to Mirage and laid an affectionate hand on his leg as Hound watched with open fondness.

"What did I do to deserve all this? It's making me blush like a little girl," she murmured.

Mirage looked down at her, a faint smile in place while he worked the last of the preparations. Suddenly Hound was there, kneeling so he could put a hand on his bonded's shoulder, rubbing gently in an openly supportive move that the spy seemed to need by the way he tipped his head to rest against Hound's wrist.

"You understand, even accept, what I am," he tried to explain something that had hit him so hard he hadn't dared to truly look at it yet.

She stroked him on his leg, leaning against him, "I may be saying too much ... because there is so much I _do not_ understand. I'm only beginning to understand who and what you are, Mirage, but the more I know, the more I want to know. As to accepting, as different as we are ... I think I understand something of the importance of one's culture, and what it is like to see it slowly being lost. If anyone does not ... accept you ... perhaps they have not taken enough time to understand that, of the blindness of their own culture might give them."

She took an appreciative whiff of what he was cooking. "Are those pasteles de queso?" she shook her head in wonder at his resourcefulness.

"Yes, they are," he reached with a free hand to stroke her back. "You will hear soon enough what most think of me, and why, whether you want to or not. I have no doubt the backlash will be quite vocal. It typically is."

"Well, it's a good thing I've never worried too much about what others think. We'll face it together, ok?" she included Hound in her statement.

"Thank you," Mirage inclined his head to her.

"It's how we've managed this far," Hound nodded in agreement and squeezed his bonded's shoulder again before they both stood. She sat down to eat yet another amazing meal, murmuring her appreciation along with a few comments about her sure to expand waistband.

"Not with the level of activity you have with us," Hound chuckled as he and Mirage made short work of tidying up their quarters. "You'll need the caloric intake to keep your strength up."

"Is that a promise?" she asked with a glint in her eyes. "It would be nice to no longer need any kind of exercise routine outside of my normal work life."

"Yes," Hound's deep rumble and Mirage's smooth vocals answered her in unison with not small about of desire.

"At least while one of us is around," Mirage added as she finished eating and took her dishes to the sink. "There will be times that one or both of us will not be available to be with you because of our missions. In peacetime we could arrange it otherwise, but the fact remains that while the Decepticons are still a threat, we will both continue to serve the Prime's army and will not always be able to choose our missions or schedules."

She frowned when she thought about the war, which if she understood correctly, had been almost endless for them. Washing up her dishes, she silently prayed a childhood prayer for peace that she had not thought of in some time with her distance from her upbringing. It couldn't hurt.

"So were you giving me calories for activities this morning? Or will Ratchet come screaming for us if we don't show up now?" Suddenly it didn't seem so important to her that she was already dressed and ready to go.

"He will most definitely come looking for us, and he will refuse to repair the damage he does when he finds us," Mirage almost kept a strait face, but Hound didn't even try.

"He has deadly aim with a wrench," Hound added as Mirage knelt to offer her his hand to pick her up.

Alicia shook her head with amusement. "I thought so. I'll have to show him the terror of a latina who is denied her just desserts," she said with a smirk, climbing up into his hand. "Have all the organics you're species has partnered with been this small?" she asked, feeling once again a bit like a kitten as they made their way out the doorway and down the hall.

"The majority have been between four and seven foot tall bipeds," Hound said. "I believe the largest were the Dragons of Trikell," his vocalizer seemed to almost contort to pronounce the race's name correctly after giving her a reasonable translation. "They had a very strong resemblance to the modern western fantasy dragon and ranged from twenty five feet long to over a hundred and fifty depending on gender and age. Very few agreed to be sockets, and of those it was only for mechs who remained on their homeworld. They did not find space travel agreeable at all. The larger ones were known to give rides to mechs who visited them."

"Dragons!" she said in surprise. "That would be amazing to see, and bigger than your kind, giving you rides! When I start to imagine the things you all have seen ... it makes me feel very small indeed."

"All size is relative," Hound smiled at her and reached over to stroke her back lightly. "You are the size and even more complex than a small planet to a single cell."

They passed other humans and mechs in the corridor, and she noticed like she had the previous day the coldness on many of their faces when they saw Mirage. Mostly it was the mechs, but too many humans seemed to dislike him already, despite having been on world for less than four days. She tried to give everyone whose optics she met a disarming smile, but wasn't sure its effect as they approached medbay.

_"There you are,"_ Ratchet looked up from where he was conferring with a red and white mech slightly smaller than he was. _"This is First Aid, a medic who recently arrived along with his gestalt."_

_"It's great to meet you, Alicia,"_ he gave her a genuine, warm smile before looking to Mirage and Hound, _"and wonderful to see both of you again."_ First Aid's whole demeanor gave the impression of a kind, patient, non judging temperament that was quite a contrast from the CMO's outward mask, though she had little doubt of Ratchet's innate kindness despite his gruff exterior. Still, she could not imagine First Aid throwing a wrench at anyone.

Alicia felt Mirage physically relax at First Aid's authentic and warm welcome. _"It's lovely to meet you as well, First Aid," she replied with a bright smile of her own._

Mirage sat her down, somewhat reluctantly she noted, on the large medbay berth, and complied when the CMO waved him and Hound to a pair of berths for First Aid to look over. Ratchet focused on her, his manner somewhat less severe than before. "Any soreness, unexplained sensations or discomfort?" he surprised her by asking in Spanish, though it was the more common Latin American variant from Mexico.

Alicia looked up at the large medic and responded in kind. "None at all. I find I'm a bit emotional from the intensity of it all, but I would say that is normal for me."

"The sexual interactions have been satisfying and non-painful?" he prompted as several scans washed over her and a connector cable came out of the tip of one finger. "May I plug in?"

"Ummm ... extremely satisfying, and not at all painful." She looked over at Hound and Mirage with discomfort, then looked back at Ratchet. "Do you have to?"

"No," he didn't need to follow her gaze to know she was looking at her lovers. "You should be able to answer most questions verbally. It is quicker and generally less embarrassing for me to download the information rather than have you verbalize it."

"I just feel like ... plugging in is something I'd rather save for them, unless it is absolutely necessary. I can deal with the embarrassment."

"Very well," Ratchet nodded and the cable disappeared into his finger. "Have they discussed claiming with you?"

Alicia took one more glance at her mechs, who were being very effectively occupied by First Aid's exam and questions, then faced Ratchet head on. "Yes. We discussed that it was something we should wait to do until we all feel certain about this and I feel emotionally ready for such a bond."

He nodded, his expression shifted to something a bit more pleased. "They've told you about the lifespan changes on offer, with or without being claimed?"

"They've explained that it can be ten to fifteen times normal for my species, and that fertility would last up until about the last two decades," she replied, "but I thought that was only if an organic was claimed, I may have misunderstood."

"No, life span increase and the promise of outstanding health is offered to all sockets who share regularly, whether they desire to be claimed or not, though a claimed socket's life span increase is on average about twice that of an unclaimed socket." Ratchet shot Mirage a death-glare that was met squarely before turning back to Alicia. "Besides the social acknowledgment, claiming makes basic changes in a socket's DNA leading to a greater energy resonance with his or her partners, and allows bond-like communication, even at great distances once the claim has been firmly established. That usually takes a vorn give or take, though communication over short distances can begin anywhere from three days to several weeks after the initial claim as long as it continues to be reinforced through sharing and regular penetration leading to the injection of the claiming nannites. I can mimic all of the health benefits and life span increase through some basic medical nannites tailored to each socket, but the energy resonance and the bond can only come with claiming, and both have an impact on expected lifetime. Physically, once the medical adjustments have been made, there is no reason a body could not continue to replace its cells without any aging indefinitely. However, the unique energy that makes up a sentient organic's life force, its soul if you would like, will only stay tied to a body for so long, no matter how healthy. There is a basic will to live that comes with the bond and the depth of sharing in a claim that increases that energy's connection to its physical body."

Alicia took in the information with a sense of awe. There was simply no reason for Hound and Mirage to have gone into this much depth since they had all agreed that claiming was well into the future. However, as fascinated as she was, she was disturbed once again by Ratchet's reaction to Mirage, as though he had deliberately deceived her, which he had not. Beside that, he was only one of two mechs who had been involved in the conversation. Even as he spoke, she recalled more precisely what had been explained to her. "Like I said, I may have misunderstood. There have been a lot of amazing things for me to take in the last 24 hours, and I have this very limited organic filing system to put my memories into. Come to think of it ... they did say that the symbiosis had always involved exchange of energy for longer lifespan, even before it took its current form."

"It did," Ratchet nodded slightly. "It was a practical matter to develop the technology quickly. The less often you have to replace a given organic, the less expensive the life sustaining process is. I have not done the alterations to you, or any other changes you have available on request. Autobots do believe in full consent beforehand." Another pointed look went Mirage's direction.

The words 'replace' and 'expensive' hit Alicia like a brick wall.

She gave a desperate look to her lovers before glancing back at Ratchet. "You make it sound like ... like some kind of commodity." The overwhelming feelings were suddenly starting to flood into her.

Ratchet vented a sigh and without warning Mirage was suddenly at her side, hand supporting her back, with Hound barely a pace behind him.

"Before we learned that the organics we needed to use to power our sparks were sentient ... have you seen The Matrix?" Ratchet kept a careful sensor set on her. "There's a reason it's universally hated by every Autobot. That is why we stress consent so much now."

Even in her shock, she felt Mirage's tremor as he stroked her back.

"It is one of the fundamental causes of the war," Mirage added quietly. "The Decepticons, backed by much of the population, didn't want to accept that our life sustaining energy was created by torturing people en mass."

Alicia felt the tears starting again. She hadn't cried this much in years, and felt ridiculous, but she couldn't help it. She leaned into Mirage's hand, and felt the comfort of Hound's finger on her neck as well.

"Just plug into me ... please ... I don't want to be alone in this."

Her head was full of horrible images ... of human beings being harvested by beings who looked like those she had shared such intimacy with. Before the thought got any further, Hound's presence was in her mind, projecting soothing feelings and comfort. Mirage was there too, through the bond with Hound, but even at the distance she could feel regret and guilt from him.

~It's long past,~ Hound reminded her. ~We don't do that anymore.~

~I know you don't. But it is what your enemy would do ... will do if they have the chance.~ She leaned in to their presence like a blanket, allowing them to sooth and comfort her. ~Suddenly this whole war has become much more personal.~

~We know,~ Hound murmured gently. ~More for you than us, even. We've fought this, protected organics, on a thousand worlds. Now it's _your_ world we're on, and for good or ill, humanity will never be the same.~

~I'm scared,~ she simply said. ~for myself, for my world, for humanity, for you and Mirage.~

Mirage's fingers moved along her back along with a pulse of thanks and support.

~You'll have to trust us to do our jobs, that we each give the other enough reason to return to survive what happens,~ Hound told her, pragmatic as ever. ~The odds of surviving to the end of the war is finally in our favor. Even Raj's.~

~How can I have known you both for so little time, and already feel like I'd be completely lost without you?~ She focused on that feeling, on her insatiable curiosity for, desire for, and love for these two who had, for some reason she still did not fully understand, chosen to court her.

~The same reason Raj and I knew we were meant for each other, even if it took a long time to figure out how we were going to make that work,~ Hound's mind contained amusement at the long vorns worth of memories of the way they'd danced around each other, trying to work out what was going on and what to do about it, if anything. ~Those with a similar energy frequency tend to make deep connections quickly, whether they are good or bad.~

Alicia said nothing, simply leaned into the link, letting them know she was ok ... even with the horror of what she now knew, with them she was more than ok.

She turned her attention to Ratchet again, making no move to be disconnected from Hound. He regarded her for a long moment, and huffed.

"Scans indicate you're doing all right and you need time to absorb this," the medic told her. "Go process it and come back tomorrow."

"I will ... there is a lot to process. Thank you, Ratchet." She looked at her mechs wondering which would want to be her ride, and then found herself distracted by the word 'ride' and wanting to be nowhere else but in their quarters, together, exploring that particular word together.

~I have become insatiable.~

~I hope that's not a complaint,~ Hound sent a wave of affection over the link before holding his hands out to her to climb on before lifting her to cradle against his chest. ~We would be delighted to indulge you in a distraction for a while.~

~No complaints here, though I'm not sure I'll ever be able to focus on work again, especially if one or both of you are around. But please, distract away.~ Through the link, Alicia was amused and aroused by several very distracting images Mirage was suggesting through Hound. ~We can go be social later, right?~

~Yes,~ the pair responded in unanimous agreement, though it was more to the 'take Alicia to their quarters now' than 'be social later' part of the question.

~We can be _very_ distracting when we wish to be,~ Mirage added in all his sultry glory. ~You will have times without us. We do have work to do as well, after all.~

~Then let's get distracted,~ she let out almost a girlish giggle, feeling young, vibrant, and insatiable. ~Before work leaves us with less time to do so.~

Feeling bold, she turned in Hound's hand and began stroking every cable she could find even before they hit their quarters. The corridor was empty. She had a passing thought about security cameras, and found that she simply did not care what anyone thought at that moment.

~Red enjoys the shows, even if he'd never admit to it,~ Hound shuddered at her touch and hurried his steps. ~Any fantasy we can play out for you today?~

~I want to feel more of what you do to one another. It is ... extremely addicting and beautiful and I can't get enough of it. Then I'd like both of you to tell me exactly what you would like me to do to the other, and I will.~

She continued giving Red a show, tracing his grill with her tongue.

The tremors her words caused in both her lovers were nearly as addictive. She could feel them discuss something, but between the speed of the Cybertronian and with the lack of trying to let her know, that was all she could tell.

"Hopefully you'll enjoy what we're going to show you," Mirage rumbled, his golden-white optics glowing brightly as he activated their door and stepped in. "It's what changed when we went from courting to bonded."

Even though he didn't say anything as he walked to the large berth in their bedroom, she could feel the intensity of excitement rolling off Hound in waves. Whatever it was, this was big.

Mirage grabbed a small side table and one of the pillows from their berth and made her a nest by the head of it.

"You can get closer after being claimed, when our systems will automatically recognize where you are and prevent us from hurting you, but for now you should stay a bit clear," Mirage sounded almost apologetic as Hound set her down on the large, relatively stiff pillow.

Their own excitement hit her as though she were standing in the surf of a vast ocean. She had no idea what she was about to see/feel through them, but she had no doubt that it would be very different, and very beautiful.

"I understand," she said as she made herself comfortable, still connected to Hound and feeling the intensity of his excitement. By the time she looked up at them again, Hound was lying on his back with one wrist - the one connected to her - cuffed to the bar at the head of the berth. His other arm was free though, and stroking Mirage's back as the smaller mech leaned over him to share the first of many long, glossa-dueling kisses that sent pure fire through their lines as several higher processor functions willingly shut down.

Alicia's eyes widened at the sight of Hound's hand, and then found herself riveted on the kisses, feeling the striving for domination and submission inherent in such a dance. She was intimately a part of it even from her safe distance.

She absentmindedly stroked the cable connecting her to Hound ... needing to somehow touch even if she couldn't join them.

A jolt of pleasure went through her body with each demanding, passionate kiss, causing her to twitch and moan as Hound gradually submitted in full to his lover, giving in to the moans and desire coursing through his frame with every lingering stroke of Mirage's hands.

Hound threw his head back with a ragged cry of need when Mirage left his mouth to nibble and lick on the strong cables of his neck. All the while they ground their hips together, stimulating their spikes and interface sensors still hidden behind groin plates.

Alicia closed her eyes for a moment, her own hand pulling up her dress to touch herself, feeling the power of their very masculine arousal and desire for one another and the fire of their sensor nets, stimulated just to the edge of overload by touch and kissing alone.

She slipped off her panties, and began to stroke her warm, wet cleft in rhythm to their movements.

"_Yes_!" Hound gasped out loud, his response to her as much as the mech currently working his way down the broad green frame with teasing touches and kisses. Another moan and he stiffened, the click of his interface cover loud in the room despite the passion. A second click and Mirage followed suit before settling between Hound's spread legs.

A hungry, raw, lust-filled look passed between them, the desire and need of their frames singing out to each other as much as to her. Hound nearly howled and arched completely off the berth when Mirage swallowed his spike in a single smooth motion.

"Dios mio!" she cried out as Hound's spike was sheathed by the elegant mech's mouth and she felt every tingling caress of glossa as though she were inside Hound's frame. She ground into her own hand, her fingers slipping inside herself as she rocked her clit into her palm, pressing hard, and then relenting, then pressing hard against herself again, gasping for breath. Her other slipped her dress off and her hand began playing with her rounded breast, teasing her own nipple as her eyes were riveted on the delectable scene in front of her.

With a wicked grin, she thought ~I love field observations. What will the mated aliens do next?~

She heard Mirage's low chuckle through his bond with Hound, who was nearly incoherent when his spike finally slipped free of Mirage's mouth. With only a slight shift, Mirage trailed his glossa around the slick opening to Hound's valve, teasing and tasting, daring to push his lover to the very edge before backing off when Hound began to arch and moan with an immanent overload.

"Not yet," the sleek blue and white mech purred, gently stroking Hound's thick legs until he'd calmed down.

"You're evil," Hound eventually managed to pant.

"You love it," Mirage's grin with absolutely wicked as he shifted to straddle his bonded's hips. "You love every moment of it," he purred as he reached between them to slid Hound's spike into his valve with a low, lingering moan of his own.

Alicia, becoming less and less aware of whose body she was in, was panting in need as she watched them both through her own eyes, but also watched Mirage relentless teasing through Hound's optics and even dimmer, the beauty of Hound's writhing form through Mirage's. As she felt Hound's spike slide into Mirage, she slid three fingers into herself with a moan, continuing to rock against her palm.

"*I* love every minute of it," she said, followed by a throaty moan as Mirage moved on Hound's spike. Slowly, building the charge that would eventually crackle across their frames in the intense pleasure, Mirage moved up and down, working in a near-instinctive tandem with his lover that hit every sensor node in Mirage's valve and Hound's spike.

With his free hand Hound reached down and began to stroke Mirage's spike, causing the elegant mech to shudder and moan as his back arched.

_So close._

She didn't know who said it, if anyone, or all of them.

Little flicks of energy were beginning to dance across Mirage's frame when he lowered himself to nearly lay on top of his bonded. They both trembled uncontrollably, their bodies lit up in a maelstrom of energy and pleasure as they keyed a transformation sequence rarely used.

She was shaking and trembling, moaning wantonly as she stroked herself, but felt so much more than her own self pleasuring. Her hand stilled for a moment as she sensed the change, something new about to happen, and she then _felt_ them open up to one another ... and to her ... with a whole different and deeper kind of intimacy.

She fell into their wave of sensations and crackling energy and desire, no longer at all aware of herself.

* * *

When she became aware of herself again, it was a distant sensation, not unlike waking up gradually from a deep, blissful sleep. It was warm, sated, wonderful.

Gradually she became aware that she could still feel Hound with her, but he wasn't thinking, or feeling or ... anything, really. Just a light sense of the scout's existence in her mind.

More than anything, she wanted to curl up beside or between where they lay, but remembering the dangers they had told her about, she contented herself with snuggling into his mind.

~That was so beautiful,~ she said as they came around a bit more.

~That is called a spark-merge,~ Hound told her, his mind still languid and sated on a level she hadn't felt before. ~It is the most intense intimacy known to our kind. There can be no secrets kept during it.~

~I'm not sure my mind was capable of comprehending what was happening. I became so lost in both of you, I totally lost any awareness of where one of you began and the other ended ... and I had no awareness of myself at all. It was ... amazing, and very alien. Thank you for sharing that with me.~

Feeling as though it were safe now, she moved from her nest on the side table to their berth, and climbed up onto Hound's chassis next to where Mirage lay, and gave both of their frames a soft kiss in turn. Each raised a hand to caress her gently in turn as they smiled with lazy contentment at her.

"That is a very accurate description of what happens," Mirage spoke softly, his optics dim as he relaxed in the haze of pleasure that still encompassed his entire chassis. "Two sparks become one; everything you know and have experienced is shown to the other; everything you are, from memory banks to the most fundamental code, is laid bare and full access granted. A part of your spark is left behind each time. There are stories of the oldest bonded couples who were no longer two separate sparks, but a single one of double strength inhabiting two frames," he murmured, still half-lost in the afterglow as he traced ancient glyphs across Hound's chassis. "I don't know if they're true, but I think it's possible for some couples."

"All that is why many never bond, even when they've found the one they wish to spend their existence with," Hound added. "It's a leap of faith and trust that many simply can't do."

"It took me a very long time, and a lot of encouragement from Jazz, to be able to," Mirage murmured quietly, his thoughts drifting back to that utterly terrifying and exhilarating night when he had finally done it after nearly a metacycle of aborted attempts. "I knew I wanted no one else, but to surrender everything I was, everything I knew? In the end it was the fact that he had, with so much more to loose, and still believed it was the right choice."

Hound got his wrist out of the cuff and brought it down to cup Alicia's body so his other hand could caress his bonded's back soothingly. Through the link with Hound, she could feel him send waves of adoration and how honored and awed he still felt that Mirage had made that leap.

~It was worth it,~ Mirage smiled up at Hound, sending his own waves of love and awe that the scout wanted _him_, even after learning everything about him. ~All the false starts and stress was well worth it. I've never regretted it.~

~Neither have I,~ Hound murmured soothingly, rubbing Mirage's back strut until the spy relaxed fully again.

"You have intimacy in a way that humans could only fantasize about, and which most would probably actually be terrified of if we were honest ... to be known that deeply and fully, every gift and every flaw ... And to have you share that with me ... even in the limited way I can feel and comprehend it... "

Alicia had no words for it, for the gift they were giving her, all so that she could have the pleasure of sharing her life energy with them. It was beyond amazing, it was sacred on a level she could barely grasp.

She was thoughtful for a moment. "Your sparks ... are they like what we would call our souls? What you have just shown me ... it is nothing less than sacred."

Mirage nodded slightly. "Yes, they are very similar to what you call a soul. They exist before our bodies, and they continue to exist within the Well of Allsparks when the body is no longer it's home." He reached out to stroke her face gently with one clawed finger. "Thank you for understanding what it means."

"Bonding is a sacred act for us," Hound agreed, his voice soft. "It's one of the few things not even the Cons disregard lightly."

Alicia nodded her understanding, and leaned into Mirage's touch. What she had just experienced felt so sacred she wasn't sure her mind was up for anything more at the moment, and the intimacy she had experienced via the socket left her feeling mentally sated, even if she was still physically keyed up. She wasn't certain _they_ were up for more. They felt so content, so peaceful.

"What would you like for me to do?" she finally asked, remembering what she had told them in the hall, and knowing they would know that simply being together in the bliss of a very old connection and a very new one was enough for now if they chose for it to be.

~You are right, we aren't really up for much right now,~ Hound murmured soothingly to her and flickered his EM field along with a gentle pulse along the connection to calm her body. ~We would very much like you to rest with us here for a while.~

"We'll bathe and take you to the common room later, all right?" Mirage added, sounding as honest in his willingness to indulge her body if she asked them to, even though he very much wanted to simply remain still and enjoy coming down in his own time.

"Rest now and a 'bath' later sounds splendid," she smiled at him and relaxed into their touch and the warm contentment from their minds.


	9. The Naturalists 4: A New Society

**Fandom**: Transformers Bayverse (POV'verse)  
**Author**: gatekat and femme4jack on LJ  
**Pairing**: Mirage/Hound/Alicia Rodriguez  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Codes**: Slash, Het, Xeno (mech/human), Violence  
**Summary**: Alicia's first day out and about as a socket introduces her to a host of characters, from friendly to just plain crazy to scary as hell.  
**Notes**: RP written in the Point of View (community .livejournal .com/tf_matrix)

Jazz is alive (you should be used to this by now) and bonded to Prowl.  
Do I really have to keep repeating that I don't own the boys? Femme4jack owns Alicia.

_"text"_ - English  
"Spanish" translated to English  
**"Cybertronian Speech"** translated to English  
~Bond speak~ translated to English

Read on

* * *

**Shades of Grey 9:******

The Naturalists 04: A New Society

* * *

Refreshed from resting with Mirage and Hound, as well as the more stimulating activities in the bath following, Alicia found herself being carried by Mirage toward the Rec Room in Hanger 10. She felt a twinge of anxiety preparing to meet others, but for the most part, her insatiable curiosity was blooming as her now satiated body sank into the elegant mech as he walked next to his relaxed, grinning mate.

_"Well look who finally showed himself,"_ a grating voice that carried the derisive sneer as effectively as the face it went with greeted them when Mirage stepped into the large hanger that had been outfitted with a variety of both mech-sized and human furniture. _"The noble ghost himself, and he's bought himself a pet."_

She felt Mirage tense minutely and intentionally shifted in his next step so he wasn't looking at the short, heavily built red mech that had spoken. It looked like he was simply carrying her to the human-sized kitchen/dining area where several other humans were sitting and talking or having a bite to eat. It didn't quite flow like his normal movements from her perspective. She took a deep breath to calm her anxiety, reminding herself that not coming to instant judgments had done her well so many times in life before. She debated giving an unaffected greeting, but decided to follow Mirage and Hound's lead ignoring the mech.

"That is Cliffjumper," Mirage told her in his smooth Spanish as he knelt to set her down. "He doesn't like anyone, but he particularly doesn't like me. Why don't you have something to eat with a few of the humans," he suggested, likely having noted her growling stomach. "Call or come over when you're ready to meet some of the others or go. We will hear you," he promised.

"Sounds good, Mirage. I'm anxious to meet more of your kind as well," she said, giving his clawed finger an affectionate squeeze before making her way to the human kitchen area, where she found that there was a large tureen of a meat stew, another one with vegetarian choice, crackers, some bread and various room-temperature stable spreads for the bread. She served herself and sat down at a table in the corner to simply watch for a time, observing both the small groups of humans, mostly military, and Autobots, whom she couldn't classify so easily yet.

All sorts of colors, sizes and body designs were conversing in their native language in small groups around various tables. One of the larger tables had been claimed by a group of five large mechs that looked like they had wings and a penchant for red, white and black. At another a pair of mechs, the silver even shorter than Cliffjumper and the white one as tall as Hound with some kind of mini-wing like kibble on his back, were just getting up to leave. She didn't miss the lingering way their hands touched or how they walked well within each other's personal space without touching. At the table Cliffjumper was at were two other mechs close to his size, one bright yellow and the other silver and red.

The door swooshed open and another pair walked in, chatting animatedly at each other in Cybertronian. The shorter one was white with red and green markings and panels on the side of his head that lit up when he spoke, while his companion was a true giant in white with red stripes and wide wings.

_"Welcome to the socket club,"_ one of the soldiers stood and walked to her table to greet her with an easy manner and natural command. _"I'm Major Lennox,"_ he offered her his hand. _"Hound and Mirage came in with you, right?"_ he glanced towards the two very different mechs that were settling down with glasses of glowing purple liquid at the table closest to the human area near the door.

Alicia was familiar with Major Lennox by name, though had not met him in person. She stood and shook his hand.

_"Alicia Rodriguez, from the eco teams. Socket club, hmmmm? That is an interesting way of putting it. And yes, I came in with Mirage and Hound,"_ she responded in English, and gesturing for him to sit with her if he wished. At the mention of their names, her hand unconsciously touched the socket at the back of her neck, as she often found herself doing, as though checking to make sure her connection with her lovers was still there. She blushed when she saw his eyes following her hand knowingly.

_"My partner's Ironhide,"_ he smiled and sat. _"I'm not sure I could keep up with two of them,"_ he chuckled. _"You've definitely got a good field partner in Hound. From his file, he's the Autobot equivalent of you, only well-armed."_

Alicia smiled and relaxed. It was good to be in the company of someone who had a clue what was going on between her and her lovely mechs.

_"I'm looking forward to doing some field work with him, once I'm allowed out of Ratchet's clutches. We do have a lot in common, and I have things in common with Mirage as well. I feel completely stunned and amazed to be ... connected with the to of them."_

_"It is an amazing experience,"_ he agreed with a fond smile before he considered her a little more seriously. _"What can you tell me about Mirage?"_ he asked quietly. _"The file they gave me, well, let's just say that it's about as complete as mine, and I spend most of my adult life doing black ops. I'm not even entirely sure what he's so good at, though I've got a solid guess. All I know for sure is the Ironhide really doesn't like the mech, he's not alone in that opinion and Jazz is ... *assertive* in defending him."_

Alicia blinked her eyes several times, unsure what to even say.

_"Major, I know very little of my ... his work. But I know that I have good instincts about people, and I have no doubt that I can trust him and Hound, of course. I don't fully understand the reactions he elicits from others of his kind, other than I'm guessing it has something to do with culture ... and past divisions on their own society."_

He nodded slowly in understanding and acceptance. _"I realize it's probably a touchy subject and you're new to them, but I'd really like a better idea of why a few too many mechs use 'traitor' quite freely to describe him. I know he can't be, not with the way Prime and Jazz trust him, but _something_ is going on with the mechs I trust my life and the lives of my team with."_

Alicia froze as if she had been stunned, then replied in an abrupt voice,_"I suggest you ask Prime then, or Jazz. Or ask Mirage himself. I've always found it best not to go behind other's backs, Major." She took a deep breath and calmed down. "I'm sorry. Have you ever had to do something ... on a mission ... that if others knew might cause them to label you that way? I don't know why there is so much division between Mirage and some of the others. But I know that I trust him."_

She found herself looking across the room, and was not surprised to see Mirage's bright golden-white optics on her. She gave him a weak smile and shook her head, trying to indicate that she was alright.

_"Yes, I have,"_ Lennox nodded. _"I am right now for that matter, in consorting with aliens. I'll ask him. Prime and Jazz are not being helpful on the subject."_ He glanced towards Mirage and Hound, who were both watching them. _"If they're anything like Ironhide, they're going to want tactile confirmation that you're really okay."_

Alicia smiled at the human base commander, feeling bad for her reaction. _"I'll go do that then. Some time ... those of us who are paired in this way should talk over a glass of wine."_

_"That is a good idea,"_ Lennox grinned at her. _"I'll see about it next time you're on base."_

She nodded and got up to take her dishes to the tub set out for that purpose, then made her way back toward Mirage and Hound, who were still looking at her, concerned.

"Well, that was interesting," she said softly in Spanish as Mirage leaned over to pick her up.

"I knew someone would ask you that question," he said apologetically as he stroked her side and Hound stroked her back. "I did not expect it so quickly, or from a human."

Alicia leaned in, needing connection. It was all so new, so fragile, and yet so very strong. "I admit it totally took me off guard. He wasn't malicious, just being a responsible commander. I ... I'm afraid my reaction was rather harsh, but it made me very angry. My feelings for both of you do not allow me to be at all objective or patient with others, I'm afraid. But I also realize there is so much I don't know about either of you. It feels instinctive to trust you, and my instincts have always been good."

"Thank you," Mirage said softly, a wealth of emotions from pain to gratitude in the simple words, even in her Spanish. "I have never fit in well in the army. If you wish to know, I would prefer in our quarters or at your camp."

Alicia put her hand on Mirage's finger as he stroked her.

"I want to know when you want to tell me, and not a second before. Whatever it is is yours to share, Mirage. I trust both of you. Though if people are going to ask me this a lot, it would be helpful to know what to say."

Hound rumbled slightly, the noise one of open displeasure, and kept his comments to the same dialect of Spanish as Mirage. "You're more likely to get comments than questions. Most have stopped sniping at me, but it'll be a while before they realize they're wasting their efforts on you."

Turning to Hound, she leaned once again into his strokes. "Well, then, you'll just have to lend me some strategies to deal with their stupidity. At least I know that such behaviors are not limited to my kind. It is actually slightly comforting."

"I will tell you tonight," Mirage promised. "The basics and a few specifics at least. My full story is a little long for verbal retelling. You said you'd like to meet some of the others?"

Alicia paused, thinking on Mirage's offer to continue to introduce her to others. She felt so drained by simply having met one person in the commons, yet she also did not want to let her emotions get the better of her.

"Thank you, Mirage. I don't know if I'm up to the verbal barbs right now. Will any of these be friendly?" she gestured at the mechs seated around the commons.

The pair glanced around. "A few," Mirage said. "Bumblebee, Bluestreak, Tread Bolt, Wheeljack and Skyfire are all reasonably friendly of those here. Prime, Jazz, Prowl, Perceptor, First Aid and Drift are as well, when you meet them."

He stood in a single graceful motion and offered his hand to her.

Alicia climbed up into the offered hand, feeling far more nervous than she had when she'd first met Hound and Mirage. But then again, that had been in her territory, where she felt most comfortable. Not on a military base, surrounded by technology and gigantic aliens that were absolutely mind boggling.

She was not one to back down from new situations. She took several deep breaths, secure in her trust of the two mechs that seemed to have been a part of her life for years rather than a couple days. Not to mention that she was fascinated by all of the aliens around her. Her desire to learn about their culture, language, history ... a whole new field of study that was as compelling as anything she had ever explored.

"Well, let's meet them. I need to get over my nerves."

Mirage nodded faintly and held her close to his chest where she could feel his warmth and the pulse of the spark she had given so much life to. He headed directly for the most unusual looking mech in the room. Translucent from pede-tip to audio horns and wingtip to wingtip, the dark colored flier perked up almost immediately when Mirage and Hound approached, even though his back was to them.

_"Greetings, Tread Bolt,"_ Mirage said somewhat formally .

The Seeker turned around with a warm smile for the noble and scout, his wings flicking and twitching. _"Good to see you again, Mirage, Hound,"_ Tread Bolt made a very noticeable twisting flick of his wings. _"You already found one?"_ he asked curiously, optics on Alicia.

_"Yes,"_ Mirage smiled slightly. _"This is Alicia Rodriguez."_

_"You always had a taste for pretty,"_ Tread Bolt gave him a teasing wink before focusing on her once more. _"I bet you're smart and well educated too."_

Alicia smiled at the unusual flyer. She smiled and said in a teasing voice, _"Are you saying that Hound and Mirage have a type? If so, I'm lucky that I fit."_

_"Oh they most certainly do,"_ Tread Bolt laughed, grinning at her and them. _"Hound like'm spirited, nature-loving and equal. Mirage like'm pretty and quiet, even if he usually gives in to Hound."_ He paused. _"Ah, you're with the Environmental Restoration Teams. That explains plenty."_

Given how many times she'd felt Mirage tense at more innocent comments, the fact that he didn't at the potential insult said volumes.

Alicia laughed at the description. _"We met in the wetlands on the other end of the atoll. I was quite literally covered in muck. It does explain a lot ... though I for one am glad Mirage gives in to Hound's tastes, because I find both of them amazing and fascinating."_ She looked at Mirage and grinned with mirth. _"I really was rather quiet before I met the two of you. I think you bring out my outgoing side, perhaps unfortunately for you,"_ she winked, feeling much more comfortable.

_"Oh?"_ Tread Bolt got a mischievous glint in his optics. _"Not to say they don't have their points, but if you want _fascinating_, you really should try out a few of the more unusual folks,"_ he leaned towards her with something between a teasing grin and a leer.

The nearly sub-voc rumble of Mirage's engine was an instant response, but he didn't otherwise object.

Alicia placed her hand on Mirage's chest in a calming gesture and felt his engine settle a bit. _"No thanks. I'm sure there are a lot of fascinating creatures out there, human, bot or otherwise. This one,"_ she pointed to herself, _"may not be claimed, but she is taken."_ She felt Mirage settle completely at her words, the low hum and vibration one of pleasure.

Tread Bolt grinned at them, his wings flicking slightly. _"Oh yeah, Hound does know how to pick'm,"_ he said with clear approval. _"It's been ages since anyone else could calm him that fast."_

Trying to lighten the mood, she asked, _"And what would be your type, Tread Bolt? I'm honestly completely fascinated by what would make beings so different from one another have such a strong attraction, aside from the simple fact that you need us for survival."_

"Sneaky, loves to fly with a sharp mind and doesn't mind extended solo missions with me," he answered easily, his wide wings and frame relaxed. _I don't find sockets often. I insist that any I claim is capable of working with me."_

_"He's another SpecOps mech,"_ Mirage added. _"Primarily recon and data analysis."_

_"Well, you are certainly in the right place. From what I hear, the majority of the teams that go on the joint missions are former special ops. I'm sure Major Lennox could set you up on a blind date if you asked him real nice."_

_"He probably could,"_ the Autobot Seeker considered the Major thoughtfully. _"There are certainly enough humans on this planet I should find someone in the next couple vorns. Might be faster than Jazz, given how much he has on his plate."_

_"I haven't met Jazz yet, though everyone speaks very highly of him."_ She had a thousand questions about that particular mech, considering what she had heard of him and Mission City through the base grapevine even in her short amount of time. But she would wait on those until she was alone with Mirage and Hound.

_"He's a very difficult mech not to like,"_ Hound chuckled. _"At least if he wants you to like him."_

_"He does have his detractors,"_ Mirage added. _"Most are just Cons, or long dead."_

_"I would think that there would be enough interested humans for any who are here or arrive,"_ Alicia said. _"We have our share of xenophobic idiots who are terrified of their own neighbors just because they speak a different language or practice a different religion, but on the whole, my experience has been that most humans are very open and curious. I'd actually be more concerned about word getting out too widely about what is going on. Some would react very fearfully, others would throw themselves at the chance and make a nuisance of themselves."_

_"That is part of the politics that Prime, Jazz and Prowl deal with, and occasionally Red Alert,"_ Tread Bolt made a face. _"Guy's a complete loon, but he's the best at his job anyone's ever seen."_

_"Red Alert? I've never heard of that particular mech, though it sounds as though I will. So he'll have to deal with the inevitable bizarre cult of alien-worshiping weirdo's who will be throwing themselves at all of you? Word will eventually get out about your presence here, as well as the symbiotic possibilities. I can predict there will be people who would gladly be a slave for the chance, as strange as that may sound. I'm honestly not sure whether to be extremely excited about watching my world react once the secrecy is lifted, or embarrassed on our behalf."_

The silence for several tables around them, the complete focus of many mechs very suddenly on her. Some disturbed, but most seemed very interested in the statement. Alicia was aware that her comment had suddenly gained her far more attention than she was at all comfortable with, and could feel the subtle tension in Mirage.

_"We only hope it will go better than how Cybertron took the news,"_ Mirage said quietly, his optics flicking towards Hound as he tensed slightly.

_"Yeah,"_ Tread Bolt shook off the effect. _"It's something we've seen a few times over the vorns."_

_"I just said something incredibly awkward, didn't I?"_ she murmured. _"This is why I spend most of my town outdoors and not in large crowds,"_ she laughed, unsure what else to do with being the sudden center of attention for all the wrong reasons.

_"Awkward, both historically and culturally,"_ Mirage nodded. _"The status, the level of rights organics have is the core reason for the war that destroyed Cybertron and may well have doomed our race to a slow extinction."_

_"Yeah,"_ Tread Bolt nodded, glaring at various mechs until they went back to their previous discussions. _"It doesn't help that even among Autobots, there's a lot of mechs who'd welcome not having to treat organics as equals. More of our forces came from the fact that it was torture that sustained us than actual sentient rights."_

_"Think about the cat you mentioned,"_ Hound spoke up, his voice low as well. _"Or the dolphins or elephants that are accepted to be very intelligent animals. You'd object to having to torture them en mass, but to give them equal rights? The two are a huge leap apart, especially going from less than objects to full equal rights between one orn and the next."_

"It's something Autobots try not to talk or think about much," Mirage murmured, shift to her Spanish again. "It's likely to cause a second war, a split within the Autobots."

Alicia, following her normal routine when confronted with difficult or uncomfortable topic, found herself stepping away from her emotional response and stepping into analysis. Speaking in Spanish, she murmured. "Humans are so accustomed to being the top of the food chain, so to speak. Knowing that some of your kind would view us as little more than the other animals on our planet will be difficult, to say the least. At the same time, many of my own kind will have a difficult time viewing you as equals, too, despite your obvious superiority in strength and intelligence. They will see you as amazing machines, but in their minds, that will not equal sentience. They will insist it is a facsimile of sentience that others, organic others, have programmed into you, because they have no other paradigm of thinking of intelligence and sentience. An interesting problem, isn't it? Many will view you as lesser because you are mechanoid, just as many of your kind will view us as lesser because we are organic."

"That is an accurate assessment of it," Mirage inclined his head fractionally. "Would you like to meet Bluestreak and Bumblebee, or go back to our quarters?"

"Well, I can't promise I won't naively stumble into more awkward topics. The joys of cross cultural communication when you don't have hardly any understanding of another's history and assumptions ... but why not. We are here, and I am truly intrigued enough to not fear embarrassment."

"All right," Mirage nodded and took her to another table.

Several mechs, two with small wing-like attachments on their backs, were chatting and playing some kind of game with marked squares of metal in their hands as well as marked sides up and marked sides down in various positions on the table. Both in the center and in front of each mech was a small pile of glowing chips of pink, purple, red and blue.

"Unlike Tread Bolt, the wings on ground-based mechs are called sensor-wings. They aren't any good for flight, but they can provide extra information on their surroundings."

They watched briefly until the larger of the two with the sensor-wings, colored in red, sky blue and white with a golden chevron on his forehead, grinned and slapped the plates he held down, saying something in Cybertronian to the others. A round of groans, rumbling engines and chatter in Cybertronian ensued before everyone tossed their plates down with varying degrees of disgust and the winner pulled the pile of glowing chips in the center towards him.

"Smokescreen just won," Mirage told her quietly, not actually breaking into the conversation. "The golden one is Sunstreaker, the silver mech next to him is his twin brother Sideswipe. Trailbreaker is the big black mech that Hound's chatting up. Groove is the white one, Streetwise is white with red; they're part of one of our specialized units, the Protectobots."

He tapped the other sensor-winged mech on the shoulder and the mostly gray mech with red sections and chevron looked up and smiled brightly.

_"Oh hi Mirage I didn't know you were in. Is Hound ... oh, there he is. Hi Hound,"_ he waved at the large green scout before turning to look at Mirage again. _"Anyway, welcome to Earth, you already find one?"_ He sounded very excited as he checked out Alicia. _"She's so pretty, may I hold her, please? I'll be really careful, honest. I'm really careful now, she won't get hurt at all. It is a she, right?"_

_"Bluestreak,"_ Mirage cut off the ramble with a bemused look. _"It's good to see you too. This is Alicia, and it's her choice. Hound found her, not me."_

_"Oh! Hello Alicia. I'm sorry, I didn't realize, Mirage was carrying you, he's almost never that touchy unless it's one he picked and they always freak a little when he's not asked first. Anyway, I'm Bluestreak, have you gotten to look around much? I don't remember seeing you before. Are you human? How long have you been with them? When _did_ you guys get in I didn't see the notice, how could I miss a notice? I'm always careful about that I don't want to miss anybody it's been so long since so many of us have been in one place. Did you know that '**Ultra Magnus**' is bringing '**Fortress Maximus**' with like thirty on board? And '**Kup's**' and his '**Wreckers**' coming with '**Metroplex**' and a bunch of others. I'm so excited, even if it'll be vorns before they all get here. Did you hear what Jazz did? Came back from the _dead_! Can you imagine it, going to the '**Well of All Sparks**' and seeing '**Primus**', '**Primus**'! And then coming _back_? He said he did it for Prowl but what's he saying to you guys?"_ He babbled on, the names of those still incoming untranslated from Cybertronian.

Alicia's grin kept spreading as she listened to the warm, almost child-like Autobot talk to her like he had known her for years.

_"Bluestreak,"_ Mirage stopped him again. _"No, she hasn't seen much. She hasn't been here long. Yes, she's human, and female. She's been with us for a local solar cycle and a half. We arrived three and a half solar cycles ago. I was not aware of either group, though I am not surprised. I only talked to Jazz in my debriefing, though I am aware that he was reported dead and he is not anymore."_ He held up a slender finger to keep Bluestreak quiet as he turned his attention to Alicia. "I'll show you the names he said if you would plug in," he offered a cable from his neck with the appropriate socket adapter.

_"It is very nice to meet you, too, Bluestreak,"_ she said when she could get a word in and turned toward Mirage. _"Thank you, Mirage,"_ she took the offered cable and plugged it in to her port.

~I can see where he gets his name. He is very endearing,~ she said warmly.

~Yes, it can be,~ he chuckled, adding without words that it could also get very tiring after a few hours. ~He's one of our youngest members. The incessant talking is a coping mechanism. Apparently he wasn't all that talkative before he saw his city razed and was the only survivor within city limits. It was a very bad day.~

Alicia sent a wave of affection toward Mirage, thankful for his explanation and offer to connect with her. It felt so natural to her, even after her short time with the two mechs, and she felt a strange emptiness when they were not connected.

~We all have our unique ways of coping. I imagine the length of your lifespans leaves you far more horrors to cope with. Now about the mechs he has mentioned...~

~'**Ultra Magnus**' is the fourth in command and only of Prime's oldest friends,~ he explained, including mental images and the full depth of what each name meant. ~He is a formable warrior and exceptional military commander. '**Kup**' is the oldest warrior still alive that I know of. He makes Ironhide '**Ironhide**' look like a youngling. His '**Wreckers**' are a specialized unit not dissimilar to Special Forces, but far more elite. Sent on suicide missions every time, most usually come back, mission accomplished. If you don't ask SpeciOps mechs like Jazz and myself what we do on missions because it's rarely acceptable, you don't ask them because you'll purge your tanks on the gory details and their enjoyment of it. '**Fortress Maximus**' and '**Metroplex**' are both city-mechs '**city-mechs**'. Their alt mod, which they spend almost all their time in, is where we live. '**Primus**' is Primus. The '**Well of All Sparks**' is the Well of All Sparks, our version of ... heaven, I believe would be the equivalent. It is where our sparks go when they extinguish.~

The information came to Alicia nearly instantly, only requiring the time it took her mind to assimilate it.

~A far more efficient way to communicate. Thank you, Mirage. I had never imagined. The idea of city-mechs is mind boggling to me, and I'm going to get to see them. Amazing. I want to know more about your beliefs about Primus and the afterlife as well, whether it is simply mythology to you, or something you know empirically. I'm a student of earth spirituality and mythology, as a hobby more than anything.~

~We know much as fact, because of our sparks, the Primes and Matrix of Leadership,~ Mirage told her. ~There is much we do not know, because the few who have returned have never spoken of it and when we leave to inhabit a frame we leave knowledge of it behind.~

Alicia smiled at Bluestreak. _"It is very exciting. I can't wait to meet mechs you are talking about."_

_"Very exciting,"_ he agreed eagerly. _"I've never met so many of them so that's going to be incredibly exciting but so's going to have so many mechs and the only two surviving Autobot '**city-mechs**' will be here. It's been so long since I've been in a real living city. It feels safe like nothing else."_

Mirage automatically translated for her, but what held her attention was the silent, wordless warning to be prepared to move to Hound's hands _quickly_ when the silver and gold mechs stood and rolled towards them on feet that were wheels.

Alicia tried to keep a calm expression on her face, feeling the tension build in Mirage as the two mechs came toward them. She wasn't sure what to expect, but from Mirage's warning, it couldn't be good. However, it was no reason not to continue to be warm to the friendly Bluestreak.

_"It sounds like nothing I could ever have imagined, Bluestreak. I have always had to go outdoors to feel like I am living in the middle of what is alive. I can only imagine what it is like to be living within another living, sentient being. I look forward to the wonder. If you would ever like for me to show you some of the natural wonders on the island, please let me know."_

_"Oh! I'd love that,"_ Bluestreak's optics glowed brighter and his sensor-wings began to flutter in excitement. _"We've got so much downtime these days that I hardly know what to do with myself."_

**"How about shutting up,"** the golden mech, Sunstreaker, growled, though his optics never left Alicia. _"Just what did he promise you?"_ he sneered.

Alicia frowned at the mech's aggressive, rude manner. Looking straight at the golden mech, she replied evenly and politely. _"I don't believe I know your name. Mine is Alicia Rodriguez. I'm certain you didn't intend for our introduction to be so abrupt, did you? I for one prefer to get to know people before I start asking them highly personal or confrontational questions."_

She heard snickers from several mechs close enough to hear, and felt a combination of shock, concern and great amusement bubble up from Mirage.

_"The Dandelion of Doom here is Sunstreaker,"_ the silver one didn't even try to hide his amusement. _"I'm Sideswipe. He has a hard time believing anyone would voluntarily stay with _-a small burst of static-_ him."_

Alicia turned toward Sideswipe and smiled. _"Nice to meet you, Sideswipe, and thank you for properly introducing Sunstreaker,"_ she nodded at the golden mech. _"I'm not quite sure I caught everything you said, but my decision to be with Mirage and Hound is quite voluntary, though I'll admit they were very convincing, and I'm not an easy person to convince when it comes to new technology."_

She turned and regarded the golden mech with a steady smile. _"Dandelion of Doom? Does he call you that all the time, or just when you are meeting a human for the first time?"_

What happened next was a complete blur from her perspective, only made clear because Mirage, then Hound, could follow all the action with relative ease and fed it to her.

Sunstreaker's optics lit up, flashing brightly and wickedly large triangular blades snapped out from his wrists to reach nearly to the floor.

Sideswipe reached out to him, his optics going wide as Sunstreaker reached for her, blades out.

Mirage twisted and darted back, towards Hound, as every mech within two tables of them scrambled to clear the area, most of them angling towards the human section and taking a defensive position to keep the impending violence from injuring anyone there.

She was pushed towards Mirage's shoulder, the cable detached, Hound gathered her up and connected a cable and backed away even as he wordlessly assured her it would be okay. That Mirage could take Sunstreaker easily, could usually take them both, and officers were on the way to break it up.

The focus locked on Mirage, as Hound was the one who could follow the action.

She couldn't tell when they came out, but Mirage had a slender long sword with a filigree hand guard in one hand and a matching dagger in the other as he squared off against the two frontliners.

Alicia watched wide-eyed, in shock. She never had expected to be the focus of an attack. While she had found the golden mech incredibly rude, she had felt secure that the Autobots meant the humans well. Now Mirage was in danger because she had antagonized the obviously dangerous and unstable Sunstreaker.

~I'm so sorry, Hound. I had no idea this kind of reaction would be provoked. I don't respond well to rudeness ... I should have ignored it or shrugged it off!~

Alicia felt herself coming completely apart, even as she watched Mirage in appreciation. He was obviously very skilled, and he was protecting her. But it didn't change the fact that Mirage was in the situation because she didn't keep her mouth shut.

~Relax. Sunstreaker was looking for a fight. If you didn't set him off, Raj would have, or he'd have just snapped on his own. I'm surprised he moved on you though,~ he admitted, watching as Mirage blocked, parried and dodged the heavier blades of the much larger, heavier mech. ~Even he shouldn't be able to override the socket protection protocols like that.~

Alicia not only heard Hound's assurance, but felt a wave of calm, and wrapped herself up in it, allowing herself to simply enjoy watching Mirage's obvious skill and grace.

~He is amazing! They're so much larger and two of them and have nothing on him in close combat.~

~Mirage learned from two of the best,~ Hound didn't conceal his pride at his bonded's accomplishment. ~Though somehow Sunstreaker never grasped the point when Raj began to defeat him regularly. When they met, Raj would already be down and badly damaged by this point. Sideswipe picked it up, but then he'll never leave his twin in a fight.~

**"STAND DOWN!"** Prime's voice rattled the entire room, his tone as furious as anyone had heard him in a very long time. He strode in, his presence making even those not involved cringe and hunker down a bit to avoid his gaze. **"Sunstreaker. To the brig. Sideswipe, see that he gets there and stays."**

He paused to take in rest of the scene, including Mirage's defensive stance that slowly relaxed as the Twins left.

Alicia sunk into Hound's hands, both relieved that it was over but also shrinking from the overwhelming presence of Optimus Prime, angry at an altercation that she had been in some way involved in, even if unintentionally.

~I really did not want my first meeting with Optimus Prime to be under these circumstances. Is he always this frightening and angry?~

~He can be much worse,~ Hound told her, but there was no missing that while he trusted his Prime with his spark, he was afraid of him to a point as well. ~His weapons are all stowed.~

Mirage stood upright, sheathed his long sword, subspaced the dagger, and went down on one knee with a bowed head to his Prime without so much as a sound.

Prime's optics landed on him, then continued around the room before stilling again. **"Bluestreak, what happened?"**

**"Umm, Prime, sir, Mirage was introducing **Alicia** and we were chatting when Sunstreaker and Sideswipe stood and insulted her but she didn't cower, she told him he was being rude and Sunstreaker sort of ... umm..."**

**"He snapped, sir,"** Smokescreen supplied quietly.

**"Yeah, snapped, that's the word I was looking for. He dropped his blades and tried to skewer **Alicia**! Mirage got her out of the way and handed her to Hound and we all cleared the area cause only Mirage, Prowl or Jazz can take him and they weren't here but Mirage was and he made sure that she wasn't injured ... I don't think she was injured..."** he looked around for her frantically.

Hound translated for Alicia as quickly as Bluestreak spoke. When optics turned her way, she was tempted to sink even lower into Hound's hands, but instead sat up bravely.

_"I'm fine, Blue, thanks to Mirage and Hound. I'm afraid that I didn't realize how easily provoked the mech was, sir,"_ she said, looking bravely toward Optimus. _"The fault is partly my own. I could have held my peace about his rudeness."_

_"Thank you for your honesty,"_ Prime's voice gentled considerably as he spoke to her, but his optics soon went to Smokescreen. **"How much was he provoked?"**

**"Just told he was rude sir,"** the tri-colored sensor-winged mech responded. **"I'm sure Red Alert already has the footage for review already, but I saw a mech out to pick a fight with Mirage and went _way_ out of bounds in it."**

**"Yeah, the Twins were spoiling for a fight,"** Streetwise added. **"They got one too. Mirage would have put them both down if you'd been half a breem longer."**

Prime nodded. **"Stand up, Mirage,"** he turned to look at the noble, who stood with all the grace of his sparkright. **"Prowl will review the recording. If he deems any discipline is necessary, he will contact you."**

**"Yes, Lord Prime,"** Mirage bowed to him.

**"I believe you and Hound would do well to retire; your socket is distressed,"** Prime added before turning to leave.

Alicia breathed a sigh of relief and practically collapsed into Hound's tender hold, relieved beyond measure as he held her close to his spark so she could feel its vibrations.

~Well ... I guess I made a bit of an impression, and now I'm ready to hide in my tent for a couple of weeks,~ she commented with a mental laugh. ~Does Sunstreaker always pick fights with Mirage? The others really came to his defense, I noticed.~

~Sunny picks fights with nearly everyone,~ Hound sounded tired as Mirage joined them to stroke Alicia's back for a moment. ~He's a sparked warrior. They can't function in normal society at best, and he's psycho even by their standards. Coming to Raj's defense has more to do with not wanting to be called on it when Prowl does review that recording than actually caring about what happened. When they think they can get away with it, they lie. It's one of the reasons that Red Alert gets as many cameras as he does. Prime, Prowl and Jazz all protect top assets.~

~I'm sorry to hear that,~ she sent a wave of affection and understanding through their connection. ~ I was beginning to hope that things weren't as bad as they might seem. At least Blue was very descent, and Tread Bolt, too.~

~They both are,~ Hound agreed. ~Bluestreak is friendly to everything that isn't a Con, and Tread Bolt's SpecOps. They tend to protect each other, because no one else will.~

Alicia looked up at Mirage, admiring again his utter grace. "You were amazing. I didn't want a fight, but watching you was like watching the finest dance. I'm sorry I provoked him ... I know he would have likely picked a fight anyhow, but I still feel responsible."

"Thank you," Mirage inclined his head and smiled faintly. "You may enjoy watching my practice as well. Are you ready to go to our quarters?"

~Prime may have phrased a suggestion, but that was an order,~ Hound added.

"I'm ready to go there and hide for a week if I can get away with it," Alicia laughed. ~It's an order I completely agree with, then. I know I could use some rest, though I hope I have a chance to give both of you a bit of energy before then ... wish there was a way that you could both plug in at the same time.~

~There is,~ Hound chuckled as they headed out of the rec room and towards their quarters.


	10. The Naturalists 5: Every Society Issues

**Fandom**: Transformers Bayverse (POV'verse)  
**Pairing**: Mirage/Hound/Alicia Rodriguez  
**Rating**: NC-17 for mech/mech/female  
**Codes**: Slash, Het, Sticky, Xeno (mech/human)  
**Summary**: Socializing has left Alicia with more questions than answers, even as her heart settles down from watching her lover fight two of the deadliest the Autobots have to offer and the very unhappy Prime that stopped it.  
**Notes**: Written in the Point of View fanverse ( community .livejournal .com/tf_matrix )

* * *

**Shades of Grey 10:******

The Naturalists 5: Every Society Has Issues

* * *

As Hound carried her to the couch of their quarter's living room, Mirage went another direction, only to join them with two glowing cubes of deep red for the mechs and a sangria for her.

"We will tell you as much as we can," Mirage began somewhat haltingly. "Answer your questions. I'm sure the fight left you with a few."

Alicia took the drink with a sigh of thanks, and sipped the delicious, refreshing beverage.

"Why Mirage," she said gently, placing her hand on his arm. "Why would those two assholes just come looking to provoke a fight with you? I thought you were all on the same side."

"Technically we are," he nodded. "Early in the war, most noble houses, including my own, supported the Decepticons. We did not provide warriors, but we did provide tremendous wealth and resources to the rebellion."

"So, because your house supported the 'Cons ... the others assume that you did too? Or did you support them originally but changed your mind? I'm not really even sure I know what your role was in your house or how much power you had there."

"I was the second creation ... the second son ... of a mid-ranked bonded couple," Mirage began, his optics no longer focused on anything in the physical world. "Personally, I had next to no authority or power, not even over who I would bond with. I supported the Decepticon cause because I was told that was what we were going to do. Looking back, I know why we did. The new laws giving organics so many rights threatened not just our society, but our wealth. It as an outrage to have them go from less than property to citizens with full rights between one orn and the next.

"I turned to the Autobots when the Decepticons destroyed the Towers, destroyed my home and kin. I didn't believe in their rhetoric, on a level I still don't. I'm still not prepared to give up that last bit of Tower code that will identify who and what I am if I meet another of my kind," he didn't even try to control the longing in his voice. "But Tower society is a very insular one, even more so than the Seekers. Everyone knew we opposed the new laws, that we supported the rebellion, but not why, or who actually made those choices and how little influence most of us had.

"Prime, being what he is, knew I had less than nothing to do with those choices when he heard my formal name when I introduced myself that first time. He told me that a second creation was of no use to him without editing to his code. I had no where to go, no resources and the Cons hunting me. I agreed to his terms. He introduced me to the head of Autobot Special Operations; Jazz, though at the time he was only fifth in command, and told him to make something useful of a second creation that could turn invisible and had the quality of construction to outlast any but him.

"The next few decaorn were largely spent in stasis, the rest in varying stages of pain as my code was forcefully edited and reintegrated. Jazz didn't let me do anything but train for five full vorns and then some, didn't even let me out of the SpecOps bunker in Iacon. When he finally turned me loose on a mission, it seemed ... easy. I didn't learn until much, much later that it had already killed three operatives.

"I guess he figured at that point I could take care of myself and I was allowed to mingle with the army like any full fledged SpecOps agent. It didn't go well. I'm not really SpecOps. Not like most. I'm a specialist, a true spy. Those who didn't distrust me because of my appearance, because they could see I was a noble, would never trust me because I was an admitted spy and never learned to keep quiet enough about my opinions on organic rights."

Alicia was silent, considering his words for a long time. The idea of being programmed, having to be reprogrammed in order to simply function had her at one moment repulsed, but then she silently thought about the kind of training the military did with soldiers. It, too, was a form of programming. But the last thing he said ... his views on organic rights ... and what he has said about citizenship being an outrage ... it made her stomach sink. Ever since Mirage had first connected with her, she had never sensed anything condescending in his attitude toward her. He was respectful, affectionate, even loving. But could she really spend the remainder of a very long life with someone who might view her as ... property ... as something far less than he was?

"Mirage," she asked quietly, "I need to know how you view organics now, on my world, especially me. I'm not so interested in knowing about equality, because obviously in many ways we are not. You live longer, you are stronger, and an organic brain could never keep up with your processors. But ... I'm fiercely independent. I ... it would be very difficult for me to trust someone who viewed me as property."

She held her breath, for the first time since she had awoken with the socket in her neck, fearful that this was not going to work.

"Let me show you," he offered a cable from his wrist.

Alicia took his cable trustingly. She was afraid ... not of him ... but of losing something so precious and new out of differences that would be so terribly hard to overcome. She sighed and pushed the cable to her neck, shivering as always in anticipation of the connection.

Mirage gave her a moment to adapt, then carefully coaxed her awareness towards himself.

Even fully aware of that she was being shielded from much of what happened in his processors, she gathered a sense of time, his lifetime, as he perceived it. Even condensed and his best effort to make it comprehensible to her, all she could do was stare blankly at the impossibly long line of brilliant white dashes, some longer than others, occasionally overlapping or side by side, until he managed to convey that each dash was the lifetime of one socket, one of well over a hundred thousand.

As she digested that, he 'turned' her around to face the 'future' - his life expectancy if he didn't meet with a violent end - and did his best to help her grasp that he was still _young_ for his kind. Not a youngling like Bumblebee, but still relatively young compared to many of the surviving Autobots.

Against any logic because of how their lives actually worked, she couldn't stop herself from mentally placing him in his early to mid twenties.

Alicia felt dizzy ... overwhelmed as her mind tried to comprehend the vastness of his lifespan compared to hers. She had never felt so small, so insignificant.

Part of wanted to rip the cable out ... to run away, to never have to face this sense of her own nothingness ... of barely being a blink of an eye.

She didn't realize that tears were flowing down her face. Another thought came to her in that moment, her analytical mind taking over once again to attempt to make sense of what her heart could not. How could beings that lived as long as they did possibly view the lives of humans as being as important as their own. There were so many humans, billions of them, and new generations being born every moment. On a very real level, every human being was replaceable. The knowledge of it hurt and calmed her at the same time.

~As for mortals, their days are like grass; they flourish like a flower of the field; for the wind passes over it, and it is gone, and its place knows it no more,~ she quoted from the Psalms.

~Yet for that moment, they are treasured, doted on, adored and desired,~ Mirage told her gently. ~No, I do not think I could ever see an organic, at least not a human, as an equal. It is difficult to think of them as more than you do your cat. The pain of loss would be too great after so many. I have cared for every socket I have had, even those I did not like much. I remember every designation, every face and form and voice.~

Distantly she felt him wipe the tears from her face with a finger.

~I will never take your independence away from you, nor treat you with less care than I have shown you already. You are not my property, you will never be. It is out of respect that I am trying to help you grasp why I cannot offer you more equality than I do. I must protect myself and my bonded first. It is the nature of life, even ours, to preserve oneself.~

~Thank you for you honesty,~ her mind whispered. ~I think I understand.~

Alicia imagined her own life stretching in front of her. In one version of it, she might meet someone, it could work or could be painful. She might have a child, accomplish a few things of note in her profession, but before long it would be over as she slipped into senility like her grandmother had. It could be a very good life, normal. And then she looked ahead at what she could be with Mirage and Hound. She would be connected with something so much greater than she was, and yet who shared the same kind of feelings and love and needs. She would have an opportunity to learn so much more, to expand herself so much more than she ever would in a single life time. Just touching their minds changed hers, gave her perspectives that she never could have come to on her own. It was far more than the sex, what they offered her. It was a symbiosis, pure and simple, and a beautiful one. They needed her, or someone like her. What she would receive in return was so much greater than anything she could have imagined. And it didn't mean she couldn't have the first, a mate, a child, a notable career, if she chose to. She simply had hundreds of years more to accomplish it.

She tried, without words, to show Mirage what she was thinking, and then thought to him in her own language

~ It was never equality that I was concerned about, Mirage. I am aware enough of our differences to see the impossibility of that. I want both of you, and what you have to give. To know that you need me, and want me, too, that you would possibly choose me for some reason out of the thousands or even billions of possibilities on this world alone, how could I even consider saying no to that? What you have shown me is painful to fathom, but no more painful than any realization of my own mortality or limitations. Most human being live their entire lives in denial of just how finite they are. My own religious background teaches me to embrace my finiteness rather than rejecting it, that living each day as though it were my last is a more joyful way to live. If I knew I had only days or weeks or months left, I would choose to spend them with you and Hound. So why would I not want to choose to spend a thousand years with you?~

~Because you may have wanted equal, or at least one who would let you believe you are one,~ he said gently. ~Most do.~

Despite his words, he couldn't control how _warm_, how _good_ it made him feel that she saw all that he had shown and still chose him.

She stood up so that she could touch him gently on the face.

~If you were a human, I'd want equal. You aren't a human. There is simply no way it could be, being what you are. I'm logical enough to understand that, and my passionate latina heart wants both of you. I would not want to be lied to or convinced of something that was false, just to make me feel good about something that is not true. So ... in some ways, your being honest with me treats me far more equally than someone pretending that I was an equal when I was not.~

She felt how bewildered it left him, a hint of something in the background that marveled at her perspective and wasn't entirely sure what to do with it, but front and center was a warm, mental hug and kiss of thanks before he guided her back into her body and back off, leaving the connection where it was more normally.

"That went well," Hound smiled, his entire frame vibrating with the pleasured rumble of his powerful engine.

"Yes, it did," Mirage agreed, stroking her face lightly to dry her tears with a bit of extra warmth channeled there. "Perhaps we will leave to your camp in the morning? Ratchet should sign your release once he sees us."

"That would be amazing. I have been inside way too long. And this time, the mosquitoes don't need to eat me for dinner." She smiled at both of them. She might be their pet, but they were her Mechs, and she was going to enjoy being in her territory with them for awhile.

Mirage smiled indulgently at her and Hound rumbled with a mixture of amusement and approval.

"Is there anything else we can answer for you?" Mirage offered with a mental caress.

"Honestly, I don't know if my mind can handle much more right now. That was a lot of take in. It isn't every day that a girl has what feels like metaphysical revelation of just how dang finite she really is." She smiled at them and winked, in an amazingly light-hearted mood considering the depth of what they had just discussed. "But my body is totally awake and could take much, much more."

"A bath with us?" Mirage rumbled, open lust flickering brightly on his side of the connection. "There is a movie night, light socialization, tonight as well."

"You sure work hard to keep me clean Mirage," she teased. "At least I'm not furry, hmmm?"

"You have no idea," Hound laughed deeply and a spike between a grimace and embarrassment flickered in Mirage's processor for a moment.

Alicia shot an amused look at Hound. "A bath with the two of you sounds lovely, and movie night ... later might be nice, though I hope there won't be any repeats of the lunchtime brawl. I had better keep my mouth shut while we are there, at least if there is anyone unfriendly around."

"It is not for several hours, and the Twins are unlikely to be there," Mirage said evenly as he stood, gathering her up for the walk to the bathing room. "Still, an encounter with my detractors is not something worth concerning yourself about. They will happen, and occasionally they will be violent."

"Well, then I will relax about it and just enjoy watching your skill with the blade."

"That's the way to go," Hound nodded. "You have the advantage of not knowing him when he needed to be protected.

The thought crossed Alicia's mind that she likely to start having a Pavlovian reaction to the bathing pool since it seemed to be Mirage's preferred place for intimacy with her ... and she humorously thought that his desire to remove excess oils and sweat from her might very well be the reason. It was odd how something that on the one hand could feel offensive was turning out simply to be humorous to her. It helped that she felt adored ... something she had never experienced in any of her romantic encounters with human men.

~You are not far from the truth,~ Mirage admitted silently. ~My first several sockets were avians. Very clean to touch. I became accustomed to it, and I have never quite given up on the Tower ideals of appearance when I'm not on a mission.~

~Well it's a good thing that I enjoy being bathed,~ she mentally laughed. ~My cat would hiss and leave me bloody if I tried to wash him.~ For some reason, the pet analogy was tickling her sense of humor. It was far more fun to be amused than offended, after all, and they did not mean to offend her.

When Mirage put her down and unplugged his cable, she made quick work of removing her dress and underclothes and briefly stopped in her private bathroom to take care of her needs.

She walked back toward them with a broad smile, and then jumped and dove into the warm pool, going deep underneath, then swimming a couple of laps before coming to the side, her long hair streaming wet down her back.

"Well?" she asked, smiling brightly at both of them when she realized they were both just watching her.

Hound chuckled and made a calculated move that shoved Mirage in all but head first, then jumped on top while his lover was trying to orient himself.

Despite the sudden displacement of so much water, she quickly realized that it had only moved her towards the edge a couple lengths. Alicia gave a nearly girlish giggle as the wave pushed her toward the side. It was so fun to watch the two of them at play, seeming so very young for all their vast number of years.

"Is this another version of the hunter and the hunted?" she asked.

"Yap," Hound answered with a laugh as he briefly brought the top of his head above the water level. "You expect something else to be the favorite game of a hound?"

Alicia dove under again, trustingly swimming between the mechs' intertwined legs, her hands dancing sensuously along the seems of the plating that hid their spikes, before surfacing.

"I think I've caught both of you, but can you catch me?"

She dove under again, swimming deep underwater in the pool, knowing they would easily grab her as she darted between their legs.

It was Hound's hands that carefully closed around her and brought her to the surface.

"How do you feel about being connected to both of us while I make him scream?" the green mech rumbled, his optics glittering in excitement.

Alicia pushed her whole body into Hounds fingers, grinned broadly already completely aroused and slick with anticipation. "God yes. That sounds amazing."

She lifted her long wet hair to expose her socket and trembled. Hound's presence washed over her first, joined a moment later by Mirage. This time it wasn't the dim, distant presence through Hound, but full strength, just like when he was connected.

"A cable that has a socket-plug in it so couples can share," Hound rumbled as he set her on the edge of the tub, his mind in a decidedly sexually predatory place as he looked down at his lover still pinned to the bottom of the tub.

A bolt of arousal came from Mirage along with the fact that he knew exactly what was coming and was close to ecstasy just with that.

Without a sound, Hound reached to the controls and pressed a tapped in a short code, then sank under the water as it shimmered faintly and became more solid, almost gelatin-like, enough to support much of their weight and motion.

The first wave of their combined lust and arousal hit Alicia full force, almost like a physical blow of pure ecstasy. She felt Hound shudder from the sensation of Mirage arching and sliding against him and the raw, uncontrollable _want_ it set off in the noble's circuits. Moaning, she nearly fell back into the stiff yet giving substance that seconds before had been water. She steadied herself and moved a little further from the edge, lying back on a pillowy towel.

"Madre de dios," she murmured, wondering how her tiny in comparison body could handle the amount of emotion and sensation that was surely coming her way. If the first blast had been any indication, the double connection seemed to have increased the feeling exponentially.

~One of us can disconnect,~ Hound offered along with the awareness that even at this intensity, they were shielding her from the full force of their sensations and desires.

~No!~ was Alicia's instant reaction to the offer to disconnect. She took several breaths and calmed herself, focusing again on the sensations, but not allowing herself to become so completely immersed in them that she lost herself entirely. It was like placing a thin veil in front of the connection with the mechs, one that would keep the sensations from tearing apart her mind. She wasn't sure what she was learning, but she knew it was important ... to be able to feel but to not become so lost in them that she lost herself ... at least not yet, not until her own mind had grown stronger, more able to cope and process the pleasure that was so intense it bordered on pain.

Now, even with most of her brain flooded with their combined desire, she could feel the difference between them. Hound was aroused, impassioned by the thought of 'facing his bonded. Mirage, though, was on another level entirely. With the first slide of the gel across the sensors on his metal skin his mind had screamed and surrendered to what he couldn't name, but she could.

This sensation, what she was feeling from him in the slide and support of gel was the noble's top kink. It shut everything else down but the _want_; the mantra that wasn't even language demanding overload.

Fine blue fingers caressed his own frame, lost in his own desires.

~He's insufferably sexy, don't you think?" Hound caught her attention as he allowed himself to slowly drift down to his lover. ~It gets better when I touch.~

~You both are insufferably sexy. Touch him for us, make him beg and scream for you.~

She felt them both shudder at the command, a wordless sensation from Hound that he _really_ liked her ideas.

Mirage's sensations came to the forefront when Hound slid a hand down his chest, one finger along the seam where it parted to expose his spark. Tender touches left the noble quivering as Hound shifted them, brought Mirage up to rest on his chest, both facing Alicia to give her the best view.

She caught memory flashes from them both, the silent gasps as Mirage spread his legs and tried to press into every touch. He wanted hands there, against his interface panel, stroking him, wanted a spike to fill him. Something was off though, and her analytical mind snapped at it. The feed from Mirage, all the sensations matched, but the hands were wrong.

The fingers Mirage 'saw' touching him were slender and long, built much like his only larger, and a rich royal blue color with silver filigree that set off his own markings perfectly.

A terrible longing, burningly hot and painfully old, echoed there too.

From Hound she felt a light thought that it was okay. He knew, and he triggered the fantasy intentionally.

It was such a loving, generous thing to do ... to completely indulge a fantasy such as that in a lover. She fell in love with Hound's easy going generosity all over again in that moment, and sent him her own affectionate mental caress.

Alicia watched them with hungry eyes even as she felt their actions and primal desire moving like an electric current throughout her own body. She gave in to the need and began to stroke herself in time with Hound's caresses of his lover. Her mind interpreted the multiple levels of sensory input by playing out its own fantasy of Mirage holding her on his chest, that she was unable to move, while Hound stroked them both. It was so real ... she could feel his fingers touching every part of her even as she was alone on the side of the bath.

She felt a whimper from Mirage as he pressed his hips down, a silent begging for his lover to fill him, to claim him in front of her. To make what they had socially real and public.

From Hound was a soothing croon, silent assurance that everyone would always know he was a good bonded, that he was _his_.

~Mine,~ Hound growled the word across their bond, causing Mirage to arch and gasp open mouthed as he spread his legs wider. With a single movement Hound buried himself inside his bonded, angling their hips up to give Alicia a perfect view of the claim.

Once again, Alicia began to lose track of where she stopped and they started, but this time is was exquisitely pleasurable, not overwhelming ... or at least overwhelming only in the best sense of the word.

Her mind continued to interpret the input with its own lurid fantasy, in which she was pinned to the noble's elegant blue chest, Hound growled _mine_ at her, burying himself in her with a force that would have certainly killed her in real life, but in fantasy made her scream in ecstasy. She knew at some level that is was Mirage's claiming that she felt, even as her eyes watched Hound's broad green cable ravage Mirage's valve.

Then she felt, through Mirage, how Hound flooded their bond and wrapped the noble in everything that was _Hound_ and the shuddering ecstasy it caused in Mirage. As hot as the fantasy was, this was the noble's undoing and he keened his overload into the gelatinized water.

She came with Mirage, his overload pulling her over the edge with him in a tempest of ecstasy that seemed to touch every single part of her, inside and out, her body convulsing with the power of it.

Her first conscious thought as she came back to awareness of herself was how very much _she_ wanted to be claimed, to be owned, to belong to these mechs.

When she managed to focus her eyes, he was leaning against the side of the deep tub, Mirage in his lap with his head tilted back to rest against Hound's shoulder as his body was slowly penetrated once more.

She managed to lift a languid arm and rest her hand on Hounds broad back. Her own wet dripping cunt was still throbbing and squeezing a spike that was not there but felt absolutely real as she slowly descended into a level of relaxation she had never before experienced. She wasn't sure she could move if she wanted to.

"You have the most amazing fantasies," Hound rumbled next to her.

"Because I have two amazing mechs to fantasize with," she said when she could manage words.


	11. The Naturalists 6: Movie Night

**RP**:The Naturalists 5: Movie Night  
**Pairing**: Mirage/Hound/Alicia Rodriguez, Jazz/Prowl  
**Writers**: gatekat, femme4jack and laulun_siivet on LJ  
**Verse**: Bayverse (POV'verse)  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Warnings**: Slash, Het, Xeno (mech/human)  
**Description**: Diego Garcia's Cross Species Social Coordinator's first gathering in the newly converted Hanger 10 is quit a hit for the most part.  
**Notes**: Written in the Point of View fanverse ( community .livejournal .com/tf_matrix )  
Full scene (including sections these folks aren't in) (community .livejournal .com/tf_matrix/12375 .html)  
Jazz is alive (you should be used to this by now) and bonded to Prowl.  
Do I really have to keep repeating that I don't own the boys? femme4jack owns Alicia.

"text" - English  
_"Spanish"_ translated to English  
**"Cybertronian Speech"** translated to English  
~Bond/Cable speak~ translated to English  
::Radio/comm communication::

* * *

**Shades of Grey 11:******

The Naturalists 06: Movie Night

* * *

Alicia was invisible on Mirage's elegant shoulder, held close and safe by several cables and connected to him by socket interface for silent communication with both of her mechs, and oh did she love thinking those words ... _her mechs._ They entered the room that was beginning to buzz with human and mech conversation. She was going to enjoy people watching with Mirage, who preferred to use his EM shield in these situations. Hound was greeting folks in his friendly manner, not giving anyone a clue that his bonded and his new human were there.

She could feel the dual echo of their response to her thought of them being _'her mechs'_ and the raw intensity of it floored her as much as the shared passion in the bath had. It was enough to make her decide they should spend the evening in their quarters instead, but she resisted. There would be time later.

~I think I could get used to being invisible with you.~

~Good,~ Mirage's thoughts brushed against hers as he settled near the back of the room, casually leaning against the wall near one of the couches so Hound could sit and socialize and still be close. ~Though you should spend some of the evening visible and among them.~

~I will ... in a bit. This morning was a lot for me already. If you and Hound weren't here, I would have escaped back to my campsite half a day ago.~

~We _can_ go,~ Mirage said firmly, something Hound agreed with, even if it was far more distant. ~There is no reason you should overload your social software.~

She smiled at their concern for her. ~Let's stay a little while, at least. I'm a bit intrigued to meet, or at least watch a few of these non-military types who seem to be out tonight. That Miles kid who gave us the strange selection of movies? Want to find out what he was thinking. And besides, I can send suggestive thoughts to Hound through you and watch him squirm a little.~

She found herself caressing Mirage's finely sculpted face with her hand as she talked with him. Closing her eyes, she could focus on caressing him through her mind and body ... which was far more distracting than anything she was sending to Hound at the moment.

~And myself,~ he bit back a moan even as he turned the torment around and subjected her to the best of what he'd done to Hound over their long courtship and longer time bonded. ~He's learned to never to be distracted by his friends when I am expecting his attention.~

She bit her lip on a moan that would have easily given them away, since the room was still not that loud.

~You are wicked, and I love it!~ She closed her eyes again and relived their amazing threesome that had taken place in the bath less than an hour before, feeling more an more aroused just by sharing thoughts.

~You have _no idea_ how wicked my Raj is,~ Hound's voice teased her mind. ~Now stop tormenting him for a moment. It looks like a couple humans noticed me.~

Alicia watched in fascination from her spot with Mirage. The blond 'kid' and the genteel looking blind man seemed quite an interesting duo. ~Know anything about them? From files?~

~The young one is the cross species social coordinator. Which is a human way of saying his job is to facilitate mechs finding sockets and helping Jazz and Blaster keep moral up. The older one is a civilian psychologist on the staff.~

~The kid picks 'alien' for the first movie night to facilitate mechs finding sockets? He either is clueless, or he has a great sense of humor ~ Alicia said through the link.

~It was apparently voted on by the entire base,~ Mirage gave a mental shrug. ~We do not have much in common with those aliens at least.~

~I'm glad you need us for energy, not for reproduction ... at least not like it is in this movie. It's a good one ... as far as thrillers go, but also shows the extreme of how xenophobic we can be.~

Mason walked alongside Miles, approaching the alien with the heavier footsteps; tapping his cane, though not as often since he could use Miles as guide. When they came to a stop he waited for a pause in conversation, not wanting to be rude and possibly interrupt something, before giving a loose wave of his hand, smile on his face.

"Hello, mind if we bug you a bit?"

"Not at all," Hound's deep, rolling voice responded from well above Mason before there were the myriad of mechanical noises. "I'm Hound," came from much closer to his head level.

Miles smiled. "Hi big dude. I'm Miles Lancaster. This is my friend Mason Falk."

Mason tilted his head back, using Hound's voice so he could face him better. "Pleasure to meet you," he stated, contemplating whether or not he should offer his hand, before throwing caution to the wind and doing so. A large, warm metallic finger pressed lightly against his hand to shake it.

"It is a pleasure to meet you as well. Has Ratchet discussed optic replacement options with you?" Hound asked as casually as the question was for his kind.

Mason nearly choked at the casually worded question, caught between laughter and horror. He settled on a wry grin. "He hasn't mentioned it, no. As far as human advancement goes, replicating a fully functional eye and integrating it in a manner in which the human body will accept it so far is impossible. Is it common for your species? Replacing body parts, that is."

"We are mechanical," Hound chuckled lightly, a grin on his faceplates. "There is very little that can't be replaced for us, though some replacements are generally avoided because of the changes that create in our personality or abilities."

Miles grinned watching Mason meet his first mech aside from Ratchet "I'd offer to bring you some of those energon thingies, Hound, but I've been told they'd dissolve me," he added.

"It's not a problem," Hound grinned at him. "Have you had Jazz or Prowl set up security on it to make sure neither set of Twins can spike it?"

The look of concerned horror on Miles' face showed that he had not.

"I should have expected you could replace just about anything," Mason continued. "If it is possible for your very personalities to be altered through replacements, how do you define a sense of 'self'? A common theme throughout human philosophy and science is the question of what makes us what we are, and if we can be the same person depending on different changes. Do you guys ever have any problems because of that, similar to human identity crisis?" Mason realized he was going into his psychologist mindset once again, and the tips of his ears turned pink in a slight blush, his hand coming to rest on the back of his neck. "Please don't feel like you have to answer my questions if they're too invasive. I have a tendency to go off like that, sorry."

"Not at all," Hound sounded honestly delighted to talk. "Our sense of self, what defines one Cybertronian from all others, is our spark. It is a physical thing that we can touch, the one part of us that cannot be replaced. We are born, sparked, when our spark enters its first frame, and we die, extinguish, when it fades to nothing and returns to the Well of All Sparks. During the war, damage causes most lives to extinguish, but before, it was something we chose to have happen. With proper maintenance, fuel and the desire to do so, there is nothing known that limits our lifespan."

"So this spark is essentially what would be equivalent to a soul?" Mason asked, his mind going at full speed as he tried to absorb the fundamental differences it would cause in a society.

"Yes," Hound nodded easily.

"That is amazing, having something tangible, something physical that is what makes you who you are. Humans have argued, fought, debated over centuries over something that for you, simply exists without doubt. And the concept of living forever? To be perfectly honest, it's somewhat frightening. The human mind is in no way designed to comprehend a life on that scale, in fact there have been studies that have shown that even our current lifespan, as it's been extended by modern medicine, has a negative impact on the psyche as we're just not made for living that long. You must be so very wise, to have lived for as long as you have. I have to admit, I'm somewhat in awe here." Mason grinned sheepishly, feeling somewhat insignificant compared to this being that had probably lived longer than his entire race, and in awe that it was standing here, humoring someone like him.

Miles smiled at Mason deep in conversation with Hound, and slipped away to get the psychologist another cup of coffee.

~What do you think of the psychologist?~ Alicia asked Mirage, genuinely interested in his reaction.

~He'll never make it as a socket,~ he said quietly. ~He has the intellect to remain interested in life for a very long time, the will to succeed, but if contemplating living a few centuries terrifies him, he'll never last.~

~It terrifies me to some extent, Mirage, but people adapt to new situations. He doesn't even know what is possible yet...~ she reminded him.

~True, though it could not be very strong for you, if we haven't noticed yet,~ he replied gently. ~Or you are far better at hiding some things than I anticipated.~

~He's not really our type anyway,~ Hound added through Mirage. ~Now Smokescreen or Prowl, or Jazz, I could see him getting along very well with any of them. Maybe even Bluestreak.~

She smiled at _her_ mechs and felt them both shiver mentally at her possessive thought before they returned it with a brush of desire for _their_ socket.

~You'll have to give me lessons on picking your type, a lesson that preferably involves me between the two of you with no clothes on, since I need to find myself a mate before we all get _too_ attached.~

~Anytime, anywhere,~ Hound rumbled deeply.

~Agreed,~ Mirage had to force himself to remember to cycle air. ~Though I am sure anyone you are willing to spend a millennia or more with will suit us well.~

~You know ... millennia with a human male ... that _did_ just terrify me. For some reason, the prospect with you is a far more comforting one,~ she bit back laughing out loud.

~You know I like that,~ Mirage purred deeply, his affection and desire to have her to himself clear through the connection.

~No matter what he says, I can get him to let you date, as long as you let us pre-screen them,~ Hound offered up. ~It might not be as easy as before you are claimed, but there are ways to make it work.~

"Wise?" Hound cocked his head, both at the human's thoughts and his bonded's approval of them. "I can't say I consider myself all that wise. Prime is. Jazz even, in his own chaotic way. I'm not really that old. Not compared to a lot of mechs. Ironhide and Ratchet, for example, predate your solar system if we've done the calculations right. I'm barely old enough to have seen the last dinosaurs on this world, if I'd been here. Which would have been pretty cool, really."

Mason smiled at his denial. "Perhaps for your race you may not seem old, but compared to a human the experience of your years stretches far beyond anyone born on this planet. As I don't know you personally, I obviously can't make any sound judgments, but from what I know based on how wisdom correlates with experience, I would say you are wise."

"Then thank you," Hound inclined his head. "I guess it is a matter of perceptive," he admitted. "Have you met Smokescreen yet?"

He shook his head gently. "I can't say I have. You're the first ... what would be the proper term to refer to your kind as? Anyways, you're the first of your kind that I've met, besides meeting with Ratchet for my socket installation."

"As a race, Cybertronians. As a faction, Autobots. You'll likely hear some refer to themselves by their city, frametype or other factor of origin. Prowl, Smokescreen and Bluestreak are Praxian, my bonded, Mirage, is a Tower mech, there are Seekers, which are a specific sub-type of combat flier just to name a few," Hound told him easily. "Mech or mechs is linguistically similar to man or men in English, though the comparison beyond that has limited value as we do not have gender in the reproductive or social sense. Anyway, you should look Smokescreen up. He's our psychologist, even though his primary capacity is as Chief Diversionary Tactician."

Mason gave a low whistle. "Whew ... I'd say that's a lot, but humans have just as many, if not more manners of referring to themselves, what with all the cultures and languages. So mech is the general term? I'll keep that in mind. I would love to speak with, Smokescreen, you called him? I'd be curious as to how psychology is approached in a different race."

"There are a few that will object, but will generally respond enough to correct you," Hound nodded. "You'll find most Autobots are pretty mellow as a group, but I'm sure Smokescreen would love to talk psych with you. Just a head's up, he's also the army's best gambler and a manipulator second only to Jazz."

He grinned in amusement. "A gambler, eh? I'll remember that, though I'm not much of a gambler myself, aside from the occasional poker game. It's probably a good thing that you guys are mellow, what with having to deal with our bunch," he gestured towards the movie screen, "Humans tend not to be the most tolerant, fear of the unknown and all that. Although most of the people on base here are fairly open minded as far as I've experienced, Miles particularly."

"Given the ratio of humans on base to those on the planet, Prime can afford to choosy on who he permits to remain here," Hound said easily. "Those who are ill-suited to accepting us do not stay long, if they even get here."

"True. It doesn't benefit anyone to keep someone on base who is intolerant and unwilling to learn. I've recommended sending a few people home after seeing them; some people just don't want to adjust. On the other hand, some just need a bit of time and an open ear to adapt. I didn't realize that you guys had the final say on who stays; the U.S. military tends to be rather controlling. You must have some very talented negotiators."

"His name is Prime," Hound grinned. "He's backed up by Mr. Rules himself in Prowl, the Saboteur who made First Lieutenant in Jazz, and quite possibly the best diversionary tactician on Cybertron in Smokescreen. Then there's Ratchet. Even Megatron's afraid of him when he gets into rant mode."

~And the fact that the military is quietly aware that keeping us happy involves keeping the humans on base happy,~ Mirage added to Alicia. ~They very much want to keep us happy at this stage.~

"Well, anyone who can knock the U.S. military down a couple of pegs is someone to be taken seriously, and is probably pretty awesome in general. I'll have to put those names down on my list of 'People to Eventually Meet'. As for Ratchet, doctors can be pretty damn scary in my experience, but he could teach them all in that area."

"Definitely. He's a battlefield medic, but before the war he was the finest surgeon on Cybertron. These days he can drop a mech at fifty paces with a wrench, and has no hesitation to do so in the medbay or out. But if you're damaged, there is no one better to work on you. You'll likely meet everyone eventually. There aren't that many of us to show up in the next few years."

Mason laughed at the mental image of a wrench-wielding Ratchet. "If only I could throw things at my patients, but then again, I'm sure everyone has days like that."

"Almost everyone, but Ratchet actually does it," Hound chuckled. "But he has the lot of us to keep in line, and I'm sure you'll work out just how easy _that_ is."

He smiled sadly, "Before the war... it must be difficult, having been at war for so long. It's so very easy for me to forget that you guys had lives and professions outside of all this. I hope peace for you comes soon, preferably within my lifetime."

"It might," Hound quieted suddenly. "I'm not sure many of us know what we'd do with ourselves. There's only a handful of mechs that still remember, first hand, what life without constant war actually is. Most of us still alive were created during it, and some, Like Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, were created _for_ it."

"An entire lifetime of war," Mason murmured in slight shock, "Just the thought makes my heart hurt, makes me wish I could do so much more... no one should ever have to live through that, no one..."

He gave a small shake of his head, as if to dislodge the thoughts currently swimming through it, before continuing in a more normal tone of voice. "Well, hopefully you'll all get a chance to learn. I'm sure many people here, including myself, would be more than willing to help when that happens."

"Fortunately our leaders do remember," Hound offered a small smile even though he knew it couldn't be seen. "Prime has always been prepared for peace, I understand that Jazz knows a lot about living in the Golden Age, and Prowl might not have done much off duty, but he was there for many vorns. Ironhide doesn't count, he was a warrior even before the war."

Mason smiled in unknowing return. "It's good to hear that at least some of you have experienced peace."

Something of a commotion near the main hanger door drew most attention in the room away from the movie's opening credits or their own conversations. While most of the mechs were more or less accustomed to witnessing Jazz dragging Prowl into various social gatherings, the sight of the fifteen foot, slender silver mech all but physically pulling his twenty-three foot tall white and red bonded around never got old to most of them.

To witness this small mech with one hand affixed firmly on Prowl's larger white one and the other over his head and grasping the iridescent wrist of the Autobot Seeker while he walked backwards was something else.

It couldn't help but pass through a few processors to wonder just how he'd managed to keep the Megatron-sized flier on the ground and moving with him, for there was no doubt she was displeased and he'd won whatever conflict they'd had.

Just as it was clear that he was smug as the Pit about it.

Seeing two mechs and the flyer arrive, Miles, completely in host mode and fanboyishly excited to meet more bots, walked over.

"Ummm, hi. I'm Miles, welcome to the new rec room and to movie night."

"Miles mah man," Jazz turned his head to greet the human with his trademark grin. "Great job on the setup. Have ya met mah bonded, Prowl? And th' dragon lady with th' wings is Shimmerfire."

"Hello, Miles," Prowl inclined his head slightly, his tone as stiff and formal and his stance.

Shimmerfire barely took a moment out of glaring at Jazz to gave him a look, and went back to attempting to extract her wrist from the silver one's grasp.

~The silver one is Jazz, Prime's First Lieutenant, Head of Special Operations and Second in Command of the Autobot Army,~ Mirage told Alicia silently with no small amount of respect and just a bit of awe towards Jazz in his mind. ~It's not unusual to see him do this to Prowl; his bonded and our Head Tactician, also Autobot Third in Command. The big Seeker I haven't met, but her file indicates she's a Neutral that recently signed up when she arrived on Earth.~

Miles grin got even larger. "Oh, sweet! It's nice to finally meet you both in person. I really appreciate the new job. It is a blast, though I'm totally amazed at the budget. Are you sure those figures were correct? I mean ... it is pretty huge."

"Glad you're enjoining it," Jazz grinned even more.

"I am quiet certain the figures you have are the correct ones," Prowl inclined his head to the lanky human. "It is very important to integrate our societies as quickly and smoothly as possible. Long experience has taught us that such activities are the most effective way."

**"Why?"** Shimmerfire trilled in the Seeker dialect, her gaze on Jazz.

**"Cause we need'm happy,"** he reminded her. **"Just cause ya're young doesn't mean ya can do without'm forever."**

He looked toward the gigantic Shimmerfire and gave a smile "And welcome to you, dragonlady dude-ette."

"I am Shimmerfire," she corrected Miles with a rumble of her engines and flick of her wings to a higher angle, her vocals still unaccustomed to English sounds.

Jazz shifted one finger on her wrist and she winced, lowering her wings a bit.

"Oops, my bad, Shimmerfire. I call everyone dude ... bad habit," Miles apologized.

~You sure you still want to be invisible, Raj? I think I feel up to being a little more social ... it seems like Jazz is someone you think well of, and that naturally means I'd like to meet him.~

~He is my direct superior,~ Mirage smiled fondly at Alicia. ~Very well, I will drop my shield.~ Even as he did so and stood to walk towards his CO, he didn't hind the extreme unease he felt in being visible in such a gathering.

~It'll be fine, love,~ Hound took an extra long step to catch up and rested a hand against the small of Mirage's back. It almost instantly caused elegant mech to relax.

Miles looked around, suddenly very confused. Another mech had appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, with a human woman riding on his shoulder. He saw the mech reach up and unplug a cable from her socket, something he had certainly *not* seen yet, though he had a good idea what it was about. He knew that part of his job was helping give humans and mechs a chance to get to know one another so that the humans would feel comfortable with sharing energy, but from the way Alicia was looking at the blue mech, it seemed like there was a lot more to that energy sharing than had been covered in orientation. _'You are not required to share energy to have a socket,'_ the instructor had said, _'but if you are interested and willing to share energy with a mech, simply inquire with any who are on base and they will be happy to explain the process to you. It is completely safe and enjoyable.'_

Looking at the human woman, Miles decided right then and there that he was going to get involved in the orientation process and make some changes if he could.

He looked back at Jazz, who was smiling with a knowing look at the pair as Hound came up and put an affectionate hand on the elegant looking one's back. Looking back at Jazz and Prowl, remembering the word 'bonded' he had used, and realized there were also things going on between the mechs that had not been very well explained, either. "Dude, there is definitely a lot of stuff they aren't covering in the orientations."

"Hay Raj. Glad to see ya joined the party with your pretty lady," Jazz smiled winningly at her and the two mechs before looking at Miles. He released his captive's wrists and knelt to be closer to the human's eye level. "Raj ... Mirage, the blue and white one, is one of mah best agents. He has an EM shield that warps light around him. The big green mech is Hound. They're another bonded pair that just arrived on base a few days ago. Bonding is something like your marriage, but much more serious."

Clearly there were many things that Bluestreak, his first and only Cybertronian friend, had not explained to him, for all that he talked constantly, Miles thought. He and the dude were going to have a chat later. And the reason Sam had been constantly too busy to see him since he'd arrived was starting to make sense. Miles laughed and shook his head.

"And ... Mirage was just unplugged a cable from her socket ... what was that all about?"

"Probably so they can talk without revealing he's there," Jazz chuckled. "Raj has a real fondness for not being noticed."

Miles watched the interaction between the others with a curious and perceptive look at how Mirage and the woman were interacting. "Oh ... well that's cool."

"Yes, however Alicia wished to meet you," Mirage inclined his head to his superior.

**"I'm surprised you haven't claimed her yet,"** Jazz cocked his lip components as he spoke in Cybertronian at full speed.

**"You know I do not rush into such things when they are not a possession,"** Mirage reminded him stiffly. "Alicia, this is Jazz; Saboteur, First Lieutenant of the Autobots, Head of Special Operations and my direct superior."

"It's good ta meet ya," Jazz extended a hand to her to shake. "It seems ya've made quite an impression on mah Raj," he grinned teasingly at his agent. "Ya might make a social mech out of 'im yet."

"He and Hound have made quite the impression on me, actually," she replied with a smile, her small hand shaking a clawed finger. "Swept me right off of my feet, to be honest, and not just literally."

"That is _very_ good ta hear," Jazz all but beamed, like a proud father hearing his favorite son had found a good girl. "Let mah guess, ya ran across'm in the marsh while they were play'n hunter 'n prey?"

**"Jazz!"** Mirage tried not to squeak as his frame went rigid and Hound tried to suppress a chuckle from behind them. **"Have _some_ decency, will you?"**

**"Never have before,"** he winked at his agent.

**"Is he always like this?"** Shimmerfire looked at Prowl, unsure whether to be amused or horrified.

**"When he's not, things are bad,"** Prowl told her blandly.

Alicia laughed brightly, she just couldn't help herself. She heard the rapid Cybertronian and saw the look and feel on Mirage's face and frame. She wished she were still plugged in and touched her hand to her socket unconsciously.

"Well ... I did meet them in the wetlands, but the rest I think I'll keep to myself, if you don't mind," she said, rubbing Mirage's elegant helm soothingly until he relaxed a bit.

Jazz's grin got even wider. "Ah'm quite sure iz nothing ah ain't seen before."

"Somehow I'm sure it's not, Jazz," she said wryly, before looking toward Shimmerfire and Prowl, trying to change the topic before Mirage simply disappeared again. "I haven't yet had the pleasure of meeting you."

"Prowl, Autobot Third in Command and Chief Tactical Officer," he offered his hand to her.

"And _mine_," Jazz piped up unrepentantly. "What? Ah came back from th' _dead_ for ya," he countered Prowl's look and the larger mech relented, reaching out to caress one of Jazz's helm-fins, causing the silver mech to hum in pleasure.

"Shimmerfire," the largest mech in the room said stiffly, her jet-like wings tense, every little movement of her body or the lights causing her paint to shimmer.

What really caught Alicia's attention though was the fact that unlike every other mech she'd encountered, this one sounded female.

"Hello Shimmerfire, pleasure to meet you," Alicia said with interest. "I've only met one other flyer, Tread Bolt, but I enjoyed speaking with him."

The Seeker snorted threw her vents. "Him."

"He's trying to court her," Jazz snickered. "It's not going well either."

**"He's barely a Seeker,"** she flicked her wings.

**"He's pure-bred,"** Jazz reminded her.

Alicia felt Mirage's connection cable brush against her socket. She discretely plugged the connector back in, deciding it was best to get a bit of coaching before ending up antagonizing another dangerous looking Cybertronian.

~What do I need to know to avoid fights and threats to my life this evening, love?~

~Apparently don't mention Tread Bolt again,~ Mirage chuckled. ~She's a Seeker, a special type of combat flier. They are arrogant, self-important, high-strung and this one is only just in her adult frame. Flattery, especially on appearance and flying prowess tends to go over well.~

~Excellent,~ she responded, blowing him a mental kiss.

"I've never seen coloring like that before, Shimmerfire. It is spectacular in the light, and I can only imagine how it would catch the sun when you fly," Alicia said, sounding absolutely sincere. It was true, the Seeker was quite spectacular in a rather terrifying sort of way.

~Laying it on too thick?~ she asked.

~Not with a Seeker,~ he chuckled between them, though he kept his exterior calm.

"It does," Shimmerfire's voice held something like a trill as her wings arched back and up to catch the lights. "It gave me my name, and it's my special defense. No other Seeker will be mistaken for me."

~She's preening,~ Mirage supplied. ~I once heard them described as ... peacocks with talons,~ he translated as best he could.

Alicia started to get into the game, and best part was, everything she said was honest. "Do you think I could see you fly sometimes, Shimmerfire? I'm sure it would be like nothing I've ever seen before."

~She _is_ preening,~ she giggled privately. ~And a peacock is exactly what she looks like. Spectacular, actually. I'm not lying to her, I really would love to see her fly.~

~Not lying is a good idea,~ Mirage agreed as Shimmerfire revved the turbines in her feet. ~That's a positive sound.~

"Sure," Shimmerfire rumbled, her wings twitching.

**"Not during the movie,"** Jazz stopped her escape before it happened. **"We came to socialize and you are going to stay,"** he stuck to her dialect, knowing full well she respected it more.

Her turbines changed to a high pitch as she glared at the lithe silver mech well under half her height. Optics met optic band for a tense moment, and her turbines turned off and she looked away.

**"That's better,"** Jazz chirred in Seeker.

Even as Mirage translated Jazz's words for her, it hit Alicia that despite her huge size, Shimmerfire _did_ seem young.

~Mirage, if she is just barely an adult, about how many earth years would she be?~

He was distracted for a moment, glancing at Jazz, who 'said' something she couldn't hear even with the connection.

~She's eighty-one vorns, so six thousand seven hundred and twenty three years, plus a small margin of error. As a Seeker, she would have reached her adult frame at seventy-five vorns, six thousand two hundred and twenty-five years. Our societies don't translate age well, but emotionally, she's likely in her mid-teens?~ he mentally glanced at Hound for a second opinion from the far more organic-experienced mech. ~Fifteen, perhaps less. Except she is a full adult, legally and physically. Seekers mature and upgrade their frames very quickly relative to most frametypes, even Aerials.~

Alicia gave a bit of a pouty face before winking at Jazz, and then said, again sincerely, because damn if she wasn't completely curious about all of these unique people, "Shimmerfire, perhaps you could let Hound or Mirage know sometime when you _are_ free to give a demonstration. I would really like to see. I'm really new here, and there is so much I haven't had a chance to experience yet."

"I will," Shimmerfire nodded quickly.

"Thank you," she said sincerely, feeling a bit maternal, which made her want to laugh at herself. "I look forward to it."

She mentally laughed. ~She really _is_ young little thing, then. She doesn't even predate human civilization. But ... what makes her a her? I mean, you don't reproduce sexually, right? So why use gender pronouns at all?~

She felt Mirage's surprise at the question, think about it, then glanced at Jazz again, who was doing his best to press his entire chassis against Prowl's. Whatever conversation they had didn't disrupt the Saboteur's efforts to seduce his bonded in front of everyone, but did tell Mirage what he needed.

~The gender references are an artifact of your language. No Cybertronian dialect has anything like it. When faced with a species and language that expects a gender, we each chose a voice and gender that suits us based on our best understand of that culture. Jazz says she is a she because her current programming is demanding she reproduce quickly and often because of how few Seekers are around. Most of us chose male because we are warriors and leaders, and culturally, it is easier to interact with your kind in that capacity if we present as male.~

~Oh, that makes so much more sense. I just couldn't understand why you were differentiated into genders, as masculine as you both come across to me due to _my_ gender constructs. So she is not a she, but she wants to reproduce, so how does _that_ happen?~

She felt Hound chuckle across the bond with Mirage, and the noble draw a deep, steadying breath.

~Yes and no,~ he began what he clearly expected to be a difficult subject. ~Seekers are that different, though not as different as you likely think.

~There are three normal ways for a new Cybertronian to come into existence. The most common, least dangerous and cleanest is to construct a frame and have the Allspark instill it with a spark. While it required paperwork, funds and time, it was the standard and the only way to create a pre-programmed mech like Prowl.

~The older way is for two or more bonded mechs to create enough energy during interfacing that when they spark-merge one or both develop an additional spark that feeds off their systems until it is strong enough to power a body of its own. It would then be transferred to a prepared frame. Most sparks created this way bear a distinct resemblance, physically and in personality, to at least one of their creators. This fell out of favor because it was difficult to create the spark, even more difficult to keep it alive until it was strong enough, and there is a very real chance of causing the carrier's spark to ... I heard it described as explode, but to extinguish, to die ... when it detached. Given a bond is required to create the new spark in the first place, it was not uncommon to loose all the creators.

~The third way is exclusive to Seekers to the best of my knowledge. It is much closer to how mammals reproduce. They do not require a bond, though they do require a spark merge. To be a Seeker, your carrier must be a Seeker. There are no exceptions. All other fliers are Aerials and lack much of the specialized code a Seeker has. They are saner, more stable, but have none of the advantages either.

~Once a Seeker has the energy to create new sparks, they will generate a protoform for each spark within themselves. I have heard of up to nine is possible, but I have never seen or met a Seeker who is from a clutch of more than six. Almost all were either single or trine births. They are able to fly independently within a metacycle ... about six years.~

Alicia digested it for a minute, her face breaking into a wide smirk. ~So what you are saying, aside from everything else you just said, is that the two of you could make bambinos. Ok, aside from the fact that I'd never want to see you two in that kind of danger, that is just adorable.~

~Yes, we can make sparklings, and we will try,~ Mirage told her quietly, leaning against Hound faintly for support. He didn't have to say now much it terrified him, far more than any joy he felt towards the potential results. ~As a bonded couple, we must.~

She considered the matter for a few moments, becoming suddenly very serious, her analytical mind coming into full play. ~Of course...with the Allspark gone, facing that kind of danger is the _only_ way to continue your species. So does having energy from a socket affect the chances of a spark-merge resulting in a new spark, or affect the carrier's chances of successfully detaching the little one?~

~It's never been studied,~ Mirage made an effort to give her a sense of the order of events and how long before sockets existed that 'natural' reproduction had been phased out by all but the Seekers. ~Seekers might have known, but Tread Bolt doesn't, and I'd be shocked if Shimmerfire does,~ once again he provided their true designations, both sound and glyph and it's full content along with the English translations.

Alicia turned so that she could physically see both of their optics.

~It absolutely should be studied. This is about the survival of your kind. I have spent my entire career trying to help ecosystems recover so that species at risk for extinction have a fighting chance. Don't think for a second that I wouldn't do the same for you in a more personal way.~

She felt a wash of affection from both of them.

~You do realize that this will make the three of us Perceptor's guinea pigs,~ Hound chuckled. ~Not that there will be a lack of bonded mechs trying when Prime makes up his mind. I believe there are four pairs already here, and several more that may well bond with the news.~

~So am I going to regret this when I meet Perceptor?~ she laughed inwardly. ~Besides ... babies. You both already know I want babies. I just didn't realize that I might not have to be the one who is pregnant.~

~You do understand that unless you are one of the extremely rare individuals that time doesn't affect, you won't see even the first one out of the 'newborn' stage,~ Mirage said softly. ~Between the vorn before being put in a frame and the one to three hundred it will take to finish upgrading to an adult.~

~Ay! Quit reminding me of my mortality, love! Once a day is enough. Of course I know that. But I can imagine. Besides, I like newborns. And I fully plan to have a few of my own one day that I _can_ see become adults.~

Mirage lifted a hand to stroke her back affectionately, a small apology drifting between them without words. ~That will be an interesting time,~ he mused to her, a mixture of humor and distress in the memories he shared about previous sockets having young and when Hound brought home 'tiny' animals, like puma, to keep.

Alicia leaned into his touch, letting him know wordlessly with a brush of affection through their connection that apologies were not necessary.

~So would this be the time to mention to you that I'd like to bring my cat here. I mean, it doesn't seem fair that I'm the only one in our quarters without a pet.~

She waited for Mirage's reaction with amusement and wasn't disappointed.

His optics went wide with shock, then Hound burst out laughing behind them.

Then he gently probed her mind, trying to determine if she was serious. He'd agree, but only if she _really_ wanted the optic-sized creature.

~Unfortunately I am, love. I wasn't kidding when I said how much I love the little guy. He is old and doesn't have too much time left. He won't do much more than find a warm spot to sleep on ... hopefully not you.~

She felt him make a point of passing the request to his bonded, who nodded.

~I'll do what I can to expedite the paperwork,~ Hound promised through Mirage.

~As will I,~ Mirage promised, though his had a distinct feel of being less than legal.

~Given it is a predator, even an old one, it will be required to be contained at all times to protect the local wildlife,~ Hound added. ~Either in our quarters or in a specially prepared area outside.~

Alicia was truly grateful. Simba had been her companion sense since she had graduated from high school, fifteen years ago now. But she also felt a deep sense of guilt for what she had asked ... for just a little cat that would not likely live more than a year or two.

~I wouldn't dream of letting a cat outdoors in a sensitive area like this. I feel horridly selfish even asking. It's just that I had planned on going back home once the survey was over, and obviously, I'm not planning on that any longer. If you think it is too much, I truly understand. It's not like my mama doesn't take good care of him.~

~It is not to much to ask, Alicia,~ Mirage assured her, his finger coming up to stroke her face gently. ~I did not promise to indulge your every desire lightly. If it can be done, it will be.~

Alicia threw her arms around Mirage's neck from where she sat perched on his shoulder, fighting back tears.

~Privacy?~ he offered with a glyph-thought of turning invisible.

~Please, and we should go soon. I don't really need to see this movie, do you? Would it be horribly rude for us to go?~

~No, it is fine,~ he promised her and activated his EM disruptor. Though it produced no really noticeable difference to her perception, through Mirage's awareness and the reaction of those around them she knew when they disappeared. His hand curled around her to brace her as he smoothly walked out of the building and towards their quarters.


	12. Hunting Pleasure 3: Miles Lancaster

**Fandom:** Transformers Bayverse (POV'verse)  
**Author:** gatekat and femme4jack on LJ  
**Pairing:** Jazz/Prowl, Prowl/Miles Lancaster  
**Rating:** NC-17 for mech/male  
**Codes:** Slash, Xeno (Transformer/Human)  
**Summary:** With the unmitigated disaster of Amy's last visit too fresh in his processors, Prowl has decided to take the initiative in finding a socket in his own way.  
**Notes:** Written in the Point of View fanverse (community .livejournal .com/tf_matrix)  
**Timing:** After Wheeljack and the alien organics arrive

* * *

****

Shades of Grey 12:

****

Hunting Pleasure 3: Miles Lancaster

* * *

** To: All unattached socket-installed organics  
From: Prowl, Autobot TIC and Chief Tactical Officer  
Subject: Seeking a socket**

I am interested in speaking with potential sockets who are ready to consider being claimed if we find each other agreeable.

Requirements:  
Status: Unclaimed  
Species: Unimportant  
Gender: Unimportant  
Specialty: Unimportant  
Other: Must not be afraid of or antagonistic towards Prowl or Jazz. We are a bonded couple.

Any interested organics please respond to this message.

Prowl

Miles was hooked into his laptop through the socket connection, surfing the web with his eyes closed. It was his day off, and he had slept in past noon, something he hadn't done since coming to Diego Garcia. He didn't have any plans other than perhaps to find Blue, Sam or maybe Mik, or just hang out on the beach.

He was surprised and amused when a new message appeared in what he jokingly called his headmail, and enjoyed 'typing' his reply mentally. He was thoroughly digging all the possibilities of the new technology connected with his brain, including seeing Prowl's Cybertronian designation-glyph and getting a HUD-like translation to 'Prowl'. After a heart to heart with Sam following Miles' little epiphany at movie night of just what the energy sharing was about, the other side of the tech had been on his mind continuously for a couple of weeks. He had already given his input on the orientation process and was happy to know that the changes had already been planned. There were enough people regularly sharing on base that the details of the process needed to be stated outright so others didn't feel deceived or in the dark. Experience and knowledge of human psychology had led to the early stage more one-to-one approach, but that was now well past.

Miles had offered to share with Bluestreak, but his friend was totally distressed by the idea, and he had soon enough learned why. He had no idea whether Prowl or Jazz would find him remotely interesting or not, but he wasn't shy, and didn't mind trying. They were certainly fascinating to him.

With that in mind, he sent a message back to Prowl.

** To: Prowl, Autobot TIC and Chief Tactical Officer  
From: Lancaster, Miles (Communications Technician and Interspecies Social Events Coordinator)  
Subject: Re: Seeking a socket**

Hey Prowl,  
I got your message. I've talked to Sam quite a bit and am really interested in at least experiencing what this socket thing is all about. I understand the claiming bit, too. He and Bee explained it. Doesn't seem like something that should be rushed, but that doesn't mean I'm against the idea.

So if you two would be interested in getting to know me better, I'm always up for new friends. I'm a social kind of dude.

Miles Lancaster

The reply was less than five seconds later.

** To: Lancaster, Miles (Communications Technician and Interspecies Social Events Coordinator)  
From: Prowl, Autobot TIC and Chief Tactical Officer  
Subject: Re: Seeking a socket**

I am agreeable to meeting with you. I also agree that it is not to be rushed. When would you be available to talk face to face?

Prowl

Miles smiled at the swift, professional response.

** To: Prowl, Autobot TIC and Chief Tactical Officer  
From: Lancaster, Miles (Communications Technician and Interspecies Social Events Coordinator)  
Subject: Re: Seeking a socket**

I am off today and do not have any plans. I was just about to got to the beach, but am open to anything.

Miles Lancaster

Two seconds later the reply came.

** To: Lancaster, Miles (Communications Technition and Interspecies Social Events Coordinator)  
From: Prowl, Autobot TIC and Chief Tactical Officer  
Subject: Re: Seeking a socket**

I have an appointment I must begin preparations for at 16:45. Until then, the beach is agreeable. I will arrive at your location in approximately 3.4 minutes.

Prowl

** To: Prowl, Autobot TIC and Chief Tactical Officer  
From: Lancaster, Miles (Communications Technition and Interspecies Social Events Coordinator)  
Subject: Re: Seeking a socket**

Awesome. Looking forward to it. See ya in a few.

Miles Lancaster

Miles suddenly felt a bit nervous. Was Jazz going to be there as well? He felt completely comfortable around Jazz, and had a feeling it had been Jazz's idea for him to take the position as the base's interspecies social events coordinator, even if Prowl had been the one to offer him the position via email shortly after he'd arrived on base. He wasn't sure what he would have in common with the highly professional TIC. But, he was not one to normally let nerves get in the way of a new experience. If anything, it would simply be cool to get a chance to talk with another Autobot. Maybe Prowl would have some ideas for what he could plan next for the base.

His mind was still going a million miles an hour when the white police car drove up and opened its passenger side door. "Hello, Miles."

Miles smiled broadly, his mood settling on his usual laid back and happy, climbed in and sat down. "Hey Prowl. Good to see you again. How you been doin'?"

"Acceptable," he replied and rolled forward, returning to the roads that would take them towards Simpson Point, not the closer Eclipse Point. "Yourself?"

"Oh, pretty acceptable myself," he smiled. "Great, actually. I'm loving my job - both of them, finally caught up with Sam and Bee, and I'm getting a chance to talk with you. I've wanted to thank you for giving me the social coordinator position. Sam, Bee, Bluestreak and Mikaela have been helping me come up with ideas that we hope will be a success, and folks really seem to be enjoying the new rec room." Miles was babbling, and stopped himself.

"That is good. I have heard from Jazz that it is very popular with the mechs on base and you are doing an excellent job," Prowl told him. Even though his voice didn't seem to reflect the words, even Miles knew enough to recognize Prowl high praise when he heard it. The mech didn't say anything nice if he didn't mean it and have the statistics to back it up.

Miles grinned at the compliment.

"So, did you get a lot of responses to your email? It was refreshingly direct, to tell you the truth."

"You were the second," Prowl answered. "A socket relationship benefits from honesty. I calculated no advantage to making it difficult for those who are not interested to determine that."

"I'm really glad the dudes are enjoying the rec room," he commented, "because I am, too. Best sort of job, doing something you love and that just fits who you are. I'm surprised I'm only the second response, to be honest, though you made it clear that you want someone who is willing to consider being claimed. I imagine that part could freak some people out, or at least be misunderstood. I know Sam sure did. But it is really amazing to watch them, how they can interact and communicate now that Bee has claimed him. They always had such a great connection, but now...totally amazing. Honestly, I see that, and it is something I want, at least someday if I is seems right."

"I expect you will, since you want to. There are many mechs coming in the next few vorns, at least two of whom need several organics at a time. Teletran 1, the large ship that Wheeljack arrived with, is similar. She does not transform, but she does have a spark like those who do."

"That's what I've been hearing," he said. "The idea of a living ship, or living cities, it has to be the coolest things I've ever heard of ever since I learned there were living vehicles wanting to protect my world. So do you and Jazz always share a socket, since you are bonded? I'm not quite sure I understand how that works."

"Since it is customary to share quarters with one's sockets, it does work out that way eventually whether we have one or more. Too much tension between a socket and one bonded is extremely stressful for all involved. It is best avoided. As Jazz has not had his typical 'luck' in finding a socket that finds me agreeable, it seemed time that I put out an effort to find one."

Miles smiled at the explanation.

"Dude, I imagine we humans add multiple complications to the equation. Our relationships are complicated enough to begin with, and over half of even the ones that are supposed to be the most committed don't work out. You could teach us something, you know, with your bonding, at least the way Bee has described it to me. My dad left us when I was really young, didn't pay a cent to help and didn't want anything to do with my sister or me. I swore that when I committed to someone, it would be for good. I never want to do what he did to anyone."

"If non-sockets could bond, then we could indeed teach you, but it is not possible according to Ratchet," Prowl explained easily as they left the developed part of the base. "A great deal has to do with the fact that when we bind our spark to another we literally trade part of our life energy for part of our bonded's. All secrets are laid bare, even those you don't remember yourself. It is also rare for a bonded mech to last more than a few vorns longer than their bonded. While not the instant death many speak of, few recover from the loss enough to stop fading. If Jazz had not been resurrected, I would have seen the war out, ensured that Prime had a new Head Tactician trained and allowed it to happen. The bond with a claimed socket is not so intense, but it is still very painful to loose for all involved."

Miles let Prowl's words sink in. He was still in awe of the fact that Jazz had been dead and had come back (and Sam and Optimus, too for that matter).

"Dude, then his resurrection is even more a cause to celebrate, because is would totally suck to watch you fade away. I'm still totally in awe when I think of Jazz, Optimus and especially Sam coming back. Dude's been my best friend since I was in kindergarten. Sometimes I just have to hug the guy, make sure he is really there when I think of everything that has happened to him the last couple years."

He was quiet for several moments, watching the scenery go by.

"You know ... so many human problems, whether they are between lovers or nations, are 'cause we don't really communicate, you know? We think we are, but there is so much people are hiding, so many times they say the stuff they think people want to hear or they think makes them look good instead of the truth. The way you do it ... well ... it just makes a lot of sense. It's a pity, really, that we don't have sparks the way you do." Miles leaned further back in the seat, feeling totally relaxed. "So were you and Jazz sort of an opposites attract sort of deal, or do you have more in common underneath the exterior than people would guess?"

"We do have more in common than most assume, though to say we are opposites in most ways is accurate," Prowl told him as the beach and water came into view. "Our relationship has been a very long and complex one, and we both changed a great deal before we bonded. The Jazz I first met has little in common with the mech I bonded to, and though most would argue it, I have changed as much. I believe you have a saying ... an unstoppable force and an immovable object. Mutual destruction is only potential result when such encounter each other.

"Jazz and I destroyed each other, but in the process we rebuilt each other to perfectly complement the other," he attempted to explain a processes he was still amazed and slightly confused about.

"That sounds like an amazing story, dude. One I'd really like to hear all the way through, if you two would be willing to tell it. You make it sound almost epic...Shakespearean, but with a good ending."

"If you become our socket, you will definitely hear the bulk of it," Prowl said seriously. "It is an important part of how and why we are."

Prowl stopped by the nicest sandy beach on the island and opened his passenger door, and Miles quickly hopped out and stood back.

"I'm sure you have seen amazing sights, Prowl. But I just can't get enough of looking at the ocean and listening to the waves. It always calms me down ... makes me realize I'm not the center of the universe, reminds me to not take myself very seriously, you know?"

The mech transformed and sat down next to him in the warm sand. "I cannot say that I do," he admitted evenly. "There is only one moment where I have the sensation of being so important, and it would be inappropriate not to feel that way during a spark-merge with one's bonded."

"Wow, I can only imagine that is a moment when it would be just fine to feel like the center of the universe, probably impossible not to."

Miles sat and watched the waves for a few moments, trying to get up his courage. Finally, he asked. "So Prowl, how is it that you and Jazz will go about deciding who is a good match for you? Do you try connecting with a potential socket, and see if the chemistry works? Or do you get to know them first without connecting? I'm not sure how this is supposed to work. I haven't connected with anyone yet. No one has asked me to, and it didn't feel right simply offering ... though I did with Blue when he was having a rough time, it just wasn't what he wanted."

Prowl considered him, and the answer, for longer than usual.

"It would be nice if it were that simple," he gave the young human a faint, barely-there smile. "We must judge as we do all relationships; with time, interaction and exploration. Eliminating a potential socket is far easier than being sure you have selected the right one. In the end, there is, as Jazz puts it, a leap of faith involved.

"There are advantages over human-human efforts, since we are capable of plugging directly to each other's processors and memory banks. With a willing participant and knowledge of yourself, it is easier to understand another. At a glance at an organic's mind I can know if one is unlikely to do well with us, whether it be personality, history, sexual issues or an issue with one of us they did not wish to bring up. I have learned to trust Jazz's judgment in this over my own battle computer, however. He understands people and emotions far better than I ever will.

"It is important to us that our socket is happy. I can ensure physical and intellectual needs are met, frequently better than Jazz can, but for their emotional state we are largely dependent on him."

Prowl paused again, and considered Miles steadily. "Has Bluestreak told you what happened to the organic who would have been his first socket?"

"He explained that his friend was killed when his city was destroyed, and it helped me to understand a lot of what was going on with him and with our friendship. I think he has his sights set on a gal named Cathy in salvage. She is terrific, though he is moving very slowly with her, probably far too slow for her tastes. He is very reluctant to take energy from anyone at this point ... too many painful memories, I guess. Said he still has a bit of time before it becomes dangerous for him, though, something like a couple of years or so, I think."

"Ratchet and I would disagree with his sense of timing, but you have the important points correct," Prowl nodded slightly. "It is good that he is trying, however slowly," he added with a flicker of emotion reaching his vocalizer. "If you are interested in experiencing what sharing energy with a mech is like, there are a few I trust who would be quite willing to show you."

Miles looked up at Prowl sitting next to him and smiled. "Yeah, I am. Really interested. It seems like most of the bots I've heard about, other than Bee and Ironhide are choosing women to share with. It made me wonder if there is a natural preference in that direction, or just that human women are more comfortable then men with the whole idea. It took me awhile to get over my initial reaction, that's for sure, and I bat for both teams."

Prowl paused, nudging his bonded for his opinion before responding.

"Jazz believes it is a combination of women being more comfortable with penetration, they are more socially adaptable and find the idea of giving life and being a caretaker far more appealing than most males. A few mechs have strong preferances, but it is not common. Not all socket races even have gender as you understand it."

"That totally makes sense, and explains why men who are bi like me, or gay might have an easier time of it - at least the penetration part. Sam and I did some fooling around when we were younger, but we've never talked about how he identifies sexually - probably Bee-sexual at this point." Miles laughed. "I practically raised my little sister after Dad left, and took care of my mom way more than was probably healthy for a kid, so maybe that explains why the caretaker part of it really appeals to me. I know I had a strong instinct to want to take care of Blue when he was hurting."

"The desire to care for others is an admirable trait," Prowl told him honestly. "Here," he motioned behind him, towards the base. "You will find an entire island of people that have all been severely traumatized by war in one way or another. Some are more willing to admit it and seek comfort than others. Your efforts to provide entertaining distractions have already done some good. I expect it will do much more in the coming vorns.

"Have you put any serious thought into what kind of person you would want to spend your life with?" Prowl regarded him curiously.

Miles gave Prowl a questioning look. "You mean as far as humans go? I know I come across as sort of a fun loving, never settle down type, but honestly, I want to be with someone. I really don't care if its a man or a woman. I want someone who wants stability and wants to have kids - adopted or biological. I definitely want to be a dad. The commitment thing is important to me cause of my dad. I'm not afraid to commit. When I become a friend, it's a friend for life - Sam could treat me like crap sometimes and I always forgave him. There is this theory I learned in psych class that people tend to look for mates that help them resolve unresolved things from their childhoods, but if you don't realize that consciously, it causes all sorts of shit to happen in you relationship. I tend to be attracted to guys who are more serious and quiet than I am. I've thought that maybe it was because my dad was so volatile, so I look for the opposite in men. I'm a feeler, and intuitive, so I need someone who is more grounded and can help me face the facts. In women, honestly, I've mostly been attracted to the fun loving types who are more like me - laid back, fun loving, playful. Going by the same theory, I'd say its because my mom was _so_ serious and emotional all the time after Dad left. Virginian and I were constantly trying to get her to let go and have some fun. So yeah...I guess you can say I've thought about it a lot."

Prowl gave him a faint smile. "I've spent much of my life 'grounding' Jazz. I'm quite familiar with the need for balance and how to maintain it in a free spark. Though having two of you might be more than my logic circuits can cope with."

Miles gave a hearty laugh at that comment. "Yeah, I can see that that, dude. I'm enough to trip up anyone's logic circuit on my own. So how 'bout you and Jazz? What do you look for in a socket? I imagine finding one or more who fit well with both of you is a bit...complicated."

Throughout the conversation, Miles had been playing with the sand, covering up his feet and then wiggling his toes free. A small crab scuttled by and he picked it up in his hand to get a better look.

"Ocypode pallidula, the pallid ghost crab," Prowl told him without thinking. "A generally social individual with a strong sex drive, a propensity to share with whoever needs it and the ability to deal with me."

Miles looked closer at the small white crab and touched it with one finger before putting it down and watching it scuttle back underneath the sand. He lay back on the warm sand with his arms behind his head, feeling relaxed and enjoying the conversation. He was learning a lot, and for some reason it was easy to ramble on to Prowl without feeling self conscious about it.

"Just deal with you? It seems like you would want a socket who would like you, who would enjoy talking with you and stuff." Miles looked over at Prowl's somewhat rigid posture and gave him a warm smile.

"I like you, Prowl. At least, the little I know about you. You are easy to talk with; you don't seem to judge quickly. I know that you have to be the heavy in your job, enforcing the rules and stuff, but you seem really fair. I'd rather have someone who can be fair and look at stuff logically doing what you do that someone who is all emotional like me."

The faint smile widened a little. "Thank you, Miles. Yes, it is pleasant when a socket likes me, however it has not proven common enough to be a criteria. Like with most mechs, tolerance is the most I actually expect, respect for my rank from fellow Autobots is all I demand. Unlike with other mechs, I cannot afford to be too demanding. I can exist without another mech in my life. I cannot exist long without a socket. We give pleasure and receive another vorn of life. Anything more is at the socket's pleasure."

Miles found himself wondering if he dared touch the mech next to him. There was something sad about his willingness to simply be tolerated by what was the source of his very life. It made him want to touch him; to show some sort of affection, even if it was simply a hand on the strong armor covered arm or leg. Miles was affectionate with everyone, but could he be with Prowl? Would Prowl tolerate that, or even enjoy it?

Prowl seemed to respect the direct approach, so he decided to simply ask.

"So Prowl, I'm sort of the cuddly type. Do you let your potential socket candidates touch you? I personally would like to be able to touch the mech I'd be potentially giving life to. And I'd want to like him, which I do. You won't hurt my feelings if you say no ... to either the cuddly part of the potential socket part. I'm easy going and don't get hurt very easily."

"Yes, I permit touch," he answered quietly, his full focus on Miles now. "I expect you have seen how much Jazz touches me? The only difference in the rules between him and our sockets, potential or claimed, is a practical one. He is physically capable of forcing the issue."

Miles grinned and sat up, scooting over to lean against Prowls side, his hand resting on the mech's large leg. He enjoyed the feeling of the heat against his palm, the vibrations of internal mechanisms he could hear and feel with his ear against his side.

He looked up at slightly flicking sensor wings, much more still than Bluestreak's, subtle in how they displayed his feelings.

"Would you want to ... connect with me Prowl? I'm totally curious, and would like to share energy with you. Or do you usually not hook up to energizer bunnies on the first date?" Miles asked playfully.

He felt and heard more than saw what was likely every plate in Prowl's armor shift as his wings snapped out and up a bit before his head moved. Only a bit of a startled expression remained by the time he faced Miles, shifting close to his normally neutral one with a bit of internal debate.

"If you wish," Prowl eventually decided and snaked a cable out from his wrist. "I am not one of the more tactile mechs," he added by way of warning. "Jazz, on the other hand, likes to touch everyone."

Miles felt his heart begin to race, anticipating his first connection. He was actually glad it would be a less tactile one, giving him a chance to simply feel the connection through the interface that Sam had described to him as touching everything without touching anything at all.

"I'm happy to simply experience this through the cable, Prowl. From what Bee and Sam have explained to me, that in itself is far more powerful than anything humans experience with other humans. You don't have to touch me, I won't feel bad."

Miles touched the cable and then ran his hand along it with curiosity.

"Do you plug it in, or do I?" he asked.

"It is generally considered polite to allow the socket to make the connection," Prowl explained. "A physical indication of consent with a species that is entirely too capable of forcing it."

Miles hand was shaking a bit in anticipation as he pulled the end of the cable to the back of his neck, while his other hand clenched where it lay against Prowl's leg. He took a breath to steady himself, looked up again the optics that were calmly regarding him. He wondered if he could properly attach it, but it simply connected itself as soon as he brought it into contact with the socket on his neck. He let out a gasp of surprise at the sudden connection. He could not have described what was different, but suddenly everything was ... somehow different, as though he had a different level of awareness. He closed his eyes, wondering what would come next.

A low thrum of energy rumbled down his spine, cascading outwards with the nerves, until it felt like his entire body was being caressed. He knew it wasn't, but it was the only thing he could compare it to. Stronger currents of pleasure tingled in his ass, his cock, along his throat and over his heart.

"Shit," he whispered. "That feels ... completely amazing." He could on some level feel Prowl's awareness, feel him experiencing the very pleasure that was tingling through his body. He wondered if he needed to speak aloud, so he simply thought. ~Do I just sit here and enjoy this, or what do I do to reciprocate? How do I give back to you?~

He felt a quickly suppressed flash of fear, guilt and shame, then a deadening of the connection in general before Prowl responded. ~Simply relax and enjoy. More can come after, if we choose each other.~

Miles shuddered as another strong pulse traveled through his body, unhindered by whatever restrictions Prowl had put in place. He opened his eyes and stared the optics above him that had taken on a far different look, his own eyes smoldering with desire as his hand unzipping his fly and reaching in to release a suddenly very hard cock which he took in his hand.

He felt the momentary reaction and looked with Prowl with concern, but suddenly found himself moaning again as more jolts of pleasure traveling all over his body, as though unearthly sensuous hands were touching _everywhere_. He moaned, and began to pump his own cock even as the caresses touched every nerve within it and tingled his ass in just the right place. He knew that he would not be able to hold on long.

Miles heart swelled with gratitude on top of the bliss coursing though his body, and tried to send that gratitude back toward the stoic mech, who suddenly did not seem nearly so stoic. His mind whispered, ~this is amazing, even more amazing that I thought it would be.~

~Good,~ Prowl's calmness caressed his awareness. ~Like with any lover, experience makes it better. We learn what works the best for you, and you will learn what works for your mech.~

The pulses of pleasure sped up, and Miles lost the ability to think consciously, became only aware of his body and the feelings moving through it fast and faster. His mind began to interpret the feelings in stunning visual fantasies, his cock thrusting madly into a warm, wet, curvy and sensuous woman whose face he did not recognize, while his ass was completely filled with a hard, hot cock. He had no idea if it was his own mind that created the fantasies or something Prowl was feeding to him; at this point it didn't matter.

His orgasm hit him hard and he groaned as his cock spurted his load onto the sand between his spread legs He moaned and leaned closer into Prowl, his breath coming in hitched gasps as the spasms in his ass and cock slowed.

"Damn," he whispered. "You may have just ruined me forever for plain old fashioned human sex."

"It is true that few sockets chose a mate of their own kind, though some still do," he said gently, his hand supporting the lean human as he recovered. "If you wish children, it is helpful to still enjoy their attention. Of course, if she is also a socket, you can do many of the same things with her as with a mech. There are cables that go between two sockets, with or without a mech being involved."

Miles couldn't help it. He grinned like a maniac at Prowl's description. "Dude, this has got to be the most fucking fantastic invention ever. I can't believe I was ever in doubt about it." He leaned into the hand that was supporting him and gave it an affectionate caress. "Prowl, that was totally amazing. I mean...whether or not you and Jazz are interested in me, what you just did...thank you, man. I mean it."

"You are welcome, Miles," Prowl gave him a small smile. "A pleasant first experience does make intimacy easier in the future."

Miles got up and walked down to the water, and washed himself off without embarrassment. After putting himself back together, he walked back to Prowl and sat down, leaning against his side and tracing a gentle pattern against his leg armor. For a while, he simply looked out at the ocean and listening to the waves.

"I think you deserve people who like you and don't just put up with you Prowl. There are so many humans here ... you shouldn't settle for anything less. I just kind of feel sad thinking about you having a socket who simply puts up with you, you know? Just doesn't seem right."

"Perhaps I will have one this time," Prowl said simply. "It would be a welcome change, though the fact that Jazz is having a very difficult time picking out a suitable human does not bode well for it. Given how different Jazz and I are, finding one who can cope with both of us is difficult enough without expecting them to like me."

"Can I ask what the issues have been? Maybe I'm being naive, but it just seems that being with both of you would be twice as good ... two such different mechs, so much to be curiuos about and learn about ... getting to watch how you are together. I mean, that sounds totally amazing."

Prowl considered him. "It is a rare individual who finds both Jazz's spontaneous, social nature and my reserved, quiet one appealing for any length of time. Many have found it fascinating or exciting for a few decades, even a vorn or two. What has usually created the problem is when Jazz goes on an extended mission and the socket does not have him to be a distraction from my ... excessive focus on my duties during such times."

Miles thought for a moment. "I can see how that would be hard ... I could see even a pretty secure human getting a bit ... lonely and needy. But your focus on your duties is just part of who you are ... and how you cope when he is gone, right? Does having a socket there help you deal with his absence ... or just make it harder?"

"Yes, it is how I cope," he inclined his head in a slight nod. "Without him I revert to the more natural, more comforting, patterns of behavior that I was created with and try not to miss him quiet so badly. The truth is that if it were not for Jazz, I would never claim a socket. There have always been those willing to share with those in need, especially high-ranking officers. There are provisions to reward such sockets and their mechs, if they have one. I would have easily existed within that system."

"Really? I didn't know about the sharing part of it ... or is that why Sam has been spending much time with Optimus, too? He doesn't talk much about it, and Bee seems a little conflicted about the whole thing. No ... wait ... don't answer that. It really isn't my business, and Sammy and Bee can tell me if they want to."

Miles smiled and crawled up onto Prowls lap. "Does Jazz ever take his socket with him on missions? Or is it just too dangerous?"

Prowl was stiffly cautious of every tiny move he might make with the human now in his lap, but didn't remove him. "He's doesn't reject the idea completely, however no socket has ever had the skills to do so. It would be dangerous to him as well as the socket if they could not hold their own on the mission."

Miles noticed how stiff Prowl suddenly was ... even more so than his usual posture. He turned around and looked at him, and smiled broadly.

"Pushed the cuddling thing a little to far, didn't I, dude?" He laughed. "Sorry ... am used to being a human sized lap cat for Blue or even Bee in year's past. I even get into Sam or Mik's lap, but they just shove me off. I kind of forget that not everyone is ready to just have a person crawl up into their lap ... even after what we just shared. Should I get back down?"

He watched Prowl struggle with the question for a split second, which for a bot was a _very_ long time, and nod.

"Please," Prowl's voice was strained. "It is not the cuddling. I do not trust my own protection protocols at the moment."

"No prob dude," Miles gave him affectionate pat and then slid back down to his side, leaning against him again while he played with the sand. "Did somethin' happen ... that you don't trust your protocols? I mean ... you seem like about the most careful bot I know."

Prowl nodded slightly. "The last time Jazz brought a potential socket by, I lost control. Frightening her was bad enough, but then I did something ... she could have been killed. The protocols are supposed to prevent both from happening, and failed rather spectacularly."

Miles put his hand on Prowl with a concerned look on his face. "That must have sucked big time ... for all of you. No wonder you're being so careful. As awesome as sharing with you was...I could tell you were holding back ... or at least holding me back...it was like there was all this energy that had nowhere to go but back to me. Not that I'm complaining or anything. Have you had Ratchet look at the coding?"

"Yes," he said quietly. "There is nothing he can fix. Nothing wrong, as far as he could find. He said it was because I was relaxed around her, that I'd already found her agreeable enough to want her. Once bonded, our systems would have recognized her as part of us, and not a threat. Because she wasn't, it was only because Jazz could keep control that she did not end up a smear of blood and shattered flesh on my desk."

"Dude ... I'm so sorry. That must really put a damper on things for you and Jazz, at least where a socket is concerned. Do you think she'd want to be claimed by you ... or bond or whatever you call it? Or did she get too scared?"

"Claimed," Prowl said. "Fear didn't seem to be a deciding factor. She said flat out that she did not want to be claimed, and definitely not by a mech. Jazz still has hope he can change her mind. I am not so sure."

"Well, it is important for people not make commitments lightly. We sure learned that in my family. My dad married my mom because she was pregnant with me. Not a good reason ... only led to pain for all of us. If you have to convince her ... maybe she isn't the right person. A person really needs to want this ... more than just the sex part of it. A lot of people who get married think it is all about the sex, and when that part isn't great, they jump ship. I think the point of getting married is to care for someone else as much or more than you care for yourself ... sex is just a benefit. I guess ... if I ever was claimed ... I'd look at it the same way."

Prowl nodded. "You view it the best way," he gave the young human a small, honest smile. "Normally I would not mind the vorns it might take Jazz to find and court who he wants. With what happened, I do not dare risk accepting energy with my bonded around until we are ready to claim someone. I no longer have the vorns he may take."

"So you need to claim someone soon, so you can accept energy safely for you and the human? How long do you have?"

"A month before Jazz pressures me to reconsider, three vorns before he looses his patience, seven before Ratchet intervenes," he answered. "Between two hundred and fifty and five hundred and eighty years."

Miles started laughing. He just couldn't help it. "Dude ... I'm sorry ... I'm not making light of the situation. I know that is a pathetically short amount of time for you, but you could like pick one of my great great great grandchildren or something before it's too late. I was thinking you only like weeks or something."

"I would like to have someone to focus his attention on that soon," Prowl admitted, unperturbed by the reaction. He was all too aware of the differences in temporal perception. "The sooner he is focused on someone who finds me and being claimed at least somewhat agreeable the sooner the tension between us will smooth. It is not a pleasant thing, to have a person who is always in your spark and mind be at odds with you."

Miles smiled at him. "Well, yeah, that would be way worse than getting the silent treatment. I didn't realize it was causing that much tension between the two of you ... but it makes sense."

"It hasn't yet. This is not the first time we have had issues, it will not be the last. The behavior pattern is predictable to a point," Prowl explained. "The tension will come."

"So Prowl, I'm gonna make the case for Miles Lancaster to you. You should totally pick me. I'm laid back, I accept people as they are, I like you and could totally accept you as you are, cause that is just what I do. Best of all, I'm independent and I self entertain, so you aren't gonna have some sulky socket when Jazz is gone. I'd just figure out other ways to have fun and be there when you needed me to. There, how is that for a resume? Will you consider me for the job? And if you don't, think about one of my great great great grandchildren, cause I'm sure they will totally rock."

"You have made a good case for yourself," Prowl smiled down the young human, so mature for his physical age. "We will consider you," he reached out to very lightly slide the back of a clawed finger along Miles' cheek. "Perhaps _I_ will consider you, even if he has other plans. The effect would be similar enough."

Miles smiled broadly at the statement and the touch. "Now that I take as a high compliment. I'll look forward to the interview process, boss." He leaned in with affection and grinned brightly up at the thoughtful, still guarded optics above him.

The smile extended a little more, and Miles thought that maybe Prowl relaxed a bit.

"Do you wish to remain on the beach, or ride with me back to base or Eclipse point?" Prowl offered.

Miles grinned back. Seeing Prowl relax ... a little ... had been one of his goals, if he had actually considered his goals beyond the adventure of getting to talk with a mech he hadn't spoken with much and who was activity seeking a socket.

"I'm getting hungry, so base would be good, and you have somewhere to be soon, right?"

Prowl nodded and stood, stepped away before transforming and opening his passenger side door.

Miles got in, leaned back and relaxed, his hand absentmindedly caressing the seat beside him.

"Glad you emailed, Prowl. It was a really nice way to spend my day off."


	13. Hunting Pleasure 4: Katie Benson

**Fandom:** Transformers Bayverse (POV'verse)  
**Author:** gatekat and fallentaiyoko on LJ  
**Pairing:** Jazz/Prowl  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Codes:** Slash, Het, Xeno (Transformer/Human)  
**Summary:** With the unmitigated disaster of Amy's last visit too fresh in his processors, Prowl has decided to take the initiative in finding a socket for them in his own way.  
**Notes:** Written in the Point of View fanverse (community .livejournal .com/tf_matrix)  
**Timing:** After Wheeljack and the alien organics arrive

* * *

****

Shades of Grey 13:

****

Hunting Pleasure 4: Katie Benson

* * *

** To: All unattached socket-installed organics  
From: Prowl, Autobot TIC and Chief Tactical Officer  
Subject: Seeking a socket**

I am interested in speaking with potential sockets who are ready to consider being claimed if we find each other agreeable.

Requirements:  
Status: Unclaimed  
Species: Unimportant  
Gender: Unimportant  
Specialty: Unimportant  
Other: Must not be afraid of or antagonistic towards Prowl or Jazz. We are a bonded couple.

Any interested organics please respond to this message.

Prowl

Intrigued a bit by the email sent base-wide, Katie couldn't help but take a moment from her work to type out a reply:

** To: Prowl, Autobot TIC and Chief Tactical Officer  
From: WO1 Benson, Finance  
Subject: Re: Seeking a socket**

What do you consider "antagonistic"?

****

To: WO1 Benson, Finance  
From: Prowl, Autobot TIC and Chief Tactical Officer  
Subject: Re: Seeking a socket

Antagonism: Opposition of a conflicting force, tendency, or principle. Actively expressed opposition or hostility.

I expect our socket to get along well with both of us on a day to day basis for life. Conflict is inevitable, however the ability to discuss it intelligently with us to resolve the issue is expected.

****

To: Prowl, Autobot TIC and Chief Tactical Officer  
From: WO1 Benson, Finance  
Subject: Re: Seeking a socket

Quite a reasonable expectation. I ask simply because there are some people who consider the occasional sarcasm or good-natured teasing as 'antagonistic' when it wasn't the intention.

****

To: WO1 Benson, Finance  
From: Prowl, Autobot TIC and Chief Tactical Officer  
Subject: Re: Seeking a socket

I am bonded to Jazz and deal with Sunstreaker and Sideswipe daily. I am entirely too familiar with the distinction. When are you available to meet with me to discuss this face to face?

****

To: Prowl, Autobot TIC and Chief Tactical Officer  
From: WO1 Benson, Finance  
Subject: Re: Seeking a socket

I am off-duty at 1600. Any time after that is fine with me.

****

To: WO1 Benson, Finance  
From: Prowl, Autobot TIC and Chief Tactical Officer  
Subject: Re: Seeking a socket

I will pick you up outside your barracks at 17:30 and provide dinner.

As soon as Katie got off shift, she hustled back to her barracks to get ready. After a thorough shower, she had to decide what to _wear_ ... something feminine, casual, but suitable for a first date. Finally settling on a light, knee-length skirt, short-sleeved blouse, and a pair of flat sandals, she got dressed and applied a little bit of makeup. Even if standards for bots were different than those for men, she still wanted to make a good impression.

"Only a few minutes left until Prowl said he'd be here..." she said to herself as she checked her clock, taking a couple deep breaths to calm and center herself before heading outside.

True to his reputation, the white police car pulled up at 17:30 to the second and opened the passenger door for her. "Hello, Katie," he greeted her by first name.

She slid into his passenger seat, reflexively pulling the seat belt across her before it even registered that it might be something strange to do in a _sentient_ car.

"Hello, Prowl," she replied cheerily, her pulse quickened a bit by her attraction to his handsome alt-mode.

He rolled back onto the roadway, the motion smoother than any car she'd ever been in. "Are you single?" he asked with his trademark calmness.

Shifting slightly as she relaxed into his seat, she replied, "Yep. Been in a couple of relationships in the past but they just didn't work out. When I transferred here, I figured I'd just be kinda laid back about the whole dating thing and see where things went. If it's not too nosy of me to ask, how did you and Jazz get together?"

"Shortly after I was promoted to the Head Tactician of Prime's unit, I was captured by Decepticons. At the time he was working for Megatron and was assigned to break me and learn whatever of value I knew. I held out for ninety-seven orn, roughly one hundred and twelve days, before Megatron ordered me destroyed when Jazz had not broken me. Instead of following orders, he broke me out and returned me to the Autobots. He then remained with us, first as my prisoner, then a neutral, and eventually as my friend and an Autobot."

It was certainly an unusual way to meet ... the kind of story that would make an interesting movie or novel. "Pretty amazing. Take it not everybody took that well, like Red Alert?"

And damn it, now she was also trying to picture what it was like when Jazz finally broke Prowl's iron composure, like when the saboteur had decided his mate had been working too hard. A _hot_ mental image, to be sure, but probably not appropriate for so early on the first date.

Prowl actually chuckled. "No. Actually no one took it well. He had quite a reputation and it was a rare Autobot who didn't know exactly who the small silver mech was that walked around like he owned the place, even when he was supposedly in the brig. It was a very tense few hundred vorns before he actually settled in and folks started to trust him to a degree. There are still those who don't, but he's proven his loyalty to most."

"'Walked around like he owned the place,' eh? I see that some things never change, even with y'all. It almost makes me feel sorry for Red Alert," she said with an amused laugh.

"He makes himself a target with his nature," Prowl told her. "Much as I am. When you have lived as long as Jazz, excelled as he does, you do earn the right to an extent. He was far more arrogant then, though. He has become more social as he's risen in the ranks."

She nodded, thinking about how sometimes NEST needed people to be the 'voice of reason', like Prowl and Red Alert ... even if Red's security was kinda overkill, at least it was better than being ambushed in their sleep by 'Cons.

Attempting to lighten the conversation a bit as they entered the mech officer's barracks, she asked, "So, what kinds of things do you and Jazz like to do in your off-time?"

"Arguably, we don't have much," he admitted, maneuvering down the halls. "I spend it doing what everyone recognizes as work, primarily in my office, though with a socket claimed once more I will do much of that in our quarters. Jazz socializes, keeps morale up, organizes parties and all the other activities that ensure we lose as few mechs as possible to depression. The few hours we do claim off duty that are not spent in our berth are typically sparring. He enjoys music; I enjoy strategy games and reading. While I am rarely off base, Jazz frequently has missions that last months to years. I hope with the war all but over that they will be far fewer."

"Yeah, I can't imagine that'd be easy, knowing he's out there putting himself in danger. I'm not really into most strategy games myself, but a friend of mine suggested Halo Wars, and while I still suck at it, at least I understand what the hell I'm doing and how the controls work. Need to find something new to read, too, since I've read every book I have on base like ten times by now."

"It has been difficult, though once we bonded at least I always knew if he was healthy, injured or extinguished, even when he blocked everything else." Prowl took a moment to reference ' Halo Wars' and made a light vent of amusement. "I prefer games such as chess. Have you requisitioned a human sized datapad?"

"I've played some chess, but I'm not great at it or anything ... it's pretty neat to watch good players, though. And no, I haven't gotten a datapad yet. Hadn't really thought I had a need for one, but I'd probably _find_ things to do with it if I had one. Have there been any human books you've read and liked?"

"There are currently three million, nine hundred thirty six thousand, six hundred and fifty three books in English, both from Earth and Cybertron, currently available for datapad download. That number increases by an average of three thousand a day," he said as a door slid open and he pulled into a room the size of a large warehouse.

"_The Art of War_ was fascinating, especially to my tactical programming. _On the Spirit of Laws_ was quiet enlightening, both from the perspective of my own world's history and an insight into human thoughts and governments. The Bible and its multitude of predecessor and derivative works was worth the multiple trips to Ratchet it took to processes to understand as well as I do. It has influenced your species so much, even those who do not follow it or state they believe it false."

"Well, then, a datapad would be handy ... keep me from filling my entire quarters with bookshelves. I'd like to read some books from Cybertron, since it'd be nice to get a better understanding of your culture, even if I'd have to ask questions about references to things that would be considered 'common knowledge' for you. Some of the things I've read from other languages, the translators add notes for cultural references or a play on words in the original language."

"That has been done with our translations as well, both into English and into Cybertronian," Prowl said as she got out so he could transform.

Katie took the moment to check out the room. She quickly realized it was one of at least three rooms in their quarters when she spotted the two doors on the far side.

"Did you have different languages, or different dialects back on Cybertron?" she asked curiously. Though she wasn't a linguist, she had a fascination with languages and cultures.

"Many. Some are no longer understood by any but the Prime, or lost entirely when the scientists who knew them were extinguished. Most are still a living language, as you say, simply dialects of the common High Cybertronian, the language of the nobles and Primes. Each city, and both factions, has a distinct dialect and some frame language that goes with it.

"Praxis, where I am from, was predominantly inhabited by sensor-winged mechs," he motioned to the extensions coming off his back. "As such, much of our dialect requires them. The same is true of Vos, the home city of the Seekers. Both dialects have strong similarities, though they evolved independently. The strong regional accents you hear from Jazz, Ironhide, Mirage and some others are a response of their programming, their pride in their origins, to find a replacement for their dialect, their accent, in Cybertronian, when they speak English."

"That's pretty amazing. What is the function of the sensor wings in your dialect, then? Is it something that can only be done when you're face-to-face with another mech?

"When I lived in Praxis, before the war, they served to indicate mood, emphasize a point or word, signal that you were interested in someone, give basic directions ... likely everything you use your hands, body language and expressions to do. Even those without them understood the meaning from long exposure. With so few who understand even the basics, I rarely employ more than the reflexive gestures that indicate my mood now. Most Autobots have learned to recognize anger-threat, fear, pain and relaxed. Jazz, Bluestreak, Smokescreen, Ironhide, Ratchet, Prime and a few others know a wider range. "They must be visible, as with any body language, but other than that it does not need to be face to face. Visual transmission and holos work just as well.

"Are there ever conflicts between dialects that result in misinterpretation?" She asked, obviously enthralled.

"Yes, there are occasional conflicts, primarily with sensor-winged mechs who did not grow up in Praxis and did not have Praxian kin to teach them and thus invented their own dialect, largely without thinking about it. The reflexive gestures are all the same; they are part of the core programming that permits use of the sensor-wings. Anything more advanced must be learned. It rarely takes long for a misinterpretation to be sorted out, as both mechs would quickly recognize that the other was not posturing in a normal way and try to find out why."

She realized that she was all but grilling him with questions in her fascination. "I'm sorry if I'm being annoying with all these questions...it's just that languages have always kind of been a fascination for me."

"You are not annoying me," Prowl told her honestly and made the effort to show a reassuring smile. "I will inform you if I wish not to speak of something, or in general.

She felt like her heart was fluttering with that smile. "You know, you have a handsome smile," she said, resting a hand against his plating, wondering what his sensor wings were indicating for a mood, finding herself wanting to learn the subtleties.

Prowl's optics widened slightly and his sensor-wings flicked up and back a bit. "Thank you," he managed after a fraction of a second.

Although she wasn't sure if she was reading him right, she thought he looked perhaps a bit flustered by her compliment.

His plating was warm against her hand, and she suddenly realized that she could smell _human_ food cooking, some of her favorites, when she followed him into the small kitchenette open to the main room with its entertainment center, double desk and two seating areas.

Her stomach gave a bit of a hungry rumble as she followed him and smelled the steak. "Oh, that smells absolutely delicious." A good, quality steak was something that she enjoyed but only rarely indulged herself with.

"Good," Prowl smiled, manipulating the tiny bits of human food with a skill and grace she never expected in a twenty-five foot tall machine. "Your profile was less helpful than many, but it did give a few clues of what you would enjoy for dinner."

"Yeah, I'm usually pretty easygoing about what I eat for dinner, mostly used to things that were easy to cook for a family, since as soon as me and my sisters were old enough, we all helped with cooking, and laundry, and such. I'm not averse to trying new things, though."

She watched him cook, thoroughly impressed with the fact that he could handle such relatively tiny things.

"Is your family still close?" he asked as he began to plate.

"Yeah, we're still pretty close, even if it's been kind of hard to find non-classified stuff to write home about since joining NEST. It's nice to hear back from them how things are going, and Mom likes to make sure I'm still alive and all."

"If you do become a socket, will you want to introduce you family to our holoforms?" Prowl asked as he made a small plate and glass of glowing colors for himself.

"I'd like to, if you and Jazz were willing. Mom and Dad might think our relationship is kind of strange, but would ultimately be accepting as long as we're happy with it," she said as he placed both plates on the mech-sized table and lifted her up. It was only when she was standing on top that she realized that there was a human-sized table on top of it, allowing for relatively equal conversations among the two very different sized beings.

She took a seat and tried a bite of the steak. "Mm ... tastes as good as it smells."

"Thank you," he inclined his head in acceptance and picked up a glass of glowing red liquid. "How much do you know about Jazz and myself? I did not include much in my e-mail."

"Honestly, I really didn't know that much about you or Jazz until tonight except by reputation. I think the whole 'buzzkill' opinion about you is probably just spread by the whiny dumbasses who were doing something stupid and got caught, when whatever rules they were breaking were put in place for a perfectly good reason."

She paused when Prowl laughed; an honest, rich, definitely amused sound.

"It has not helped endear me to the ranks," he admitted with a definite grin in place, even if it didn't last long.

She grinned back. "The way you talk about Jazz, I can tell you really care for him, even without the obvious sign that you both chose to bond with each other."

A slow smile crept across Prowl features, a small softening of his look when he nodded. "Yes, I do. Too much at times."

"Wouldn't surprise me if at times you're as outwardly emotional as the rest of us can be, just most of us don't know how to read your sensor-wings and therefore miss it. I guess, in short, I like you, and would like to have the opportunity to get to know you and Jazz better."

Prowl considered her statements about him, more than a little impressed with her deductions and how she reached them.

"While your logic is good, your last assessment is not correct," he said evenly. He leaned back in his chair, his glass of energon encased in both hands and watched her briefly.

"There are two ways in which non-Seeker mechs are created, two paths to maturity. The first represents approximately ninety-six point three percent of pre-war numbers, and still represents close to that among Autobot ranks. A small, immature frame, a sparkling frame, is created and given a spark and life. Over the course of one hundred to three hundred vorns is receives several sets physical and programming upgrades until the final set, a spike and valve and the interface protocols to use them, are installed. It is a process not unlike how many biological races, including yours, reproduce and mature.

"The second method is how I came into existence," he paused to take a sip of his energon. "It is call pre-programmed. A full sized and typically specialized frame is constructed, uploaded with all the programming it will need to do its job, and sparked. I came on line a search and rescue and tactical mech for the Icon enforcers, something similar to a police force that includes several other emergency services as well.

"The trade off for a pre-programmed mech for knowing everything to do their job from the first orn is that one is not given any extraneous programming. In my case, that included such things as emotional subroutines, interface protocols and most social information that did not relate to predicting how an enemy force would react to any given event."

"Is it possible to have those sort of things added, though, if you wanted? Or is there always going to be a difference between any of it being added now versus having gotten it and grown up with it from a sparkling?" She thought it was kind of sad that he'd never had the chance to be a child, even by his own kind's standards.

"Yes and yes," he inclined his head and took a long sip of the shimmering energon. "As we are sparked and not drones, it is our right to expand our programming as we wish. I wondered about what those around me were experiencing about when they spoke of love, hate, frustration, joy, even respect and honor. I chose to expand my programming to include the emotional subroutines.

"It was ... painful ... for a long time as I learned to deal with them, deal with the randomness and illogic they create. That, more than the sensations themselves, were almost more than I could cope with. I managed to learn, eventually, though I still shut the process down during the worst conditions. I would leave them off, if it wouldn't deactivate me. Ratchet eventually catches on whenever I go too long without feeling and forces me to turn them back on."

"It's sometimes hard to deal with them even when you've had them your whole life. And I know I've had times when I wished I could shut off my emotions." She gave him a soft, caring smile, kind of wanting to cuddle him but not sure if it was something he'd be comfortable with.

"So Jazz, Ratchet and Prime seem to enjoy reminding me," he almost chuckled. "The difference is in the effect. Because of my battle computer, what makes me such an exceptional tactician and organizer, it will always be a little alien, something that wasn't really meant to coexist in my programming. There is always some risk of it locking my cortex with the conflict.

"Most pre-programmed who chose to have the protocols added have little more difficulty than those who always had them after a few dozen vorns, three to four thousand years, though there are always markers if you know what to look for. Mine have been in place for ... approximately one point three six million years and are as settled as they will ever be." He made a small move, bringing his hands closer to his chest and brushing the back of a thumb above the large red upside down chevron that graced it. "It has been worth it, overall. Even the pain of losing Jazz," his blue optics dimmed and seemed to almost zone out. "I would not trade the good to avoid the pain."

She smiled at the beauty of Prowl's love for Jazz. After finishing the last of her food, she went over to him, giving him a hug even if it was sort of awkward due to the size difference. Even if Jazz and Prowl decided not to choose her as a socket, she wished for them to find someone they could both be happy with.

She felt him freeze, apparently startled by her move. Very carefully, his near hand let go of his glass so the far one could put it down well away from her. Then the hand closer to her curled around her in a protective gesture as he looked down and tried to work out if it was all humans who were so unexpectedly tactile or just the ones who were inclined to talk to him.

"Please be careful around the energon," he told her almost gently. "The glowing things. It can badly damage you.

She withdrew partially from the hug, worried that such an action had been unwelcome. He didn't reject it, but he didn't exactly welcome it. "I'll be careful. And ... I'm sorry if I was out of line. It's just that hugs are a common way for us humans to show affection to people we care about."

Prowl nodded then cocked his head slightly. "How can you have become emotional attached to me so quickly?"

"It just happens that way sometimes," she said. "Probably why we have the phrase 'love at first sight'."

Prowl arched an optic ridge, his brilliant blue optics flickering momentarily as he looked the formation up and sorted through it as best he could.

"I ... see," he decided after a moment, focusing on her once more with a decidedly curious look on his features. "Jazz said a similar thing, though he knew exactly why he felt so," he murmured, gently stroking along her back and side with one finger. "Are you aware of what Jazz and I do, beyond our titles of Second and Third in Command?"

Katie leaned slightly into the stroking as she thought about how to word her thoughts.

"The way I see it, you keep everybody on base in order. Making sure bots aren't breaking the rules, everybody submits their reports and you read them to make sure people are doing what they're supposed to be doing. When there's a mission, you have to decide how many mechs and humans to send, and outline the mission parameters.

"Jazz, part of what he does is making sure he and the mechs that work with him get you the most reliable information for drawing up those mission plans. He knows how to interpret what someone is saying, and what they _aren't_ saying, how to create the most disorder among the 'Cons to give us the better advantage. And y'know, I'm damn glad he's on our side ... really, that both of you are."

She felt a warm rush of affection for both the mechs, and wondered idly if perhaps Prowl would understand hugging better if he knew the thought/emotional process behind it.

"As am I," Prowl said softly. "It was a different war when we weren't.

"You have a reasonable grasp of our duties. Those duties, and our rank, ensures we both work very long hours, several days or even weeks at a time for me. Jazz may be gone for years, centuries even, on missions where I know nothing but that he still functions and believes he can get himself back. During those missions I tend not to be available to a socket either unless I need a charge. Providing comfort or companionship is not a skill I possess. It is difficult enough to keep myself in order during the longer missions."

"In that case, in those situations I would need to seek those things elsewhere, but what is considered acceptable? Would I have to keep things strictly platonic with others, or would it be all right to share energy with other mechs and such?"

Prowl nodded slightly. "You will always be welcome to share with others, mech or organic. Just as Jazz will provide relief to those who need it, his policy with sockets is that any who need the charge are welcome to ask for it. I have never found reason to disagree with this. Exclusive is simply not in his nature."

Katie was quietly pensive. "This ... is something I'll need time to think about. It wouldn't be fair to you, Jazz, or me, if we jumped the gun only to find out that I'm not right for you two."

She also would like to have a chance to speak with Jazz in person as well before making this sort of decision, and she wasn't entirely sure where she stood with Prowl at the moment.

"I agree," Prowl said with absolute faith in the statement. "It is the most significant commitment you are likely to make in your life, and not a small one for us. It is not uncommon to court for many years before all parties are in agreement. May I answer any other questions for you?"

She felt relieved that he wasn't offended. "I can't think of anything else to ask right now, but if I do think of something, is it all right to send you an email, perhaps?"

"Please do," he agreed readily. "Or come by my office. I am usually there. I am sure Jazz will wish to speak with you in the next few days."


	14. Hunting Pleasure 5: Under the Stars

**Fandom:** Transformers Bayverse (POV'verse)  
**Author:** gatekat and fallentaiyoko on LJ  
**Pairing:** Jazz/Prowl, Jazz/Katie Benson  
**Rating:** R for mech/female  
**Codes:** Slash, Het, Xeno (Transformer/Human)  
**Summary:** Since Katie passed Prowl's interview, Jazz looks her up on the beach.  
**Notes:** Written in the Point of View fanverse (community .livejournal .com/tf_matrix)  
Sorry about the sort-of weird break. RP-based stories do that sometimes.  
**Timing:** After Wheeljack and the alien organics arrive

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Shades of Grey 14:

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Hunting Pleasure 5: Under the Stars

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Finally deciding to try to at least attempt to be a bit social, 'fashionably late' or not, Katie Benson headed to the rec room, only to find a sign up on the door:

**'Movie Night relocated outdoors for meteor shower'**

_Well, then, time to head outside to find everyone,_ she thought.

It didn't take long to see where everyone had headed out to, and she headed over towards the group, finding herself a reasonably comfortable place to sit where she wouldn't have to worry much about being stepped on and still have a decent view of the sky. Her sister would probably tell her she was failing at the whole intention of 'being social' right now, as lost in thought as she was, still considering everything she'd discussed with Prowl.

"Hay," a light male voice greeted her from far enough above her head to have to be from a mech. "Up for a little company?"

The voice jolted her from her thoughts and she felt like she jumped a mile as she made a rather undignified squeak. Blushing furiously, she replied, "Um, yeah, sure. Just startled me a bit, that's all ... "

A human might not have been able to notice the blushing, but she was pretty sure the darkness wasn't enough to shield her from Jazz's optics.

"Sorry 'bout that," he sounded sincere as he settled down next to her and looked up at the stars. "I think meteor showers will hold a special place in the sparks of everyone who's waiting on someone to arrive safely," he spoke softly. "They weren't anything special before. Now..." he shook his head slightly.

"Even for those of us who aren't waiting on someone ... just knowing that there could be someone coming makes them more special than they were before. Is there anyone waiting on someone right now, or even just certain mechs that y'all'd be happy to see?" It was being able to see those common emotions between the two species that helped solidify her view of the Cybertronians as _people_.

"I'm looking forward to Nightbeat," Jazz smiled warmly in the memories. "He's the best investigator we've got, and just rocks with the riddles and mind-games. He keeps me sharp like no other."

"Sounds like it'd be interesting," she said with a smile. "Is there a way I could get a hold of some Cybertronian music? Been wondering what it sounds like."

She leaned against him slightly, trying to let the conversation distract her from the turmoil in her heart. In response he curled a hand around her; partially in support, but also for the warmth. It felt good and she relaxed a bit more.

"Of course," he smiled down at her. "I keep an extensive collection of most varieties. Between Prowl's tastes, my own and some nostalgia, there isn't much I don't have at least a few days worth of listening to. What kinds of Earth music do you like? I can pull Cybertronian tunes you are more likely to enjoy, even if you don't understand the words."

"Hmm ... I like a lot of different things, but maybe for now, something in a sort of classical style? Do you have a favorite style of Earth music?"

"I like it all, 'specially rock, big band and dance beats," he said with a low sound of approval. "Prowl has found classical and blues very much to his liking."

She nodded in understanding, a little shiver of something going through her with that sound. "Yeah, it all depends on the mood I'm in. Dance music, I typically reserve for my quarters. I ain't particularly good at dancing, so I only do it alone."

"Aww, I can't believe that," Jazz looked down at her with the most endearingly sad kicked-puppy look she had ever seen. "If you move to the music, ya can dance, and dance well."

That look certainly worked if he intended to make her feel guilty. "Still sure that instead of looking sexy, I just look like I'm having seizures to the beat or something." Blushing again, she nuzzled shyly against him.

Jazz laid down on his side and look at her. "Would you dance just for me?" he purred, a soft rumble of his engine making the sound all the more enticing. "I'll never laugh at you for it."

"I could try ... " she said uncertainly, but wanting to overcome her self-consciousness. "It might take some time for me to be able to let go enough, though."

"Close your eyes and feel the music," he said softly, his voice smooth as silk and every bit as sexy. "Any favorite tunes, or an era?"

"Well, there is one song I really like for dancing ... the lyrics are kind of meh, but I love the beat of it. It's called "Sentence Me" by Soil and Eclipse." She felt a bit strange, maybe some of his confidence was rubbing off on her?

"Got it," Jazz said after a second, then the first low beats of the familiar tempo echoed around her. "You must look beautiful when you relax to a beat."

Taking a few seconds to let herself get into the feel of the beat, she closed her eyes and let herself imagine she was back home, dancing to her CD on the family stereo while everyone else was out for the day. Although she truly wasn't very skilled, her dancing wasn't as bad as she'd claimed it to be, though Jazz's vote of confidence might have helped some with that as well.

Jazz just kept the music going, finding songs with a similar beat and sound to play while he watched her relaxed into the movements. Soon his rumbling hum was audible enough to catch her attention.

Distracted from the music by that sound, she stopped and looked at him. "Jazz? Are you all right?" she asked, concerned and unsure what that sound meant. _He didn't break something trying to keep his promise not to laugh at me, I hope,_ she thought.

He actually looked apologetic, or at least that's how she interpreted his expression.

"Yes, fine," he quickly shook his head. "It's a sound of approval, and frequently pleasure."

"You mean ... you like my dancing?" she asked, surprised. "Here I was, thinking you might've broke something trying not to laugh."

"No, nothing broke, sweetie," he crooned. "I do like your dancing. I don't care if it's what 'hip' right now. True dancing is an expression of the spark, the soul. It's just you and the music expressing each other."

She shivered and moved to curl up against Jazz, the slight sheen of sweat she'd built up while dancing causing her to start getting chilled by the night breeze now that she'd stopped dancing. He curled his arms and body around her, revving his engine to provide a bit more warmth to help dry her off. "Are you ready to talk about your meeting with Prowl?" he asked, stroking her side with one finger.

She nuzzled against him more, the revving of his engine relaxing her more as well. "Yeah. Something that's kinda been nagging at me, though ... the way Prowl made things sound, y'all'd be fine with any unattached socket, so why are y'all looking to claim someone?"

"Because something happened that scared the spark out of both of us," he answered quietly, his voice even but uneasy. "We can still take energy separately for as long as it takes to find someone, but that's it's own kind of hurt. A claimed socket won't trigger the protection protocols that an unclaimed one does."

That uneasiness from _Jazz_ and knowing that he and Prowl had both been scared shot through her, and she shifted to embrace the saboteur as best she could. "'Protection protocols'?"

Jazz stroked her back and let a puff of air out his vents. "Our sparks, our life-force, are extremely vulnerable when exposed for a merge. One of the very few things that can override the socket protection protocols are those to protect one's bonded. Prowl exposed his spark, wanting a merge after we interfaced. If I had any less control at that moment, I would have killed her."

She hugged him more. "No wonder you were scared. The important thing is that you _didn't_ hurt her." She stroked gentle circles against his plating, hoping that it helped soothe him at least a little.

"Yeah, it is," he agreed, humming softly at the touch. "But it means we can't be together to share until at least one of us has claimed the socket. It's just too dangerous. I won't risk loosing him, not after what I did to get him back."

She hummed soothingly as well, continuing the stroking. "It'll work out, I know it will. You've both come through too much for it to be otherwise."

It startled her just a bit to realize how much she already cared for the pair of mechs. "Jazz ... what does Prowl think of me? I mean, I figure if it was outright rejection, he'd have told me straight up, but it's been hard not to second-guess myself over everything."

The silver mech chuckled. "Even mechs who have been with him for the entire war have trouble reading him. You are right, if he didn't like you, he would have told you and I wouldn't have looked for you. He likes you well enough to want to know you better. His primary concern is how well you'll handle extended periods of being left to your own devices while we're stuck doing our jobs. It's caused a lot of tension with several of our previous sockets."

"It's been a concern of mine as well. I mean, I can understand the value of 'alone time', but just from the perspective of being a human, I don't know how well I'd be able to handle years, decades, _centuries_ alone. Friends among the other mechs and humans would help, but I bet it wouldn't be the same."

"It's not," he nodded. "You'd still share with anyone you want, it's a concession he makes to both my desires and the realities of his workaholic nature. An organic mate and family helps too, as do interests that can hold you attention for extended periods of time. The reality is that it's not easy to be a socket for a pair as different as Prowl and me, who have duties that can take us away from you for long periods of time.

"What he probably didn't tell you is something I expect when I'm gone. I expect our socket to take some of my duties as his bonded. Making sure he gets his energon and recharge. Ensuring that he gets an overload now and then. Things he just doesn't do to take care of himself."

She gave a soft chuckle. "No, he didn't mention that, but I'd had a feeling that would be involved too. He gives that impression of being someone who'd quite literally work himself to death. Does the logic of 'not taking care of yourself = reduced efficiency' just not work, or does he get caught up and simply forget?"

"Oh, it works, he just won't apply it to himself," Jazz shook his head. "Somewhere between 'no one else can do the job', 'it has to be done' and a desperate effort not to think about what has him so wound up he refuses to apply it to himself."

"If you two haven't settled on a socket to claim by the time you have to leave again, I'd be willing to hassle 'im for ya anyway. And if that didn't work, I'd see if I could get someone, perhaps Ratchet, to lock him out of all his datapads and the computers until he's had his energon and a full recharge cycle," she added, giving a sly grin at the thought of Prowl suddenly getting 'ACCESS DENIED' for everything he tried to work on.

Jazz shook with laughter, his bright voice echoing across the sand and drawing attention from several nearby groups. "Oh Primus, that would be good. It's been done, but I was the one who set it up and it was to get him to the berth, not to get him to recharge."

His bright laughter resonated through her in a way she didn't know how to describe other than 'want to have it happen again'. Unconsciously, she reached up and traced the edge of her socket with her fingers.

"I'm pretty sure I could get Ratchet to go along with it, too, if only because then _he_ won't have to deal with the fallout of Prowl not taking care of himself," she added, looking thoughtful. "Maybe even set it up on an automated schedule, too?"

"Oh, he will, but it's been tried," Jazz settled down, but he was still grinning wildly. "He always finds a way to work. When my mech doesn't want to recharge, he doesn't, short of a heavy sedative or medical override. Prowl's as stubborn as they come."

"Just means I'll have to get creative, then," she said, mind already at work coming up with possibilities. "I can be just as stubborn when I wanna be."

_Maybe something like 'get the twins to create a diversion to lure Prowl out of his office, then snipe him with a tranquilizer gun in the hallway'? That might work, not sure how many uses I'd get out of it before he caught on, though ... _ she thought, expression bright with thoughts of mischief, especially SIC-sanctioned mischief.

"That's good," Jazz grinned at her, liking how she responded to the challenge. "Was there anything else that you're wondering about, from the interview or in general?"

She thought for a minute, then grinned as she asked, "Did you two deliberately pick sexy alt-modes, or was it just chance?" At this point, she was pretty sure she was going to have to masturbate when she got back to her quarters, if she wanted to have any chance of falling asleep tonight.

"I did, life isn't worth it if you don't do it with style," he winked his visor at her. "I 'helped' Prowl pick his," his fingers became bolder as his sensors registered her arousal and triggered his own. "He'd have picked something from law enforcement, but nothing so stylish. Have you shared before?" he asked, his voice dropping a bit.

"I bet ... he'd probably have gone with the super-common and horribly bland Crown Vic if he'd had his way. ... And no, I haven't shared yet with anyone." She hadn't really known how to approach any of the mechs about it.

"Do you want to, tonight?" he murmured, his fingers sliding close to the side of her breast without actually crossing the line to intimacy.

Her heart felt like it was about to jump out of her chest. "I'd like that, yes," she replied, leaning into him.

"Would you like to stay for the show?" Jazz nodded to the sky.

"Mm, it'd be nice to catch at least part of it," she said, looking up to see if it'd started yet to catch the first flickers of the descending bits of space debris.

"Then relax, watch the show, and let me play a bit," he rumbled, his voice only just loud enough for her to hear. His finger slid forward to circle her breast. "We'll retreat to my quarters before you undress, unless you _want_ to play out here."

It had been too long since she'd last had anyone touch her, her arousal increasing with that simple caress. "Sounds good to me, though if I get worked up enough, I might just jump ya right here, everyone else be damned."

"I wouldn't be one to stop you," he chuckled agreeably and extended several cables from his wrists to join his slender clawed fingers in mapping out her entire body through her clothing and along exposed skin.

She let out a slight squeal and squirmed as some of those cables found ticklish spots along her sides. "Hey! That tickles!"

He made note of them and brushed a cable tip across her socket. "May I plug in?"

She gasped as just that light brushing sent a jolt of pleasure down her spine. "Yeah, go for it."

Another jolt of pleasure raced through her body as the connection was made.

~Your pleasure is already good,~ Jazz's voice drifted across her mind. His finger hooked around the back of her thigh and rubbed up and down, only just avoiding brushing against her crotch with each stroke.

A feeling came from her mind, that she truly wanted Jazz and Prowl to be _happy_, whomever they ultimately chose to be their socket. ~Been so long since I've been with anyone ... almost forgot what it was like,~ she replied with her mind, squirming to try to get more of that delicious touch.

~Thank you,~ he brushed against her mind. ~Around here, you'll never be without a lover if you want one.~

She reveled in the mental connection as much as the physical touches. She'd always craved being able to connect to someone like this, but never dreamed it could be possible until now. ~More, please?~ she asked, mental images running through her head already of what it might be like when Jazz and Prowl were together ... _hot_ mental images.

Jazz shuddered, lust and raw, unfiltered _want_ rolling off him in waves. He sheared memories of what it was really like, the intensity of being with someone who knew your very spark as well as their own. Prowl pinning him on the TIC's desk and taking his valve. The mewling, gasping cries Prowl made when his sensor wings were stoked to overload. The sweet, heady feel of Prowl's spike in his mouth.

Then memories drifted to the feeling of being deep in Prowl's valve as he watched a felinoid, her body round with new life and her multiple sets of breasts swelling with milk for the kittens soon to be born, riding Prowl's spike as they were both connected to her. The addictive feeling of new life inside her body as they pleasured her and she fed their sparks.

Oh _God_, the actual memories were even hotter than she'd imagined! "Oh Jazz!" she moaned, enamored by the two beautiful mechs as her energy pulsed across the cable.

She still wasn't entirely sure if she was truly the best fit for them, but right about now, she certainly _wanted_ to be. Not only that, but Jazz's memories of their former socket was starting to sway her slightly towards the 'have kids' side of the fence, though she remained on the fence about the idea.

~Share with others before you become so enamored of us,~ Jazz purred in her mind, intimate memories of his life with Prowl still flowing. ~What I have with Prowl is special, but not unique among bonded mechs.~

Her chagrin flowed across the link as she realized that Jazz was right about needing to experience sharing with others, and her self-consciousness from earlier started to creep back. After all, theoretically, the Autobots had their pick of the six billion humans on Earth, and that number alone could make plenty of people feel insignificant.

~You'll make a fine socket,~ Jazz interrupted her thoughts. ~I'm just saying that a thousand or two years is a long time for a human. If Prowl and I were more possessive, you might never find out that you gel with someone else better. Being who and what I am, you _would_ find out if you made a mistake rushing into a relationship with us, and I don't want that. There's time.~

~True, but you and Prowl are still beautiful together no matter what, so don't sell yourselves short either. Hell, the terror twins have hot alt-modes, but their personalities, especially Sunstreaker's, is a total turn-off for me.~ He got the impression that at the very least he and Prowl had made it onto her 'friends' list whether they wanted on it or not.

~We named them the Terror Twins for good reason,~ Jazz agreed, caressing her with another wave of pleasure. ~Don't be too hard on them. They were built, sparked, full grown to kill as efficiently as possible. To take the Decepticons on in battle and not be capable of giving quarter. Their first battle came before they could even tell their handlers their names. What Prime was thinking when he commissioned them, even I don't know. They are what they were programmed, created, crafted and trained to be.~


	15. Hunting Pleasure 6: World Upside Down

**Fandom:** Transformers Bayverse (POV'verse)  
**Author:** gatekat and Femme4jack on LJ  
**Pairing:** Jazz/Miles, JazzProwl  
**Rating:** NC-17 for male/mech  
**Codes:** Slash, Xeno (Transformer/Human)  
**Summary:** Miles gets some news that turns his world upside down for a reason he can't fathom yet.  
**Notes:** Written in the Point of View fanverse (community .livejournal .com/tf_matrix)  
**"text"** translated Cybertronian.  
**Timing:** After Wheeljack and the alien organics arrive

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Shades of Grey 15:

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Hunting Pleasure 6: World Turned Upside Down

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Miles sat with his arms wrapped around his knees in the corner of the gleaming rec room, normally his pride and joy. His preparations for the weekly happy hour followed by movies were only half finished. He had received a call in the middle of the night that had left him numb and unsure what to feel. His dad had died. Yeah...the same dad that had left them when he was an 8 year old kid, his sister barely 3, completely disappearing, never a cent in child support, a call or a card on birthdays, never acknowledging that he even had a family whom he spent 8 years with. The same dad that had left him with an emotionally needy mom, thrusting him into the position of the emotional caretaker in his family.

The same dad, who, apparently had raised a completely different family in Costa Rica and had become wealthy there. The creep had never left that particular family, though that had not necessarily been a positive thing for them. It was his half sister that he had never known who had looked up his mom. Shortly after his mom contacted him, sobbing, sharing the whole story, all the pain that had scabbed over during the years since now openly bleeding again.

They guy was a complete bastard. Miles should have been doing a dance in celebration. So why, instead, did he feel so empty, as though he had lost something he had never even had?

Miles was not someone to dwell on much of anything. He forgave easily, accepted everyone. It was a coping mechanism. His lighthearted nature helped ease the tension at home. Humor was the best medicine for a mom on the edge and for a sister whose mom couldn't meet her emotional needs. His job had been to care for and make the females in his household laugh. Normally, he just didn't let things get to him. His initial reaction to understanding the socket technology surprised the hell out of him, but as soon as he understood why he was so upset (that he had fallen for his doorwinger friend, Bluestreak, without realizing he had done so), he was over it, laughing about it, joking about and moving on. But this he wasn't just going to just bounce back from his current state. This loss went to the heart of everything that had made him who he was, for better or worse.

That was why at some point during his morning preparations his numbness gave way to tears, leaving him huddled in the corner of the half-ready rec-room, sobbing like a little kid.

He was distantly aware of a mech approaching him quietly, but couldn't find it in himself to look up.

"Hay, Miles-man," Jazz's low, gentle voice was nearly a croon as the small silver mech sat down next to him and reached out to gently stroke his arm. "What happened?"

Miles fought of the urge so simply become a puddle of crying human on Jazz's lap. He took several deep breath and tried to get his sobbing under control.

"Hey, Jazz-Dude," he said with a weak smile at the silver mech. "I should be workin' ... I'm not close to ready for this evening, and my half shift in comms starts in an hour. I just got a really bad call from my mom last night. I guess it finally hit me."

For some reason, it was difficult for Miles to even mention his dad, when all he wanted to do was forget the jerk ever existed.

Jazz hummed softly, pitching his engine and systems to a soothing frequency for the human he was gently coaxing into his lap. "Family news?" he asked carefully even as he logged into the base network and began reworking the schedule with Prowl. Duty or not, it wasn't good for someone this distraught to be on duty if it could be helped and today it definitely could be.

Miles felt Jazz gently pushing him up toward his lap, and gave into the temptation, climbed up. He leaned back into the warm metal of the silver mech's abdomen, and curled his arms around his knees. He felt his body relaxing the way it always seemed to when he was hanging with Bluestreak. Something about EM fields and frequencies, Blue had once said when he asked him.

"Yeah...family news. Sort of. Just found out that my dad died a couple of weeks ago. Had a heart attack. I haven't seen or heard a word from the jerk since I was 8. I can't even figure out why I'm so fucking upset about it. I mean ... he's been gone for most of my life. I got over it. Why should it suddenly matter now?"

"Mmm," Jazz hummed and gently stroked Mile's side and legs. "Lost opportunities, maybe. You can't ever rub it in his face what he lost out on, or hear him admit he was wrong. All those 'whys' and 'what ifs' will never happen now. It hurts."

Miles sighed and leaned into the stroking, and thought briefly that if humans could purr, he would be doing so. He wiped his face off on his sleeve and curled up even more.

"I'm sure that's is a big part of it, dude. He would have been a disaster of a dad if he'd stayed. My mom only found out because his daughter in Costa Rica managed to look her up and call her. Apparently the dude lived there after he skipped out, remarried, and had a whole different family there - 5 kids."

"If you ever want to connect with them," Jazz made the offer and raised his skin temperature a few degrees as he looked up everything he could. Fortunately it was all information his original background check had turned up. He just hadn't realized that Miles didn't know. "You're an important person now in your own right. Sometimes it helps to talk with those who knew him. Good or bad, you can make connections. Or you can rant and snarl and cry to me. Prowl even is pretty good sometimes, with that logical way of seeing how things work out. If nothing else, I know he'd let you curl up on his lap while he worked."

Miles felt a surge of genuine gratitude at the offers, all of them, and the image of him curled up on Prowl's lap like a little kitten made him grin. He felt himself relaxing even further, uncurling his knees and just leaning back into the surprising comfort a metal alien could be. He reached back behind himself and gave an awkward hug.

"You know, for all that you guys are huge and fucking deadly, there is something just completely comforting about having someone that is so much bigger than you around who is willing to cuddle. But you really don't have to do anything special for me. I mean ... you and Prowl have so much on your plates already. You don't need some emo guy falling apart all over you."

Miles wasn't sure what to say about the offer to connect with his before now unknown relations. He was sure that at some point he would. They were family, even if he had never known them, and he was fiercely loyal to family. Hell, it might actually help, though it could also open up the wounds.

"It's part of my job as Unofficial Morale Officer, and Prowl likes you, in his own way," Jazz chuckled lightly. "He doesn't _like_ many folks. Seriously, though. Don't turn a friend away just because you think they're too busy."

Miles wiped the last of his tears away and laughed, relaxing a little more (and he was sure that Jazz was doing that to him on purpose). He made an instant decision to let go of his worry and just appreciate that offer. It wasn't often that he fell apart, with anyone other than himself.

"Well...as one morale lifting dude to another, thanks man. It isn't often that I dump all over someone, you know? And honestly, you sayin that Prowl likes me in his own way and suggesting I curl up on his lap like a little kitten may just be the coolest thing I've heard...like ever. I can almost imagine what Prowl says when he likes someone in his own way. 'He is marginally tolerable,' Miles said in a fairly good imitation of Jazz's bonded's voice with grin.

The silver mech howled with laughter, only controlling his reaction out of respect for the organic in his lap. "Yap, that sounds right. Of course when he _really_ likes you, he stops ordering you out of his office when you have no 'logical' reason to be there."

It was impossible not to laugh with Jazz. It was infectious, and it was a great release. He didn't feel as heavy any more. When he finally stopped his rather unmanly giggling, he turned around in Jazz's lap with a huge grin.

"So, care to give the junior morale officer some pointers on the job?"

Jazz hummed. "Party often and randomly. Make sure you know everyone by name, face, silhouette, voice, personality, job, sexual preferences, relationship status and issues. Be prepared to hear a lot of random depressing stuff, usually when you aren't ready for it. The big thing, though, is be aware that if you ever drop the mask in public, you'll panic the entire base," he went from teasing to more serious. "You had the minor twins freaked enough to find me."

Miles hid his face in his hands. "Oh crap. Freaked out the minor twins? It must have been bad. I hope they weren't trying to spike the energon. Ratchet told me I needed to look out for both pairs when it comes to that."

"I expect they were after the human drinks, personally," Jazz said easily. "They didn't get to them though. "It's the Terror Twins that like spiking the energon."

Miles turned serious for a minute. "I hope you know you don't have to keep your mask up around me, Jazz. I mean...I've fallen apart all over you, so it is sort of secret club thing now."

"Thank you," his smile was honest as he stroked Mile's back. "I have Prowl, though. He has to deal with it anyway unless I really make an effort to block him. Don't worry about your shift today either. You aren't getting a free ride, just traded a couple shifts around so you'd have today off."

Miles shivered at the stroke, feeling a bit embarrassed that his body was starting to respond to the touch, knowing that any Autobot could sense that.

"Thanks, really. That will give me chance to get ready here and just chill for awhile so I can handle tonight without falling apart again, cause I'm sure it's gonna hit a few more times. And I'm glad you have the Prowl-dude. It was really great talking with him the other day, learning more about the two of you. The bond thing ... that is totally amazing, Jazz."

"Yes, it is," he said softly, still stroking Miles' back. "Ya want to act on your desire? It can help burn off stress-chemicals, and I'm a very different lay than my Prowler."

Miles felt an immediate electric jolt of excitement run through his whole body, instantly fully aroused.

"Hell yeah, Jazz. But maybe somewhere...a bit more private?"

"Private like my quarters, or private like a back room?" Jazz rumbled low, the vibration doing much to encourage Miles' reaction, as did his much bolder fingers.

Miles wasn't sure he would make it to Jazz's quarters, the way the mech was suddenly touching him. But he wanted to see his quarters, really wanted to.

"Your ... your quarters ... if I can make it that far." He was trembling in anticipation, his body having had one taste of the possibilities of a socket connection, and knowing he was soon to have another likely much more tactile version. Not knowing what he was doing, but just needing to touch the utterly devastating mech. He ran his fingers along the plating and cables his fingers could find.

"Damn ... you really are so fucking hot ... even by human standards."

"Keep talking like that and I'll do you in the hall," Jazz shivered before coaxing him to stand on the floor so he could transform.

Miles took a step back, feeling dizzy with pure lust. Doing him in the hall or a back room somewhere was sounding better and better. The transformation was sexy ... Jazz gave it so much style. And his alt form ... also utterly sexy. He ran his hands along Jazz's hood and rubbed his obvious erection against the open passenger door as he got in, feeling utterly bold and kinky. He sat down, and threw his head back, trying not to touch himself, touching Jazz instead, stroking the seat beside him, the shifter, steering wheel. He had absolutely no idea if it did anything for Jazz, but it certainly did something for him.

"Damn," he whispered. "I've never been so fucking horny for a car before."

"Bet you never had a car horny for you either," Jazz chuckled even as he shivered in pleasure and rolled out of the hanger towards the officer's barracks. "How about pluggin' in? I'll show ya what _Speed of Thought_ means.

"Hell yeah," he said, taking the cable that slid out of the dash and plugging it in without a second thought, gasping as he was immediately filled with a rather intimate sensation of just how horny Jazz was.

"Jesus," he said in a low voice. "I could come just from that alone."

~Close your eyes and focus on what I'm feeling,~ Jazz pushed his arousal back and focused on the sleek, friction-defying power that he exalted in. ~Let yourself be me.~

Miles did exactly as he was told, and suddenly he _was_ the sleek, powerful mech, able to make adjustments to speed and direction in less than an instant with the barest flick of a thought. It was pure thrill, at the primal level. The speed of the wheels, the thrust of his powerful engine, the air whipping over his aerodynamic body. The world sped by, he was somehow aware they were traveling at over a hundred miles per hour, but to their senses it wasn't much faster than a brisk walk.

Miles lost total awareness of his own body ... he was fully enveloped into Jazz. He wasn't even aware that one hand was gripping the armrest and the other was rubbing his erection through his pants.

It all felt so good, so exhilarating. Prowl had been gentle, considerate, and as intimate as the connection was, it was a little impersonal. Jazz was the exact opposite. Jazz was a complete hedonist and reveled in his wild, unpredictable nature.

~I'm going to take that tight ass of yours, and if you want you'll feel my valve around your cock,~ Jazz rumbled through the connection as they raced down the hallways of the officer's barracks.

If he wasn't forever ruined for plain old socket free sex by Prowl, he certainly was now at that promise.

~I know I keep repeating myself, but fuck yes, Jazz ... all of it. And you just eat up all that organic energy I'm gonna give you when I suck your spike.~

He felt the hot rush of desire-arousal mixed with surprise as Jazz nearly fishtailed before taking a corner, only narrowly avoiding slamming into Hound's pedes by the speed of Mirage's grab that pulled his bonded against the far wall.

~How in Primus' name did you get Prowl to like you?~ Jazz's mental voice was strained as he focused on driving, then stopping outside the door to his quarters.

~I'm just a likable sort of guy,~ Miles replied, suddenly smug, before disconnecting and practically rolling out of the passenger door so Jazz could transform.

The silver mech had the door open before Miles could completely orient himself and swept the human up in his arms to make short work of the distance across the main room with it's double desk and entertainment center to the far simpler berth room beyond it.

Even as Jazz carried him toward the berth, he grabbed at the cable swinging from his wrist and plugged himself back in.

Miles ran his hands all over Jazz's plating, unashamedly grinding against him. He had convinced Bee to show him his spike once, after Sam had told him a little too much for his curiosity to contain, and he was single-minded in his desire to feel Jazz impale his ass, after he had given it appropriate attention, of course.

~I don't think I've ever been this worked up before.~

~You'll have all your curiosities answered before you leave,~ Jazz promised as he set Miles down and helped the young man divest himself of his clothing.

Clothing now strewn in all over the berth ... with the complication of having to unplug for a moment to get his shirt off, Miles pulled himself against the silver mech, who was kneeling, looming above him, leaving Miles in the perfect position to see whatever surprises he held underneath that plating on his crotch.

~I don't know, dude. I'm curious about every bit of you. I may have to come back for a second lesson.~

Jazz laughed, a rich, delighted sound, and brought one knee up on the berth to give Miles a better view and open access when he slid his panel back and allowed his spike to slip out of it's housing as it pressurized in response to the arousal flowing freely through Jazz's frame.

~My natural size,~ Jazz murmured, his optic band glowing brightly as he ghosted his fingers along Miles' back. ~It won't be this large when I take you.~

Miles gave him a predatory grin, and then ran his hand along the thick silver cable, shivering as the sensation of exquisitely sensitive nodes washed over him through the socket.

~Oh God,~ he whispered, feeling completely undone by being able to actually feel what his touch did to Jazz.

He leaned in, his hands resting against Jazz's thighs and licked the spike from its base to tip, swirling his tongue around the end as he circled it with both hands and pumped. He moaned in the back of his throat as the feedback hit him again, but he never stopped his worship of the large mech-cock before him.

~I can pretend it is this large when you take me, though.~

~Y-yes,~ Jazz shivered, willingly submitting to the touch. He kept his mind carefully shielded and segregated, allowing Miles free roam to the sensations and surface thoughts, but keeping him carefully away from realizing that he was tweaking his own responses slightly. After a spark-bond, even the rush of organic energy couldn't hit quite the same high. It bothered enough of his lovers, especially the inexperienced ones, that he shielded them from the truth depth of his experience and what he was getting out of it from them on reflex.

Miles was a perceptive young man though, and not prone to a bruised ego or hurt feelings. He stopped and grinned wickedly at Jazz. ~I bet this is nothing compared to you and Prowl. God, I'd love to watch you two sometime ... I know there are issues with that right now ... but I think it would be the hottest fucking thing I've ever seen.~

He shifted his position, and brought his own smaller erection up against Jazz's spike and rubbed them both. He groaned again at the feedback Jazz sent.

~Nothing compares to Prowl,~ Jazz admitted without hesitation and caught the stray desire to be dominated in Miles' mind. With a wicked grin he caught the human's shoulders and pushed him to the berth. Cables extended from his wrists and hips to position him with his chest against the soft fabric and his ass in the air.

Then Jazz pressed his finger into his own valve, coating it with the thick lubricant he produced naturally and teased a slightly blunted clawtip against the human's anus. ~Ready for something a little more than rubbing?~

~Ok...using my expansive vocabulary, fuck yes!~

Miles hissed as Jazz's clawtip began pushing in, straining against the cables and pushing back towards the burning invasion, reveling in the amazing mixture of pleasure and pain that was his body adjusting to being stretched. He panted and felt his ring of muscles start to relax around probing clawed finger.

~More ... please ... oh fuck.~

The part of his mind that retained any semblance of coherence smirked about alien anal probing not being nearly as bad as he had been led to believe ... in fact ... people really should be lining up to get them.

~Some are,~ Jazz chuckled in his mind and slowly expanded the armor around his finger as he stroked it in and out to properly stretch the tight opening. ~Most are more eager for the stage two probing.~

Miles cried aloud as Jazz thickened up the invading digit and began to stroke in and out. He writhed against the restraints, trying to impale himself further. The cables only tightened and held him still.

~Oh ... I figured they weren't just lining up for stage two ... they would be breaking the doors down and having a horny human stampede ... FUCK YES!~ his train of thought was interrupted by the well-lubed claw briefly brushing up against his prostate, making his cock spasm, threatening to push him over the edge when the fun had only just started ... not that he objected to coming several times ... he just had some sort of romantic notion of the first orgasm happening with Jazz buried deep inside him.

~God damn ... please just fuck me! I'm going to come before we even get to stage 2.~

Again the mech above him chuckled, but Jazz complied and removed his finger. Before Miles could do more than moan at the loss of contact, a thicker, warmer and altogether different shape pressed into his body.

~Frag you're tight,~ Jazz shuddered against him and in his mind, willingly sharing the full sensations his body was receiving with Miles even as he drank in the pleasure of it from the human.

~Oh God ... so good ... so fucking good,~ Miles groaned through their connection, trembling and starting to come completely undone by the double input - being so thoroughly filled by the thick spike while at the same time feeling Jazz's oh-so-hot perspective of pushing into the tight hot hole that was clenching and then relaxing around him. In the background of it all, he could _feel_ Jazz's spark feeding on the cloud of sensations and emotions that were swirling through Miles (gratitude, lust, humor, extreme desire and curiosity, warmth and joy to name a few) ... it was a whole different and truly alien kind of pleasure.

~Amazing ... God Jazz ... it's so amazing,~ he briefly wondered how he could ever live without having this again ... this sharing of sensations and the exquisite feedback from his own life giving life to the beautiful, bright supernova that was at the center of Jazz ... that was Jazz, in his purest most spectacular form.

~I'm always up for fun,~ Jazz moaned into his mind, his hips beginning to rock as he thrust in and out of his lover. ~Most mechs'll jump at the chance to play with ya, just gotta offer it. But Prowl like's ya, I like ya ... we haven't had that much agreement in ages.~

Miles vocal sounds were reduced to whimpers and moans and the sleek silver mech began moving in him, while at the same time his heart swelled at the words, feeling warm ... oh so warm toward the bonded pair that for some odd reason seemed to both find him so likable.

~Anywhere, any time, Jazz man.~

Jazz began moving faster in him ... and Miles' ability to even have mentally coherent thoughts was lost in a tempest of pure sensation, forgetting where he started and where the mech ended, his whole body and his mind lighting up in pure pleasure as Jazz began to hit his sweet spot over and over again.

~Come for me, Miles,~ Jazz purred against his mind and body, revving his engine as his pleasure spiraled out along with the human's. ~Let me feel your pleasure before I overload.~

As if on command Miles exploded into the most mind-blowing orgasm he'd ever had, pleasure racing up and down his whole body as his cock spurted in a truly spectacular manner, shooting his seed far across the berth, as he screamed Jazz's name in aloud and in his mind.

Before he could even begin to come down, he felt Jazz's spark swell, completely gorged on life-energy and triggering the mech's own overload. Jazz let loose a keening cry of raw ecstasy and buried his spike deep into Miles' body before squirting transfluid into him, a burst with each thrust.

Even in his state, Miles' couldn't miss how Jazz's mind ... or was it spark? ... called out for his bonded with a painful loneliness.

Then Prowl was there, very distantly to Miles, but definitely there, soothing the distress that shocked both mechs. It just wasn't in Jazz's nature to feel anything but good from a 'facing, and definitely not to feel so distressed at his bonded's not being in the berth with him.

Miles instinctively knew that Prowl was giving Jazz exactly what he needed at that moment, even as he felt distress settle into his belly that what had been so intensely pleasurable for both of them had suddenly become so emotionally painful for Jazz.

He tried to simply focus on how good he felt, how thankful and in awe he was of what he had just been given and had been allowed to give, how he wished Prowl was there, too, and that he would do anything he could to help the bonded pair if they wanted him to.

~Perhaps,~ Prowl told him quietly before retreating, leaving a fairly sated and relaxed Jazz in his wake.

~Sorry dude,~ Jazz murmured directly in his mind. ~Ah've never reacted like that before, ta mech 'r organic.~

Miles felt the cables holding him in place loosen and Jazz's spike slip out of him, making whatever the fluid was run down his inner thigh. He sat up and turned around, slipping his arms around silver mech as far as they could go.

"Don't be sorry, Jazz man," he said quietly. "It seems like you did let your mask down, even if you didn't mean to. You ok? Any idea why you reacted that way?"

Jazz smiled and stroked his back with hands and cables. "Probably has something to do with the whole dying thing," he murmured. "And Prowl being wound tighter than usual because of what happened with Amy the other day, and the my-bonded-died thing."

"Yeah ... dying and comin' back is pretty huge stuff, dude. Sam and I've talked about it a bit. He still sometimes falls apart about it you know ... but he's got Bee to put him back together, and you've got your Prowl. Optimus, you know ... I hope he has someone he can let down his mask with, cause he went through it, too."

"He does," Jazz assured him. It was true, even if it wasn't in the same way as a bonded or your mech could be and they weren't without their own tensions. "Even if his closest friend isn't on Earth yet."

Miles leaned into the strokes, relaxed and warm, wanting nothing more for the moment than to cuddle. Even with Jazz's intense reaction at the end, the afterglow was still sensational, and he could feel the echo of the warm fuzzies he was feeling languidly flowing into the spark at the other end of the connection.

"I was thinking about what Prowl said the other day about the whole thing with Amy. I was wondering what would have happened ... to the two of you ... you know ... if the worst had happened? Cause thinking about that would have me pretty wound tight too, dude."

Jazz murmured something unintelligible, even with the connection, and shuddered as he fully processed the question.

"Legally, he'd see brig time, ten vorns was the sentence the last time it happened, for reckless endangerment. He'd absolutely insist on it, plead guilty and everything, demand the harshest sentence under the law. I wouldn't have been charged, since I was doing something entirely reasonable in protecting my bonded's spark. The fallout between us, what we'd have to do to recover," he shuddered again. "I'm not entirely sure we'd still be Autobots when the dust settled. I doubt he'd recover from the guilt with his current programming, and I'll take being labeled and hunted as a traitor over loosing him without hesitation. After defying Primus to His face for him, defying Prime doesn't seem like much."

Miles stroked his finger gently down the mech's sensory head-fin and along the side of his face.

"Well shit, Jazz. No wonder Prowl is wound up and you are having intense feelings when you come. Makes perfect sense to me. Nothing like dying, defying God, coming back from the dead, and then facing a situation that could've potentially cut you and Prowl off from everyone else the two of you care about and have been fighting with for like million years to make the ole mask slip a bit."

Jazz stared down at the human, shock written openly on his features for a very long moment.

Then he threw his head back and laughed. Hard.

"Once upon a time, a very annoying femme told me that age didn't make wisdom, just increased the odds a mech would develop it," Jazz chuckled and shook his head. "She also said I was the one of the most thick-processored, imprudent mechs she'd met in ages," he added as he settled on his side and cradled the human close to his chest, a bemused grin still plastered on his face plates. "Leave it to a youngling human to remind me I am sometimes."

Miles just gave a silly, cheesy grin and then started cracking up at a thought of his own.

"You know, Jazz, for the first time since I was 8, I'm actually feeling thankful for my old man. His croaking got me the best comfort sex in the history of the planet, and gave me the chance to see you without your mask ... no matter how sexy that particular mask is."

"Mmm," Jazz hummed, stroking him gently with cables and fingers. "I'll be getting some pretty good comfort 'facing too, when Prowl gets off duty." He grinned down and slid a cable teasingly around Miles' cock. "But until then, we were discussing your mouth on my spike," he rumbled in anticipation. "And your cock in my valve," he shivered faintly.

Afterglow instantly shifted to arousal again ... so good to be young, Miles thought. His grin became even sappier and before he closed his eyes and groaned at the cable that was successfully bringing his limp cock back to attention.

~If you insist, I guess I could be convinced,~ he giggled in his head.

~You know it'll be worth your while,~ Jazz purred against his awareness, for the first time giving Miles a small sense of just how _experienced_ the silver mech was. ~I'll indulge any arrangement you want.~

Miles moaned again at the images that began flashing themselves suggestively through his mind. The silver mech's tongue-like glossa doing wicked things to him ... his own mouth swallowing a properly sized silver spike ... Miles thrusting with abandon into a slick, hot tight space that was somehow stimulating his cock in a way that no human hole ever could.

~Oh God ... you've convinced me ... a thousand times over.~

Jazz rumbled against him, revving his powerful engine. ~Which lovely idea first?~

Without any conscious decision, the image of the glossa flicked across his thoughts again. He blushed. ~I'm such a fucking bottom,~ he laughed mentally at himself for wanting to done unto rather than to do.

Jazz chuckled. ~Or you just know what's good in life,~ he grinned and shifted to brace himself over the human almost forty percent of his height but only a tiny fraction of his weight. He slid his glossa from one shoulder down Miles' chest to swirl around a nipple with all the delicacy of the finely tuned machine he was.

Miles shivered and closed his eyes, reveling in the feel of Jazz looming over him, on the one hand deadly and dangerous, but in this moment hilarious, hedonistic, and devastatingly sexy.

~You ... you are what's good in life. I could get so addicted to you.~

~I'm your first,~ Jazz chuckled with a gentle mental caress as his glossa moved to the other nipple, intent on taking a bit of time. ~So's Prowl, in a way. Don't say that until you've tried a few others. After all, if I claim you, I do expect you'd share with just about anyone who wants to.~

Miles shivered again at the slow, lazy caress across his sensitive nipples, his desire growing like a flickering candle slowly brightening rather than a blazing sun of their first passionate coupling.

He mentally laughed at Jazz's caress and subtle reminder. ~Sharing is good. I'm a sharing kind of guy. And I have no objection to trying lots of flavors. I just wasn't aware until recently that I could just offer without ... I don't know ... sounding like some sort of desperate socketslut.~

Jazz chuckled, and Miles couldn't tell if it was out loud, in his head or both. ~You're giving us _life_. There isn't a mech alive who could think badly of anyone _willing_ to do that.~ He paused to look Miles in the eyes, though his visor remained firmly in place. ~Besides, you'll learn soon enough that we're as pleasure-obsessed as any humans, with none of the inhibitions.~

Miles smirked, and then blushed at intensity of Jazz's gaze. ~I'm pretty sure my inhibitions started jumping out the window from the moment I decided to ask your Prowl if he wanted a charge, and the rest of them fled the scene in terror when you asked me if I wanted to act on my desire today.~

He arched his body back up toward the mech, winked and thought. ~So having said that, why don't you show me just how worked up you can get me before I try out that valve of yours? Since charging up that spark is such a noble cause and I'm such a self sacrificing guy.~

Jazz snickered again and modified the tips of several smaller cables to an almost fur-like texture before resuming his glossa's slow, deliberate exploration. He brought one of the fur-tipped cables down to brush lightly up Miles' cock.

Miles spread his legs wider and moaned at the teasing touch that made his cock twitch. He ran his fingers along the elegant curved horn like structures on Jazz's helm as the mech continued his so damn slow build up.

~More,~ Jazz moaned against his mind, a clear picture of pressure on those sensory structures under Miles' fingers coming with it. ~Feels so good.~

Miles arched into the teasing, probing glossa that was sensuously exploring the nape of his neck and the moving down his chest. He let out a gasp as the fur covered cable ran from the base to the tip of his cock that was already dripping pre-cum. He began squeezing and stroking the sensory structures with more confidence and pressure, as he might his own cock, and then ran his tongue along one as Jazz moved further down his belly, crying out suddenly as the double input of sensations hit him hard.

The silver mech shuddered above him and willfully pressed into the contact, sharing the pleasure of his touch with Miles as best he could given the human had no such appendages. He swirled his glossa around one hip, then slid upwards to explore Miles' abs.

~What are these?~ Miles asked, completely delighted as he continued to explore the sensory structures, squeezing and rubbing, experimenting with different levels of pressure, flicking the tip with his tongue. It was like discovering a whole new erogenous zone, and felt so different through the connection than the more familiar types of sensation. Alien pleasure, just as feedback from the pleasure of a spark being fed was alien, left his body having no context by which to interpret the sensations, igniting Miles' insatiable curiosity.

~Sensory horns,~ Jazz answered, continuing his exploration of Miles' body despite the distraction. ~They pick up a lot of extra information for me, like Blue's sensor-wings, but less vulnerable in battle. They're incredibly sensor-rich.~

~I'll say~ Miles shuddered again at the double input, his body being relentlessly explored in a far too slow manner that was getting him completely worked up and frustrated in all the right ways, while his mind coveted the oddly satisfying sensations coming from his own exploration of Jazz's unique anatomy.

With a low hum that vibrated his glossa, Jazz moved further down to lick and swirl his glossa around Miles' balls.

And damn if these guys just didn't do everything better, Miles thought as he whimpered and tried to stop himself from writhing. Jazz's glossa might be tongue-like, but it was the difference that made it so damn hot. Smooth, metallic, flexible, and somehow making wherever it touched tingle for a few moments. Having a million + years of experience probably didn't hurt matters either, he thought wryly before another lick and swirl of Jazz's glossa made him squeeze hard on the sensory horns and cry out "God yes!"

Jazz shuddered and whined softly in the intense bolts of pleasure shooting down from his head-fins and hummed harder as he did another figure 8 around Miles' balls and then up his cock.

"Yess," Miles hissed, his hips bucking as a jolt of pleasure traveled up his cock and through his anus up to his chest just from the single lick of the devastating glossa. The sensation from Jazz seemed to travel from his head to his center in just the same way. He gave Jazz a wicked grin and squeezed again, even harder.

The silver mech trembled, another whine of pleasured need escaping him before he retaliated by taking Miles' cock into his mouth and sucking gently while his glossa continued to explore the sensitive organ.

"Oh Jesus!" His hips trust up off the berth into the exquisite alien mouth. Jolts of pleasure continued to run up his cock into the rest of his body from the attention. Trying to find coherent thought again, he finally managed to get out ~I want to fuck you, Jazz.~

A last shiver and Jazz slid his head up, releasing the cock to the cool air of his quarters before rolling to his back and looking at Miles with a hungry expression. ~Please do,~ he rumbled, spreading his legs and lifting his knees before he reached down to tease his valve with a clawtip.

Miles knelt between the broad, strong silver legs, looking over the prize Jazz had just presented him with. Jazz's valve was decidedly alien, and yet familiar all at once, much like his spike. It was glistening with lubricant and appeared to be pulsing or throbbing with some sort of motion or energy. To Miles' mind it looked decidedly feminine, while Jazz's all too masculine spike, at its natural size, stood proud above it.

Miles slid two fingers into the valve and brought out a generous amount of the lubrication, spreading it along the silver spike.

~Beautiful.~ he murmured mentally. ~ You are every bisexual human's dream. Do you realize that?"

He moved himself into position, and began to slide his cock into the valve which tightened itself around him, to be just the right size ... tight ... so very tight and smooth and perfect.

~Every mech and femme has the same configuration,~ Jazz murmured around the pleasure. He brought his hands down to stroke Miles with cables and fingers, enjoying the sensations of being with such an eager and versatile organic.

Miles practically purred at the stroking, before finding a rhythm, slow at first, but building in intensity. If someone had asked him to describe the sensation of his cock being cocooned and enveloped by the alien valve, he was sure he would not be able to find the words. It was the very familiarity yet so very alien nature of it all making it so very hot to the curious young human mind. Warm ... wet ... but not at all organic from the electric tingles that seemed to flow up him with each strong thrust.

Licking his lips, he gave Jazz a predatory smile before reaching down to take some of the lube off of his now well coated cock and then wrapping both hands around the thick spike. At its natural size, he could bring his lips to it in a way only a yoga master could to a human. It was too wide for him to take in his mouth, so he caressed it and worshiped it with his lips and tongue, all the while increasing the pace of his thrusts.

~Beautiful,~ his mind whispered again.

Jazz's mind responded, but if it was in words, the mech was beyond translating them for his lover as he moaned and arched slightly. The only clear thing coming across was _feelsgood-Primusyes!-more!_ at various levels of intensity as he shivered under the assault of the charge building in his systems and the energy his spark was feeding on even though it was already gorged. Energy that was unconsciously shunted into the bond and to Prowl.

Jazz's own reaction slammed into Miles, undoing his final semblance of control. He began to thrust into Jazz with a wild abandon. No need to be careful, no need to be concerned with hurting the strong mech. His hands clung to the silver spike and he continued to ravage its tip with his mouth and tongue. He could feel once again the delicious thrill of his own pleasure and life energy flowing into Jazz's spark, and ... perhaps in the distance another presence, but he was far too incoherent for that to be but a passing thought as he slammed into the mech again and again.

Jazz threw his head back and keened, his voice quickly leaving audible range but still penetrating Miles' every cell. Clawed hands left Miles to grab the berth. The valve clenched tightly around him, just loose enough not to hurt him but tighter than anything else he'd experienced as a shock of translucently silvery liquid spurted from the tip of Jazz's spike.

Jazz's overload slammed into Miles like a tsunami, his own orgasm joining the mech's in a spiral of fiery pleasure that raced through him, feeding back and forth to a point that it became completely overwhelming to the blond in its intensity. The last thing he saw in his mind before briefly blacking out was a blindingly bright star, and another more distant one pulsing in perfect unison.

He came back to awareness moments later to find himself slumped over, his face and chest splashed with the silvery fluid and resting against Jazz's abdomen, his rod still buried deep in Jazz's valve. He was bewildered to find tears mixed with Jazz's fluid on his face when all he felt was a lazy bliss.

Awareness of Jazz's gentle fingers stroking his back in a soothing manner came next, then the somehow-strange lack of awareness of the mech himself.

"Hey," he mumbled, "where did ya go?" he reached back and found the socket empty, leaving him with a fleeting sense of loss that was quickly replaced with the purely embodied contentment.

"I guess I got a little overwhelmed," he said a bit sheepishly.

"Perfectly normal," Jazz assured him, still stroking his back. "It's a lot to take in early on."

Miles didn't want to move ... like ever. He could easily fall asleep with his softening cock still inside the mech's valve as Jazz's skilled claw-tipped fingers stroked his skin. Another tear rolled down his messy cheek. But instead of the tears from the morning, this one was from thankfulness and warmth.

"I suppose I should ... like ... clean up or somethin'," he said with a lazy laugh, "but I don't want to move."

"It's no hurry," Jazz's smooth voice washed over him. "Our wash rack will still be there when you feel like movin'."

Miles knew that too long in this particular position would lead to him being even more sore than he was likely to be, so reluctantly he pulled out of the silver mech's smooth valve and curled in so that he was resting with his arms wrapped as far as they could go around his waist, his head still resting on his abdomen.

"Well, good, then I won't hurry. Just gonna trust you to tell me when I need to get moving, dude."

He was quiet for a few minutes, and then whispered. "Thanks Jazz, really. There just aren't words for it, dude."

"You're welcome, Miles," he said softly and relaxed to wait until the human was ready to clean up and return to the real world.


	16. The Naturalists 7: Human Options

**Fandom:** Transformers Bayverse  
**Author**: and  
**Pairing:** Mirage/Hound/Alicia Rodriguez  
**Rating:** NC-17 for male/female/male  
**Codes:** Slash, Het, Sticky, Xeno (mech/human), Holoforms, Bondage  
**Summary:** Mirage is restless with Alicia stuck sleeping in a berth apart from them, and eventually decides to sleep with her the only way he can right now, and Hound likes the idea.  
**Notes:** Written in the Dathanna de Gray fanverse

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The Naturalists 07: Human Options

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Alicia woke slowly, gently, from sleep in her bed at the head of Mirage and Hound's berth when a soft touch of lips against her neck snapped her to awareness in an instant.

A broad, strong male body was pressed against her back, partially supporting her. She was draped across another male body, a much more lightly built one. The smell of the body near her face was so familiar, arousing. She shifted in confusion. It felt amazing to be sandwiched between two male bodies, and it felt absolutely right to have them there. She finally decided that Hound and Mirage must have plugged into her during the night and were feeding her an amazing fantasy.

"Am I dreaming?" she asked warmly. "If so, it is an amazing dream, so don't wake me up."

She pushed herself further into the embrace of the muscular body behind her while wrapping her arms around the man she was draped across, burying her face in his hair and languidly drinking in his aroma.

"Not dreaming," Mirage's smooth Spanish purred against her as they both began to stroke and pet her. "Holoforms. We can't recharge with you in our berth until we have claimed you, so we came to yours."

Alicia reached behind her to appreciatively run her hand along the muscular form holding her from behind, while nuzzling in to kiss the neck in front of her. She still wasn't quite sure she believed it wasn't a dream.

"Holoforms? But I can _feel_ you. Ah well ... technology beyond my comprehension, I know. Can you feel me this way ... because I have to admit, the possibilities are _very_ interesting."

She ran her hand along the man's ... Mirage's hairless chest, stopping to rest where she found course hair at the base of his abdomen. She felt his muscles quiver under her fingers, and the breathless gasp.

"Yes, we feel you," Mirage tipped her face up for a long, tender kiss. "And each other."

"Not quite the same sensations as our own bodies, but very pleasurable," Hound added with a kiss to the back of her neck.

Alicia felt her body heating up between them as she melted into the kiss and ran her fingers through Mirage's dark hair. Not wishing to be unfair, she moved to her back and pulled Hounds face toward hers as well, pulling him in for a long sensuous kiss when Mirage moved his lips down to her breast.

"Dios mio, yet another way to find you both utterly devastating," she murmured, her hands running along both of them.

"May we plug in, share with you?" Hound's request slid across her ears like fine silk. His hands caressed her side, her flank, then teased the stiff hair above her sex with fingertips while his palm rested on her hip.

Mirage's fingers joined Hounds, caressing them as much as her as he circled a nipple with his tongue.

"Oh, you two don't ever need to ask. My socket is yours." Her hips bucked up to bring her clit in contact with the teasing fingers even as her toes curled from the attention Mirage lavished on her nipple.

Slender fingers, Mirage's she was sure, slid further down to indulge her while Hound twisted and reached up to grab the joint-connection cable his frame was lowering to them.

The swollen lips of her labia were parted by skilled, gentle fingers. Then one finger slowly stroked from her vaginal opening to her clit while both men rubbed against her, showing her by feel that they were ready for her.

The velvety hardness of their desire made her gasp even as she bucked her hips into Mirage's fingers, pleasuring her with intimate knowledge of _exactly_ what would quickly make her lose control. Then Hound sensually circled the end of the cable around her socket before slowly pushing it in suggestively. She was suddenly flooded with just how strong their desire was, for her and for one another.

"I want you, want you both so much," she said in a husky, breathless voice as she reached down, her fingers joining Mirage's for a moment to collect some of her own nectar before reaching down and to encircle each of their erections, massaging in her own juices into their velvety tips and slits.

Hound moaned and pressed into her hand as his own began to explore more, one hand coming up to squeeze and rub the breast that Mirage wasn't still lavishing with attention. The noble just gasped and shuddered, his fingers never loosing rhythm as he curled against her a bit more.

~Want you,~ Mirage's thoughts pressed against hers, thick with physical desire but also with the desire to claim. Oh, he wanted to claim her so badly.

Alicia was so slick, so ready, waiting to be filled, to be taken. She arched into both of their touches...breasts, vulva, fingers and hands igniting her ~Then take me, claim me, both of you. I already belong to you. You know it is what I want.~ She accompanied her desire with a stroke of each of their erection to make her point.

She felt the pair come completely undone at her words and the certainty behind them. Hound rumbled deeply and pressed against her back. Mirage moaned and trembled, using his free hand to draw her hand away from his cock so he was free to sink into her body with a smooth, slow stroke.

Hound pulled her head to the side to claim her mouth in a desperate kiss, the knowledge that neither would last long too close to the forefront of the pleasure. Their primal desire to have her thrust into her mind, sending her soaring, leaving her both deeply embodied in her own flesh while also ascending, unaware of where her growing pleasure began and theirs ended.

~Oh yes,~ she moaned in her mind.

~So beautiful,~ Mirage murmured, his thrusts slow and even still, even as he trembled in his efforts to control himself. With the words was a distinct impression it wasn't a reference to her looks, but rather her inner self; her strength of life, her passion, her desires and how hot her emotions ran.

Alicia come completely undone by what Mirage was telling her without words even as he lovingly sunk into her depths. It was one thing to be desired for ones flesh, but quite another to be _known_ the way the two were coming to know her, the way she was coming to know them. It was desire and beauty and love on a completely different level. She felt that it would be quite possible to climax simply from that feeling alone. She wrapped a leg and arm around Mirage fiercely, while her other arm pulled Hound even tighter into her lips, trying to express with her body what her mind was too overwhelmed to say.

She felt Mirage shift when Hound pulled away, giving his bonded full access to her. The strong, lithe royal Spanish body rested over her completely, pressing against her as their hips rocked and he claimed her mouth. He caught her hands and pinned them against the bed by her head as his thrusts pick up speed, the needs of this body harder for him to control.

~Come for me, my beauty.~ Mirage's mind wrapped itself around hers, almost desperate to please her completely.

~Yes ... please ... harder, take me harder, love,~ she cried out to the mind enveloping her, knowing that he could fully see in her how very much she loved and adored and accepted everything he was, how much she wanted to be his, how much everything he was and gave her and gave to Hound did _fully_ please her. She arched back and cried out as his thrusts became harder and more urgent, her climax taking her by surprise.

"Mirage!"

~Yes,~ Mirage cried out against her mind, her orgasm triggering his own. His face pressed against her throat, his hips jerking against hers as he shot sterile semen into her body with whimpered grunts, his hands clutched against hers as he shook.

Alicia wrapped her arms around him as he shook, their combined climax still moving through her in tingling waves. She stroked his back and murmured, "Oh my Mirage, my beautiful mech, my love."

He continued to twitch after she'd settled down; kissing her neck and catching his breath as the languid afterglow made his body want to melt. "So beautiful," he finally murmured as he lifted himself up and kissed her tenderly. "Feel up to letting Hound have a turn?"

She returned his kiss and responded, "Mmmmm," sounding like she had just tasted something sinfully good. She turned to look at the Hound's devastatingly handsome and rugged holoform and gave him a predatory smile. "Absolutely."

"Good," Hound rumbled and rolled over to claim her mouth while Mirage pulled out of her body and gave his bonded room to take their lover. ~You are beautiful,~ he added across the connection as his hands explored her body, intent on taking some time. ~A lovely body, but such a beautiful soul.~

It was amazing, she thought, to be able to enjoy each of them, one at a time. So different, each so strong and loving in unique ways. Their love for one another was epic, and mind blowing to watch and share in when they were connected to her during their lovemaking. But she also realized as their masculine human forms lavished attention on her that a very small part of her had been feeling alone in those moments, and that being the focus of their attention was not only exquisitely sexy, it gave her a reassurance that she hadn't even realized she had needed.

~You picked a wonderful human form to express who you are Hound, but it is that bright star inside of you and the one in Mirage that I love, that I have the privilege to care for.~ She said it and she meant it.

A warm presence wrapped around her mind in response and Hound moaned at the intensity of her feelings. He kissed her neck, his hands exploring her body more roughly than usual in the urgency his holoform was telling him of.

And she responded to the urgency, wanting again to be claimed, owned by the urgent, powerful masculine presence in her mind, wanting to feel him go out of control and to _not_ be gentle with her, as gentle as he was. She moaned as his hands moved over her with abandon and his lips crushed hers once more. She wrapped her legs around his waist and began shamelessly grinding her hot wet cunt against the front of his cock.

Hound shuddered and grunted, responding just as strongly to her desires as his own. He shifted and grabbed her thighs, forcing them down and apart so her knees were even with her hips.

He took a deep, shuddering breath and met her eyes, silently asking if this was really what she wanted. Warning her that there wasn't any stopping if she said yes.

"Take me," she demanded in a low, sultry voice with an intense look that bordered on deadly. "Don't hold anything back."

Both males shivered at her tone. Hound thrust his hips forward, sinking into her deliciously slick, welcoming body with a grunt when their groins hit. He growled, pulled his hips back and thrust forward again, this time leaning forward to make sure he rubbed and pressed against her clit as hard as he could with each motion.

Alicia cried out, her first climax hitting her almost immediately as he thrust into her with a skillful brutality, ravaging her clit and her cunt with each powerful invasion. "Oh God, yes!" she cried vocally and in her mind. ~Don't hold anything back. I want all of you. Take me with your body and you mind.~

She felt them both shudder again before Hound complied, eagerly wrapping his mind around hers, sinking into every crevasse of her psyche as he took her body with all his strength.

Suddenly he pulled out, turned her over, pushed her shoulders down and pulled her ass up before slamming into her sex once more and pressing his chest down along her back.

Alicia, in this position, felt utterly controlled and claimed, just like she wanted to be. She might be feisty and fiercely independent outside of bed, but something she had long known, and been embarrassed of in the past was just how much she wanted to be dominated in the bed. But there was no embarrassment here. She was already laid bare before the mechs. They knew her psyche, knew her very soul and still wanted her. And how amazing it was to let go of any pretense of control and give in to those desires. She could feel their psychic shudder inside her, both amazed at the rawness of her need.

And this time it was her turn to demand, again her voice low with lust, "Come for me, Hound. I want to feel you come inside me."

He groaned against her shoulder blade, nipped at it almost hard enough to draw blood and began to fuck her hard.

Suddenly her face was lifted off the bed and she found herself looking into the wide, wild chocolate brown eyes of her Spanish lover.

"Suck me off," Mirage's voice was low, full of need and want that was purely in response to her desires and his desire to fulfill them.

She cried out as Hound took her hard, causing her body to shudder to his demanding rhythm. She wrapped her hand around the noble's holoform but so very real cock and forced herself to focus away from her own growing climax so she could lavish it with attention, licking it from base to tip before swirling her tongue around the head, tasting his seed and her own fluids on him. She noticed that Hound had put extra weight on her to prevent her from moving so much and had eased in his thrusts so that she could give his bonded the attention he deserved. In her minds eye, she imagined doing the same to them in their natural form, and realized that it was every bit as hot of an image as what was before her now.

Licking her lips with a seductive smile, she stared into Mirage's eyes as she took him into her mouth, swirling her tongue around him, gently sucking and beginning to build a rhythm while she cupped his balls in her hand.

They both moaned, one from the sensations, the other from the sight. Their movements began to synch up, both thrusting forward at the same moment to push her into the other and both pulling back at the same moment to set it up again.

Mirage worked one hand behind her head, bracing and controlling her with a light but firm touch while his other hand reached for his bonded to pull Hound forward into a long, passionate kiss that spiked their desire for her and the joint orgasm that was building between them.

The rhythm, the utter wantonness of it all had Alicia trembling. But more than that was again the blast of shared sensation as the three coupled and the exquisite feedback loop of shared pleasure began. She wanted nothing more than to lose herself in these two mechs that she loved. ~Come for me, both of you. Fill me the way you've already filled my heart.~

Her words set them off, both grunting as their hips thrust forward to pump the first of many shots of semen into her body as they continued to kiss each other almost frantically.

They could have so much power over her, yet here they not only indulged her every whim, but she also could command them.

Alicia's own final climax was triggered by their prolonged waves of pleasure as they did exactly what she had asked of them. Hound pumping into her, filling her with his hot seed triggered her sex to contract rhythmically on his shaft, as if milking him for all that he could give. It took no effort to swallow what Mirage gave to her mouth, because it somehow tasted exactly of him...the same scent that was such an aphrodisiac to her senses. She wasn't able to cry out, her mouth filled with Mirage's spurting rod, but mentally she called out both of their names as her body and mind took flight in their shared release.

Despite the intense pleasure, she couldn't miss when Mirage's holoform lost its solid nature, then flicked out half a heartbeat later.

Hound caught her before she could fall forward from where Mirage had been supporting her. Alicia gasped in surprise, and then began to shake with quiet laughter.

"ummm...are you ok Mirage?" she asked, smirking and almost giggling in reaction to the mixture of embarrassment for the utter depravity of the fantasy the two had just indulged her in along with superb satisfaction at the way she had been so thoroughly used.

~Yes,~ his mind came across the cable link, content and hazy with lingering pleasure. ~Solid holoforms take a great deal of focus and energy to maintain. It felt too good to maintain my focus.~

Against her back, Hound nibbled her shoulder and neck, his arousal still hot between them. ~Still want to be _used_ by us, completely?~ he asked.

~Well, if I were a ... holoform did you call it ... I definitely would have disappeared by now.~

Her laugh became a hiss as Hound nibbled on her neck again and she felt just how aroused he still was.

~You, lover, are insatiable. It is a good thing that I am, too. Yes ... since you now know how very much I enjoy being _used_ ... though I'm a little worried that I won't be able to walk tomorrow if things keep going on this way.~

~And this is an issue because?~ Hound teased her playfully, rubbing his hands across her shoulders, over her breasts and down to her raised hips.

~I guess the ability to walk is overrated, especially since I have such fine mechs to carry me around like a little puppy. ~

She arched lazily into his touch, still relaxed from her previous climax, and said aloud. "So just how do you plan to _use_ me this time?"

Hound rumbled against her back, then turned her over and gently drew her hands above her head. There was a light thump of something landing next to her, and she found her wrists bound by a soft rope and secured above her.

She felt a shiver of heated arousal move from somewhere near her heart, down her limbs and to her toes before centering on her well-used sex which was once again tightening in anticipation. Her face lit up in a wicked grin and she licked her lips seductively. "Well now, you seem to have figured out my kinks. It seems that _someone_ has been reading my mind, hmmm?"

"You've made your enjoyment of being dominated very clear," he moved up her body to claim her mouth.

She felt a second set of hands begin to tie her knees and ankles apart, rotating her pelvis to expose her sex fully and allowing Hound to rub his hard cock along it's entire length as he devoured her mouth.

She moaned into his mouth as he greedily took her there. It was perfect ... so perfect, this feeling of being completely at their mercy. She trusted them so much, and she was floored being able to be able to completely let go, to allow herself to live out her own secret desires that had before now existed only at the level of fantasy. She had simply never had someone that she could trust in this way.

Alicia arched her back, pushing her sex harder into the hot cock that was rubbing along it.

~I want you ... I want you so much it hurts.~

~You'll have us,~ both her lovers promised.

~Would you like to be taken by _us_?~ Mirage asked, a glyph-thought added to mean their mech bodies, not these holoforms.

"Yes!" she cried out loud, surprising even herself for choosing that over the warm masculine flesh that was rubbing against her so deliciously.

"Good," Mirage's natural voice rumbled over her as Hound's holoform dissipated. The sleek blue and white mech moved to lay next to her bed and ghosted his slender fingers down her body, pausing to tease her nipples before continuing down.

Alicia closed her eyes and arched into the sensuous touch, pulling at her bonds and began to tremble in anticipation of being completely at the mercy of the two giants who were her lovers. Their size and deadly strength would bring her to a whole new level of delicious helplessness.

"Tell me, my lovely pet, what would reduce you to mindless begging for my spike?" Mirage's royal voice rolled over her in a nearly physical caress.

It was official, Alicia thought. The pet thing was officially a kink for her now. All Mirage had to do was say it and her cunt clenched as a jolt of arousal ran to it straight from her chest.

"Taste me. See if I taste good enough for you spark to feed on." she answered in a voice low with need.

She felt more than heard his engine rev as he shifted to the foot of her bed and lowered his head, his glossa very lightly sliding along her sex from bottom to top, then swirled around to slide down the right side and up the left, only to press in a bit to tease her clit.

In the background she could feel how intensely erotic this was for Hound to watch.

Knowing Mirage as she did now, how much his core programming rebelled from fluids and fleshly things, she continued to be amazed at just _how_ much he desired her. He _wanted_ to do this to her, to not simply share with her through his coupling with Hound, which was spectacular enough. But he was hungry for her, to directly pleasure her body with his own pristine frame. She cried out as he probed her deeply with his glossa, and then pulled it languidly out of her with a swirl.

"Yes, you definitely taste good enough to feed on," Mirage rumbled, his voice deep and hungry. "You are good enough to sire on if it was possible."

She felt instant longing. "They would be amazing children, Mirage, with you or Hound as a father." She truly wished it were possible ... so much preferable to a human mate.

~Possible,~ he murmured, surprised by his own reaction even as he continued to explore her swollen, pulsing sex with his glossa. ~Not soon, but possible.~

~Don't go there, love,~ Hound warned him, even though he couldn't hide how much the idea appealed to him.

Alicia's head was briefly filled with images of child-versions of both of the mech's holoforms before she was driven to incoherence by Mirage's attention and was whimpering and straining against her bonds.

~When can you claim me? I _want_ to be yours...please...ay mother of God I want to belong to both of you.~

~When...~ Mirage paused, looking at her, then Hound.

~When we are all sure it is the right choice for the rest of your life,~ Hound answered, his mind trembling as badly as Mirage's body.

No, neither wanted to wait. They simply refused to rush in and make a mistake again, even if Mirage was utterly certain she was right for them and Hound had no argument but time against it.

Alicia took a deep breath and calmed herself down, forcing her animal brain to become rational again.

~Mi madre did always tell me not to make major decisions while lying naked in bed.~

~Your mother spoke wisely,~ Mirage forced his desire to claim back down as he continued to stimulate her sex with his glossa, trying to drive her to overload before he filled her with his spike.

Alicia lost herself in both his hot desire and his expert working of her throbbing sex, spiraling to that place where she had no thoughts at all, and only felt. Her climax hit her like an ocean wave, gentle at first and then breaking with intensity as she cried out, her fingers holding on for dear life to the ropes which bound her wrists.

She shuddered and cried out involuntarily when Mirage's warm, hard spike slid inside her and he began to thrust, deep and hard enough for her to feel the power of his frame looming over her without hurting her.

The ecologist reveled in the sheer power of Mirage's thrusts inside of her, marveling that his frame could be this controlled when he could so easily crush her. He moved inside her hard enough to come close to pain, but stopping just short so that instead each claiming movement drove her to the heights of pleasure. Despite her powerlessness, somehow being the center of attention for a being so powerful made her feel, at the moment, like the center of the universe.

She wanted to scream and pant and cry that she loved him, that she loved them, but it was the one thing she held back, not knowing if those were words that ever would or could be returned, and not knowing if she could bear it if they weren't.

~As much as I can love an organic,~ Mirage's thoughts ghosted across hers, the pleasure of his frame a roiling ecstasy behind his awareness.

~I do,~ Hound joined the thought, opening up more to _show_ her that love.

Their thoughts, even Mirage's qualified one, broke a dam within her, and she was crying out that she loved them, that she belonged to them, that she was theirs and would do anything for them, each thrust bringing a new declaration to her lips until she was nearly incoherently repeating "I love you, love you both so much, love you, love you" as her climax swept her away.

Mirage shuddered, his internal fans and vents cycling hard to cool his frame as he suddenly pulled out, his transfluid spraying over his body as electricity danced across his frame and he cried out his ecstasy above her.

Hound rumbled eagerly and knelt by her bed, turning his bonded's head to kiss him soundly.

~You must really like her,~ Hound murmured gently into a second kiss. ~I've never seen you so ready to claim a socket before.~

~I could not trust myself not to this time,~ reaching down to rub his fluids into her heaving chest in circular motions. ~Just had to find the right one,~ The noble leaned forward to kiss him once more before shifting to stand, then sprawl on their berth so he could watch laying on his front.

Alicia was still panting and shuddering after her intense shared climax, her eyes closed. She opened her eyes to see them kiss and barely caught the words that passed between them.

She tried to reach out to Hound in a caress, but found her hands still tied. She smiled at him warmly.

~Am I going to get yet another turn? You think I can handle it?~

~I think you can handle anything,~ Hound rumbled, leaning down to kiss her abdomen, teasing sensitized skin with his glossa as he lapped up his bonded's fluids. ~You've won over my Raj. You have no idea how difficult that is.~

Her body was still so exquisitely sensitive, and so well used, a delightful contradiction of completely sated and gently aroused ~You both won me over. I never believed in love at first sight until I watched you overload your noble beauty by my camp. I've been like a bee drawn to nectar ever since. I'm not sure what I possibly could have done in life to deserve this and the two of you.~

~Your mind was open to it,~ Hound continued to clean her, his glossa swirling around her breasts, teasing her nipples. ~You relish life, learning, your passion. Without these things, you would not appeal to us.~

Her skin tingled with each caressing sweep of Hound's glossa, and she whimpered as he brushed over her hypersensitive nipples. Even spent as she was, his desire pumped into her through their connection, reigniting her. ~God was looking after me when I ran into the two of you. Let me feed you, my love.~

~Anytime, in any way, you desire,~ Hound's affection and honesty washed through her as he shifted and slowly, tortuously slowly, pressed his thick, long spike into her twitching, slick, well-used pussy.

It was tormenting in the best sort of way, be filled this slowly, feeling her lover's own perception washing into her in waves as she clenched his spike with her sex, as if to pull him inside of her. She arched her back, straining against her bonds trying to force him to impale her fast and deep, but he held back, amusement flashing across the connection at her wanton neediness for him.

~Don't make me beg,~ she laughed said, laughing inwardly at her own desperation for him.

~Never,~ he rumbled, both amused and reassuring until he finally hilted inside her, the tip of his spike just barely short of her cervix before he pulled out and pressed into her again with a thrumming hum of building pleasure. ~You feel so good.~

The sound of hydraulics and gears moving had become utterly erotic to her. Already so sated, she was able melt into each of her sensations, to focus on her tiny body coming together with his giant one, to inhale the scent that was uniquely Hound - somehow blending the smell of alien alloys and fluids with something deeply organic and wild. She focussed on Mirage's shared perceptions and saw his utter devotion to his bonded as he gazed on Hound's generous face whose blue optics were so full of love and good humor as he gently ravaged her. She focused on Hound's sensations, the amazing alien pleasure of his sated spark lazily drinking up not only her physical pleasure, but also her joy and love, his growing charge and excitement, his absolute hunger to give her pleasure and happiness. It truly was an amazing symbiosis ... filling an empty part of her that she had not even known was there as fully as his thick spike filled her throbbing sex.

She focused her mind and heart completely on her bonded pair of lovers, sending her love, desire, and devotion to their sparks with all the strength she could muster, her whole being alight with thankfulness that she had these two amazing beings to care for and nourish with herself.

~I do so love you both, and how you love one another. You complete each other, and you both complete me.~

Hound shuddered and pulled out, like his bonded, unable to trust himself not to claim her. With a howl his hot transfluid spilled over her body. He shifted his weight so he could jerk himself off for the last few spurts before he stilled, his systems still cascading through his overload triggering an almost languid climax to sweep through the lovely human. He gently picking her trembling body up and brought them both to the berth so he could hold his bonded and his human lover close.

"So, who is going to give their little pet human a bath?" a very well-used Alicia snickered.

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| Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | 


	17. Sunny Side Up 3: Mother Hens

**Fandom:** Transformers Bayverse  
**Author:** gatekat, prophetbot on LJ  
**Pairing:** Sunstreaker/Sideswipe/Shimmerfire  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Codes:** Slash, Het, Twincest  
**Summary:** Sunstreaker isn't the only one worried about his brother's condition. Shimmerfire joins him in fretting over Sideswipe when the silver mech finally starts coming to.  
**Notes**: Written in the Dathanna de Gray fanverse **"text"** translated Cybertronian.

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Sunny Side Up 3: Mother Hens

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This wasn't the first time Ratchet had shooed him out of the recovery wing of the base's makeshift hospital. On the side built specifically for the mechs, he was perfectly able to move and walk around in base form. But now he was angry, lingering in the hall while the medic swore at him for not recharging since the battle, and even more for not doing so when he was supposed to be 'taking it easy' with his right arm. In all honesty, Sunstreaker couldn't give a spark. It was set in his processor that he had promised Sideswipe he would be back, so he therefore wanted to be the first one the silver mech saw when he woke up.

Sunstreaker was starting his own string of Cybertronian cuss words, his servos animating his words as he stalked back and forth in the hallway, torn between not wanting to get sedated by Ratchet and trying to get the medic to cave and let him stay in the room with his brother.

"How is he?" a femme's low voice asked from several feet above his audios.

Had he been focused enough, he wouldn't have been so surprised to hear Shimmerfire's voice above him. "...'Fire," he huffed, glaring a bit as Ratchet took the opportunity to end the conversation there. "Tch. He's fine, according to _Ratchet_. But he hasn't woken up yet."

For the hundredth time, Sunstreaker brushed across his brother's consciousness through their bond, unsettled when he still wasn't responded to.

Shimmerfire glanced towards the medic and the still silver form of Sideswipe. "Has he ever been wrong before?"

The ridge above one of Sunstreaker's optics twitched slightly and the golden mech glanced away, hardened. "...No."

Shimmerfire shifted restlessly, then settled against the wall with a huff and watched Sideswipe's still form, willing to wait it out.

Sunstreaker sighed, irritated, and shifted closer to the berth where Sideswipe was resting, optics dimming as he took in how still his brother was. Over the past several hours, he'd been conversing with an unresponsive brother through their bond on completely random topics. Sometimes he would bring up memories of their upbringing, or chastise himself over not having helped to find a socket for precisely this reason.

~Shimmerfire's here. I guess she's worried about you too.~

Sill there was silence.

"If he wakes up in the next ten joor, it'll only be until I can sedate him again," Ratchet huffed at the golden warrior. "When have I ever lied to you about his odds?"

Sunstreaker bristled at the sound of the medic, but he didn't glance up from his brother's frame, simply brushing a couple of fingers over Sideswipe's arm. "I know, you haven't," the worried mech snapped, turning his frustration into anger, which wasn't unlike him. "It doesn't matter. I'm going to stay here until he wakes up, and then when he does I'll ease up."

"If you can talk to him for half a breem, will you go to your berth and _stay_ there for eight joor?" Ratchet demanded, a question that drew Shimmerfire over.

Sunstreaker hesitated, his optics looking toward Shimmerfire as she hovered closer to the berth that Sideswipe rested on. "That... is agreeable." He wasn't sure if he would rest for exactly eight joor, but he could finally rest so long as he knew his brother wouldn't be wondering where he was.

"All right," the medic grumbled and injected a small amount of something into one of the lines feeding Sideswipe.

Less than ten nanokliks later, Sunstreaker felt his brother pushing toward consciousness and reaching for him. It'd be a bit longer before he'd be coherent enough for words, but they both relaxed at the full awareness of the other's presence.

~Bro.~ Sideswipe's processors were still heavily muddled with sedatives and pain, but he was there.

Really, Sunstreaker should have just waited; he was chastising himself even further when he felt the pain himself, coming from his brother. ~Sides, I'm here.~ Giving no concern to the optics that may have been on them, Sunstreaker leaned closer to the berth and knelt beside it, pressing a soft kiss against the back of his twin's hand.

~Thanks,~ Sideswipe murmured with a huge wash of gratitude and relief as his optics powered up part of the way to _look_ at the golden mech. ~Good to know, see, you got back 'n one piece. Now go rest, ya glitch.~ "You too, Shim," he managed to say through the static of an improperly booted vocalizer. "Sure Prowl doesn't wanta here."

"No," she admitted, shifting uneasily until she apparently made up her mind and stepped forward to brush her fingers along the hand Sunstreaker wasn't monopolizing. "Had to see if you were okay."

~I'm good now,~ Sideswipe murmured to his brother, his optics powering down.

Sunstreaker couldn't help a small chuckle. As if Shimmerfire could hear the conversation they were having through the bond. It just proved how out of it Sideswipe still was. ~Sorry for waking you up, Sides. I didn't want you to think even for a klik that I wasn't here with you.~

~I know,~ he whispered back with another wave of gratitude for waking him, no matter how much he hurt.

Slowly, Sunstreaker got back to his feet, glancing toward Ratchet as proof that he wouldn't take up any more of his brother's time while Sideswipe was still in pain and needing rest.

The medic was quick to sedate the silver mech again.

"Now." Ratchet looked at the hovering pair. "Your own berths or the same one, I don't care, but I don't want either of you to get up for at least eight joor. Got it?"

"Yes, sir," Shimmerfire nodded, even if she looked a little confused. It wasn't as if she'd been injured in the battle.

Satisfied with proving to his brother that he was there, Sunstreaker huffed at Ratchet's order but complied silently, giving Sideswipe one last look as he headed towards the door with Shimmerfire close behind.

"Have you gotten any recharge since the battle?" he asked her, though his processor was still in far too many places. Now that he had fewer worries than before, though, he could feel how much energy he didn't have, and his indicators were warning him of what he already knew.

"No." She shook her head and reached into her subspace to pull out a full energon cube. "Jazz insisted I take one for you." She offered it to him. "Said you probably hadn't had any."

"Well, then, we have a similar place to be, and I bet our quarters are closer than yours." He tried not to dwell on the thought of how long it had been since he didn't have the option of recharging alongside his brother, and instead gingerly took the cube Shimmerfire offered. He grunted in thanks rather than offering the word.

Though Sunstreaker wasn't sure he'd be able to stomach energon at the moment. What he really knew he was needing was a socket to feed off of.

"It is, and your berth is big enough." She smiled softly at him. "It sounded like Sideswipe might be able to rest with you tomorrow," she added a little hesitantly, unsure what was bothering the frontliner enough that he didn't drink. Even she could read that his fuel status was low enough that Ratchet would come after him if he didn't refuel and recharge soon.

"It is," he affirmed, turning the cube around between his fingers. "And if he does, that's exactly what he'll be doing - resting." After a few nanokliks, he pushed the cube into subspace and gave her questioning look a shake of his head. "I'll save it for later."

Despite being uneasy about it, she didn't argue with him as she followed him to his quarters.

Sunstreaker's leading pace was fairly slow, giving them a longer, but still brief, time outside before they reached the officer barracks and he led them into the quarters he shared with Sideswipe. "Did you explain your situation to Command?" he asked, mostly conversationally, but also because he was a bit curious as to what they might have said or done.

"I explained as best I could, but Tread Bolt did most of the talking," she admitted uneasily, shifting from pede to pede. "Turns out there was a lot my carrier never got to tell me about being a mature Seeker."

Catching hint of her unease, he sighed, settling on the edge of the berth and rubbing a hand over his helm. "From what I understand, it isn't your fault. Sideswipe knows, which is why I know. That spark merge the other day with you got him in one of his funks."

Sunstreaker laid back, shifting so that there was plenty of room for Shimmerfire. "He has sparklings on the processor."

"I'm sorry," she murmured and crawled onto the berth, settling herself alongside him and a bit curled around the golden warrior. "I didn't mean to upset him. Or you."

He frowned, slowly moving an arm to wrap it around her shoulders - carefully, to avoid uncomfortably shifting her wings - as he relaxed. "It wasn't your fault. Actually, he thinks about it a lot. He said that it was just the first time someone wanted him like _that_."

Shimmerfire curled around him a little more, both seeking comfort and offering it. "But he'd make such a fine co-creator."

His optics glanced towards her, examining the look on her face. "I know he would." Sunstreaker puffed out hot air through his mouth plates, a sigh. "It's not something _I_ could ever give him, no matter how much he wants it."

She slowly stroked his back armor, a low crooning hum emitting from her systems. "That... doesn't make sense, but a lot doesn't make sense to me yet," she admitted quietly. "I thought all it took was two whole sparks."

It seemed that he was being constantly reminded just how young Shimmerfire really was, but for once he wasn't really bothered with having to explain. "Sideswipe and I were born as two halves of the same spark. To our knowledge, without two whole sparks a sparkling can't be created." His engine thrummed with contentment from her touches. "Which probably only makes Sideswipe want one even more."

"But there's no reason the whole spark that is Sideswipe and Sunstreaker can't use another whole spark to create a sparkling?" She seemed to think while she talked, trying to find the flaw in her own logic.

"Perhaps," he allowed, lifting his other arm to rap a claw tipped finger against her helm. "But if that were possible, it would be difficult. Sideswipe and I would have to connect both of our half sparks together, as well as connect to another whole one. Plus, I would have to _like_ the mech. Like I told you before, I'm picky."

"Like them, and really trust them." She nodded, snuggling in just a bit more as she continued to stroke his back and thrum. "Picky isn't a bad trait, you know. Not when you're making sparklings."

"Yeah. Trust doesn't come easy with me." Not that it wasn't common knowledge, and being a sociopath wasn't helping Sideswipe at all with his desires. "I know. Me being picky makes Sideswipe picky, because he's trying to please me, too."

Sunstreaker sighed again, rubbing at his own helm and dimming his optics slightly. "You're picky too, remember? I know you couldn't help it, but you had your optics firmly on Starscream." He made a low growl as he mentioned the name. Oh, the next time he happened to come into contact with Starscream in battle, he'd get his dose of revenge.

Her entire frame shivered, but he couldn't tell if it was out of desire or disgust. "I know," she whispered. "He's a blight on the universe, but he's the strongest Seeker alive too. I never thought I would react to him like... like he's Winglord," she shuddered again. "He shouldn't have that power anymore. He doesn't even use the title."

"You've got that right," he agreed, utter distaste for the cowardly Seeker evident in his vocals. "But you already know it's not your fault. It's hard to fight something you were coded with." Sunstreaker turned on his side so that he could pull Shimmerfire against him, letting the soft vibration and heat of his engine soothe her frame.

"Sideswipe doesn't want a sparkling because it's in his programming, though. He wants something to protect and fight for, something that's not me." He chuckled lightly, obviously finding some odd form of humor in that.

She hummed and relaxed, letting out a low, soft vent as her optics powered down. "Maybe you'll find someone to trust, eventually. It's a nice thing, to have someone."

"Yes, it is," Sunstreaker agreed, watching her observantly. He knew first hand that it was an amazing sensation to have someone, Sideswipe being the reason his spark pulsed in its chamber. But there was also the desire for something because it would make his other half happy. "Maybe. For now, let's recharge. If I think much more about this kind of stuff, my processor is going to short circuit."

In turn, his optics off-lined, and Sunstreaker took a brief internal scan of himself, deciding recharge was something he really needed. His processor touched on thoughts of Sideswipe and Shimmerfire just before finally falling to the necessity of sleep.

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_~You live, my Sunshine.~_

If his brother's voice hadn't been so laced with exhaustion and pain, it just may have been soothing. But it was strange how his vocal processor wouldn't allow him to muster a response. Hazed and irritated, the golden mech transformed into his alternate form, speeding beyond normal capacity down a darkened, narrow corridor. He couldn't stop, and as he continued onward he could practically feel the walls pressing in on him. But somehow he knew Sideswipe was at the end, waiting for him.

Light exploded ahead of him, the same brilliant sun color as their shared spark, and suddenly Sunstreaker was falling. There was a strange thrill to the drop, but also a dread, one that worsened when his optics focused on his brother's horrified face just by where he was about to land.

He never hit the ground. The hissing scream of afterburners nearly busted his audio receptors, and instead of crashing dead weight into the Earth, he was supported by a jet whose coat distracted his optic sensors. _'But, Sides...'_

_'Do you trust me?'_ They rose higher and higher through the atmosphere. Sunstreaker hesitated, unable to see his other half from their position in the skies.

_'Yes.'_

'Recharge energy restored.'

Sunstreaker's indicator stirred him from recharge and crystalline optics slowly blinked online. Instead of getting up, though, he laid there, finding that he was staring at the ceiling while what was left of his strange dream slowly ebbed out of his consciousness. Eventually he did roll over, his chassis touching Shimmerfire's back. He huffed, wrapping strong arms around her waist. "Are you awake, 'Fire?" Without meaning to, his external scanners brushed over her still form.

That was enough to rouse her, at least for a grunt of semi-confirmation before she gradually uncurled her lithe, strong frame, testing her body before coming fully out of recharge.

Absently, Sunstreaker's mind commented that she hadn't recharged in many combat zones, only to have another part remind him that she was a Seeker; of course she hadn't.

"Getting there," she told him when she hit about half way through her boot sequence.

A gruff baritone suggested curt laughter, while a golden hand shifted to rub against one side of her elegant wings. "If you'd rather charge some more, feel free."

She rumbled pleasantly and pressed her wing into the contact.

Suddenly he tensed, engine whirring as he shifted his position in order to sit, optics returning to the ceiling almost as if he were looking through it. ~Sides? You awake yet?~

A light brush back against his awareness made him relax. His brother wasn't awake, but he wasn't in stasis or heavily sedated any more.

Sunstreaker grinned a bit, glad to know that Sideswipe wasn't in enough pain that he would need sedatives in order to recharge. "Sideswipe is resting," he informed her, sounding almost uplifted by the consciousness that brushed tiredly against his own before it disappeared. Sunstreaker didn't pursue it. "We can go see him in a little while if Ratchet lets us. I feel like getting a wash and maybe finding a socket first."

"And a good polishing?" she suggested as much as asked, her voice almost a chirp to go with the smile and long stretch. "Glad to hear he's feeling better."

Sunstreaker's vocal processor gave an electric sound of approval, knowing that his right arm especially needed a nice shine after the beating it had gotten in the battle. "Definitely. You can help me out and get my back then, and I'll do the same for you." Yes, ordinarily Sideswipe would be the one doing it for him, but seeing as his brother was resting, Sunstreaker had no problem with having Shimmerfire do it - strangely enough.

"Sounds good," she trilled and rolled off the berth with all the native grace of her kind before stretching her arms all the way up and rotating her wings in their full arc, something almost never seen by non-Seekers. "So do you know the Seeker dialect?"

Sunstreaker watched the Seeker stand and gave her body movements and question an interested quirk of an optic ridge. "Actually, no. Never thought to pick something like _that_ up." His vocal processor had the slightest hint of curiosity in it as he spoke and stood not long after she put on her little 'display'. "But I have a feeling you're willing to share."

"Well, since you haven't sheared my wings off for stupidity yet." She actually gave him a cheeky grin before heading to their wash rack. "It'd probably be useful. I _try_ to talk Autobot, but it's still a very distant third language for me. Seeker's what I'll use if I'm not paying attention. Some of the lingual... quirks... also kinda explain how our programming's written."

"You must be speaking modestly, 'Fire, because you sound fine to me," Sunstreaker grunted, reaching for the tap that turned on the water once he entered the stall. He hissed when he turned it on, a spray of extremely cold water hitting him right off the bat. "Slaggit... Sides _kindly_ left the cold water on for me," he grumbled. "Oh, I'm sure you have more quirks than just that," he lightly teased, turning the tap to a decent, warmer, temperature and spraying her with it, smirking.

"Given what I am, I'm sure," she chuckled and stepped under the multi-directional spray once Sunstreaker seemed satisfied. "Most of which I won't think to say anything about because they're normal to me."

"I could point them out as I see them," he offered, his smirk taking a smarmy turn. The golden mech gave an approving sound as the water soaked his frame, dampening the Earth grime that had managed to stick to him, as well as the dried energon in places he had been unable to reach after they returned from the battle.

"I expect you will," she chuckled and grabbed a cleaning rag, adding extra solvent to it before starting to work on cleaning his frame with the kind of precise care that usually only he did, or Sideswipe if he managed to guilt-trip his brother into a _real_ scrubbing down.

Sunstreaker found himself impressed by the amount of care and effort she put into the scrubbing. "Finally, someone who appreciates a good clean like I do," he chortled with satisfaction, grabbing a second rag to squirt solvent into so he could do the same to her where he could reach while she worked on him.

"It is a skill I learned early on," she trilled into a purr, her energy field flickering in honest enjoyment of her work. "When your best defense depends on being clean and shiny, you learn to enjoy the process, and do it well even without such nice supplies."

Sunstreaker's slightly dampened engine gave a broad sound, echoing throughout the stall and making it seem louder. "I guess your shimmer doesn't work as well when you're covered in Earth dust and other grime, hm?" He chuckled again, shifting a servo to rub deep circles on the Seeker's left wing. "I only do it because I'm picky about my paint. Armor looks much better when it isn't filthy."

"Yes, it does," she moaned and pressed her wing into the touch, her wing vibrating slightly in appreciation. "It makes you stand out in a way I like. Makes you look proud of your abilities."

"I'm _very_ proud of my abilities," he stressed, making sure to take extra care in wiping between the joint of her wings and her back. "All of them, actually. I'm not trying to stand out, but I probably would even if I didn't take care of my armor." He wasn't exactly known for his positive social interactions, after all.

Shimmerfire rumbled and worked down his chest, flexing and rotating her wing for him to gain access.

"I have little doubt you would," she trilled again in pleasure. "Everything about you says you're the best and you know it."

Sunstreaker snorted in absolute amusement, though he wasn't disagreeing with her statement in any way. Sideswipe was probably going to come home to an even more egotistical brother if she continued complimenting him like she was. "Which is another good reason to stick to myself. Not many get that type of attitude."

He lingered on her wings, since he knew they were her most treasured attribute, before moving more around her arms and working towards her torso.

When he reached her chest, it finally sunk in that she didn't have a cockpit in her design. It sent his processor back to when she was in alt mode, and no, he was fairly sure he didn't have one in that form either.

Curiously, he roamed the rag across her chest where a cockpit _would_ have been, massaging the area and using his fingers to pressurize and remove any possible imperfection. "'Fire, you upgraded your alternate mode when you came to this planet, didn't you? How come you don't have a cockpit where a human would usually sit?"

"It's a ROV design," she chuckled as she knelt to work on his lower chassis. "No pilot."

"Ah, for when the humans would rather send a machine to do a job they can't do themselves," he grunted, lifting his chin slightly while she wandered lower. "Smart choice. I would think a cockpit could be a weakness."

"They are, and they look ugly," she agreed. "Easier to break, and gives a way to hack into your systems... I really don't get why they'd want a craft with one. Besides, letting a _human_ sit inside you?" She shuddered in disgust at the idea. "No thank you. No cockpit, no chance Prime'll ask me to."

"Oh, yes, they do," he scoffed, chuckling, thinking of the awkward look a cockpit had on some Seekers' chests. He'd done his fair share of shattering the glass on Seekers' cockpits and damaging the area beneath, finding they came in handy for his benefit but not really for the 'Cons he took down.

"I don't know how the other mechs do it, really. I'm not that used to the humans yet. Sideswipe's been around them more, which is why they ride in _him_ when we bring a socket back to our quarters." Sunstreaker lifted the rag and began stroking it along her neck cables, then up even further to rub gently around her helm. When he was finished, he studied her a moment and lightly pressed a kiss to her lips.

"Thanks... for, you know, keeping me company today," he offered, diverting his optics and sticking his head under the spray.

"Anytime." Her voice was soft, and when he snuck a covert look at her face, the smile was genuine. So was the touch of her hands as she helped him rinse off. "Polish, wax?"

"Both?" he suggested, lifting a servo to help her guide her where the water would rid most of the suds from her frame. "Might as well look extra charming when we see Sideswipe later. We could even offer him the same when he's feeling up to it. A nice little thing to look forward to."

"Mmm, yes. He'll need a good, thorough cleaning after medbay." She shifted and wiggled her wings, arching and rotating them to both enjoy the water and get the cleaning solution off them. "Is he awake yet?"

Sunstreaker took more time than necessary to make sure no more of the solvent was left on their frames before finally turning the tap and shutting off the water flow. "And a nice buffing, maybe. He had a lot of dents and scratches from that fall." He suppressed an involuntary shudder at the thought. "No, he's still sleeping," he confirmed, almost subconsciously reaching out for Sideswipe through their bond, brushing his brother's mind soothingly. "He needs it."

"Then we have plenty of time for a proper detailing." She stretched and shivered in anticipation of being well and truly perfect for the first time in longer than she could recall. "And we'll definitely give him a complete and flawless cleaning and detailing when he feels strong enough to stand for it."

"A pampering will most likely help get him back on his feet," Sunstreaker pointed out, grabbing one of the larger towels hanging on a wall hook and helping Shimmerfire to dry her frame, wings first. "He'll need to get his energy up first, though. We need to go hunting."

Shimmerfire snickered and turned to help dry him off. "You actually made looking for a socket sound fun."

Once they were mostly dried, he trapped Shimmerfire's head in the towel, only several nanokliks later moving it so she could see. "It can be, if you end up finding the right one. I doubt I can find one I can hold more than a temporary attachment to, but Sideswipe'll be surprised if we bring him one. All the more reason to do it."

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| Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 |


	18. The Naturalists 8: Field Distraction

**Fandom:** Transformers Bayverse (POV'verse)  
**Author:** femme4jack, gatekat on LJ  
**Pairing:** Mirage/Hound/Alicia Rodriguez  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Warnings:** Het, Slash, Xeno (Transformer/Human)  
**Description:** With Mirage on a mission, Hound and Alicia take refuge in her field work to distract them from the fact that he's not only not there, but in a great deal of danger.  
**Notes:** Written in the Point of View fanverse (community .livejournal .com/tf_matrix)  
**"text"** translated Cybertronian.

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The Naturalists 8: Field Distraction

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Alicia shifted in her sleep, making a content sound at the warmth under her. In two days, they'd begun to sleep closer together, though always in a very careful arrangement born of her lovers knowing each other's recharge movements intimately. She knew it was stressful to them, but they both insisted it was acceptable out here. She had no doubt it was to protect her now that they weren't in the relatively safe confines of their quarters.

True to form, Mirage complained, made faces and generally made out that he was completely miserable, yet when she plugged into him, the level of his discomfort was significantly less than he made out.

Hound had simply snickered knowingly at her revelation.

She slowly opened her eyes from where she was lying, on top of Hound, a pillow laid on his chassis, his warmth bleeding through it. Turning her head to where she expected the elegant noble to be intertwined with his bonded, she only saw empty space.

"Mirage?" she called out, wondering where he was, a small kernel of worry settling into her stomach, a premonition or instinct that something was wrong.

"Jazz called him back before midnight," Hound told her without moving.

"Why?" she moved up to where she could look into Hound's optics. "What is going on, Hound?" She ran her hand along his face.

He vented, a decidedly unhappy sound. "Why is for a mission, an emergency one given he didn't see it coming. You're about to experience what's it's like being in love with a top spy."

Alicia leaned in, her face resting on his cheek plate. "I suppose it was inevitable, but I feel sick inside. How are you, love?"

"Unsettled," he admitted, bringing a finger up to stroke her. "This is the worst part, the first few orn while I get used to not having access to him. As soon as Jazz called him, I got a kiss goodbye and he closed off our bond. All I will know until he's been cleared from medical is that he's alive and believes he can get himself back."

"Why does he close the bond? I would think he would want the comfort of that connection while he is away."

A low grumble came from the large mech's engine. "It would be nice, but for him, it's a distraction he can't afford." He continued to stroke her as he tried to find the words to explain what even he didn't fully comprehend. "Mirage is ... different ... in the field. He brings up a personality program that's all SpecOps. Jazz does the same thing to Prowl. The mission is all that exists until they're back, report delivered and cleared to interact with the rest of us by Ratchet."

Alicia nodded, understanding. "He will be in a lot of danger, won't he, love? What can I do? How can I make it better for you?"

He smiled at her and continued to stroke her. "Yes, he is in danger, though it is very rare for him to be injured or captured. Your presence will be a great comfort. Simply knowing that someone will be coherent enough to call for help if I go down suddenly is worth a great deal."

"If you go down suddenly ... Of course I would do that. But would that be because you felt something ... something through the bond, Hound?"

"If means he's either dead, or so close he expects to survive no more than a few more seconds and is no longer concealing anything from me," he murmured. No matter how long he'd known this, known the absences and risks, it hurt no less to know that the odds of being near his bonded when Mirage finally extinguished was next to none. "It means he's asking me to make his final report for him, for however much of his mission he completed."

"And then ... you would follow him, and I would be completely alone," she murmured.

Hound watched her for a lingering moment. "I don't know if I'd follow him right away," he murmured, uneasy with the statement. "You never recover from a bonded's death, but you can choose to go on living in your frame if you have enough reason to do so."

She felt utterly wretched, and selfish. Mirage was in danger, leaving Hound in danger as well. And she was worried about whether she would be left alone. Except ... she was not at all sure she could recover from the loss of either one of them. How had it happened that she had become so fully connected with them in such a short time, that she would be too empty to go on if she lost them both? She didn't want to ask the questions pouring into her head ... about whether claimed sockets had been known to take their own lives after the loss of their lover. She forced herself to come back from the dark place her psyche had entered.

"That is why he has to survive. After all, he has been doing so for a very long time."

"Yes, he has, and under far, far worse conditions," he tried to be reassuring. "Nothing in range comes close to sneaking into Darkmount."

Alicia relaxed, settling in to the warmth that was her giant lover. "So, tell me about sneaking into Darkmount, and then we can go and collect some samples and explore the wetlands together. And after that, we can clean each other up."

"I don't know much, other than he's one of only three mechs to ever come back from such a mission, at least that he knows about. It was, might still be, Decepticon Headquarters on Cybertron. It's ... I can't even begin to describe the security they put into that place."

"I'm not surprised to find out that he is the best at what he does, love. It makes me feel better, even knowing that it likely means he is sent to the worst of all places."

"He is the best," Hound smiled fondly, silently encouraging her to get up for the day. "The hardest part isn't worrying about him surviving. It's the lonely time not knowing when he'll be back. It could be just a couple orn, he could be gone for metacycles. It's never stretched to vorns, like with Saboteurs and Infiltrators, but there's always been the potential."

"Well, we might as well distract ourselves. My sitting here fretting isn't doing him any good."

Alicia stretched and slid down to the ground, entering her tent to quickly brush out her hair and put on her work clothes and waders.

She came back out and held out a mug of water she poured for her tea toward Hound.

"Heat this up for me, love?"

"Of course," he dipped a cable into the water and sent out a quick series of controlled EM bursts until it was just the right temperature. "What are we looking into today?"

She plopped a bag of green tea in the water and inhaled its scent as it brewed.

"Water sampling is done. Now the fun begins. We need to catalog which types of birds are nesting in this quadrant, capture and tag several samples of each species, taking blood samples for toxin analysis. Though ... I'm wondering if you'd be able to do that last part in a less invasive way. We don't have to do this my slow way, Hound, if there is a more efficient way to do it."

She had noticed that her attitudes toward technology had changed dramatically in their return to the wetlands, though she still felt insistent that she needed to stay _in_ the field to get an intuitive sense of what was going on there.

"I do have far less invasive ways of doing the cataloging and samples, but they may not be accepted by those you report to," he told her cautiously. "Wide-range and targeted scans can do the job quickly and without disturbing most of the animals."

She smiled broadly at him. "I don't see why it wouldn't be, considering I'm the one who gets to write the final report and make the recommendations for the whole team, and those go straight to Prime. I kind of figured that the only reason he wasn't having mechs do this survey was that you all have far more important things to do, so waiting for our slow methods was acceptable and helped increase the kinds of cooperative efforts humans were involved in.

"Besides, I'm all for anything that leaves us more free time to simply play in the water and explore."

Hound paused, pinging Prime with a request to know if his sensor suite was acceptable to use in the ecological report data or if they needed to stick to human methods.

"I'm checking with Prime to ensure that he does not have any reservations with using non-human methods," he smiled and stroked her back while they waited for the tea to seep. "It is possible he has legal actions planned or something that must stand up to your peer review process."

"Ah, I hadn't considered that. I don't think very well before my first cup of tea in the morning. Since the peers who would be peer reviewing are not supposed to know you exist, my guess is that we have to do things the slow way, which isn't such a bad thing. I actually enjoy the challenge of capturing and tagging, and then I get to examine them up close and look for signs of environmental stress."

"Agreed, though that is not to say we can not use my sensors to find and capture the specimens," he grinned. "Or make some of the counting activities more accurate. After all, you don't have to say exactly _how_ you know there are twenty-three _Acridotheres tristis_ in this sector, with six nests."

"Ah shit," she moaned at Hound's report on the invasive Indian Mynah. "Not that it should surprise me, but that makes things just that much harder for the other critters here. But yes, love, I don't have to tell them _how_ I know that."

"There is one aspect of the invasive species issue I do not understand," he looked at her as she drank her morning tea and absently prepped breakfast. "Why do you not simply eliminate them?"

Alicia nearly snorted her tea in surprise at the question, but then gave it serious thought. "Well love, it's not like it hasn't been tried. But everything we might introduce into an ecosystem to eliminate them would end up having an unintended negative consequence on the rest of the ecosystem. Look at the history of Australia or Hawaii to see how humans have tried to correct one mistake by making another. And, if you miss even a few, they are right back, plus the animal rights activists have a fit over any attempt to cull a species, no matter how destructive. Plants are even more difficult. I suppose we could do some sort of selective bacterial or viral attack, but that, honestly, scares the hell out of me because of the possibility of a mutation killing off a whole bunch of other species."

"I ... see," he said hesitantly. "There are options now that are not so risky. At least here in Autobot territory."

Alicia looked at Hound seriously, taking another sip of her tea. "It is tempting ... very tempting. The ethical considerations alone are staggering to me. I mean, even with invasive species like the Indian Mynah, part of me admires them for their adaptability and asks what right we have to determine their future. They simply found a niche in the ecosystem and filled it, taking advantage of humanity's spread throughout the globe. If I were to be honest, by how we define invasive species, human beings are the most dangerous invasive species on the planet, but from our point of view, we are just successful, and at least we are beginning to come to terms with our need to live within the web of life rather than above it. I mean, what if Autobots had come to Earth and viewed humanity as an invasive species decimating the rest of our ecosystem rather than a sentient partner? Or saw us destroying other the sentient species who could have been your sockets, without even acknowledging that they are people like us. It would have been a legitimate way to see us - I even see us in that way on my darker days when I'm not sure how this planet is going to survive us. You would have had very good reason to eliminate us for the sake of the rest of the planet. To me, doing that to the Mynah sets a dangerous precedent."

Hound paused, looking up the definitions she was working with a little better.

"While your fears are founded in reasonable logic, the key feature of an invasive species as we define it does not hold true with humans. While humans have invaded many places, they have done so under their own power, just as we have. A true invasive species is one that was brought to a new place by another species and is now uncontrolled. It is how we have differentiated between introduced creatures and native ones."

"Hmmm ... humans have not been completely clear on how we define invasive. But the fact is that _humans_ are responsible for the spread of every invasive species on the planet, virtually destroying entire ecosystems. It makes me wonder which is the worse kind of invasive, Hound. Don't think that I don't love me own kind, but from the point of view of an ecologist, there is no denying that we are responsible for more extinction on this planet than any natural force. But ... all that aside, how would you do it? There is no arguing that eliminating the Mynah and several others, as well as the non native plants would be a huge benefit for this island."

"Given what my species has done, even after the sockets were introduced, I can't afford to think that way," he pointed out quietly, not able to look at her. "But how to clean a small ecosystem is fairly simple. First you identify and genetically map all species, native and invasive. When that is done, you create a non-propagating virus that renders the target species sterile. Then a force field is set up to keep all biological material from moving in or out of the area and the virus is released. Maintain the field for three times the lifespan of the virus, generally three to six orn and scan for any surviving viruses. After confirming they are all dead, drop the field and allow the invasive species to die out in their natural lifespans. Maintain careful studies to ensure that no unintended species were affected, correct if found. It's worked on many worlds."

Alicia realized that she had retreated into her own analytical and hypothetical debate games, the place she went when she had emotions to deal with that she'd rather not. Hound, clearly, had emotions front and center even as he calmly described a process that was very promising to her.

She moved close to him and put her hand on his face. "I'm sorry, love," she said simply, knowing that what she had been so calmly speaking about was wounding on many levels. "Your species is surviving, just like mine. I did not mean to be so cold. I escape into debate and analysis when I'm too upset to deal with the present."

He leaned into the touch, closing his optics briefly. "I was the one who brought up removing the invasive species," he murmured. "Maybe someday I'll be able to talk about what I've seen. It won't be soon."

Standing on her tip toes on his lap, she gently kissed his face plates. "There is _nothing_ you could say to me or show me that would change how I feel about you, Hound. I'll listen whenever you feel you can talk. And I think your plan sounds incredibly promising. I wouldn't feel afraid of unintended results with you involved. I don't trust humanity's science ... we are too likely to not think through all the possible consequences of our actions. But I trust you, with everything in me. Now how do we distract ourselves? You want to go catch some birds with me?"

"That sounds good to me," he nodded and stood after she got off his lap. "I'm not afraid of what you will think," he tried to clarify. "They are very dark memories for me. Places I don't like to go."

She looked at him for a moment, and was struck by how tired his kind optics looked. "Then let's go make some good memories together, love. This is going to be fun." She began gathering her equipment including the tranquilizer gun and tags. "I'm not a bad shot, though by your standards I'm sure it will be pretty pathetic. Maybe you can give me some pointers."

"Anytime," he grinned, more than willing to be distracted from the dark places his thoughts were going.

* * *

Five days into Mirage's mission, none of Alicia's tools for self-distraction seemed to work any longer. Hound was obviously preoccupied, and more and more of their time had been spent silently doing the tasks required for the survey, both of them lost in their own thoughts. Evenings had been spent in desperately passionate sharing, which while physically and emotionally satisfying, had felt incomplete without Mirage.

Alicia looked up and saw Hound standing unnaturally still from where he had been watching her tranq, examine and tag yet another specimen.

"Hound?"

Even as his name crossed the silence between them, she realize something was _very_ wrong.

Before her, his optics suddenly went wide, a look of absolute horror crossing his features as he grabbed at his armor right above his spark, scraping the grill and paint before he dropped to his knees with a scream of raw, unfiltered agony.

"Hound!" she screamed, not even able to hear herself over his agonized cries that were echoing across the wetlands. "No ... oh God no. Mirage."

A moment of frozen panic, and then her rational side kicked in. She resisted the urge to run to him, remembering his quietly spoken warning that in such a situation, if she were not yet claimed, he might not recognize her and see her as a threat to his bonded.

"Oh God, please no. Please don't take them away," she murmured, running to her supplies to get the Autobot version of the 2-way radio she had been outfitted with.

"Ecoteam 1 leader to base, emergency. Repeat, emergency. Patch me in to command and CMO immediately." She hoped her voice could be heard over Hound's agonized bellows.

"Ecoteam 1 leader, this is Prowl." His calm, commanding voice reached her. "Ratchet and Jazz are on their way and are receiving your transmission. Shimmerfire should be overhead. What is the situation?"

"Hound is down and screaming in agony, sir. He's grabbing at his chestplates. It ... it's Mirage. They plan to claim me but haven't yet ... I don't dare go near him." Tears were running down her face. "Please hurry."

"Staying clear is best," Prowl assured her even as she heard the ambulance sirens approaching. "Has he said anything?"

"Nothing, he's just been screaming and grabbing at his chestplates." She stood as close as she dared, watching Hound in agony, feeling like her entire life had just ended in less than a minute.

"This is actually good news," Prowl was telling her. "When a bond snaps, the pain is over within a few seconds. He would have shut down by now if Mirage had extinguished. The fact that he's still conscious indicates that Mirage is alive, but in enough pain that he cannot shield Hound from it."

Mirage was still alive ... and in terrible pain, but alive. She felt the tiniest trace of hope, though it was slim. How likely was it that Mirage could get away from whatever would cause him this much pain?

"That's ... that's a relief. I thought he was gone. All right, I see Ratchet coming now. What should I do other than stay out of the way?"

"Remain close," he advised. "Hound will need a familiar presence when he is coherent again. It is likely to be an extremely unpleasant time while Mirage is found, rescued and repaired."

Even as she listened to the Autobot TIC, she watched Ratchet and Jazz pull up on the road nearest and transform, not even slowing down as they hit the marsh on pedes, rushing for their fallen comrade.

Alicia hadn't even noticed the human woman exit before the CMO transformed before an arm was around her shoulders. "It's ok," Ratchet's socket whispered to her. "Ratch will take care of him." Alicia clung to the woman, watching helplessly as the chartreuse medic knelt down by her fallen lover and immediately hooked a cable into the port underneath his arm, causing Hound to cease all movement.

The medic was still for a moment, and then looked up at Jazz. **"The pain is completely Mirage's. Hound is in agony. There is nothing I can do other than to sedate him,"** he stated calmly.

**"Not till I get what I need,"** Jazz was already jacking into Hound's systems. The silver mech flinched, his features grim as Hound's screams hit an entirely new level. Blue optics flared as Hound was drowned in sensations he couldn't begin to name, violations his bonded was suffering and violations from his trusted superior.

**"He needs to be sedated, NOW Jazz. He is in agony and his own spark is at risk of collapse from the strain. What could you possibly get that would make this worth two lives instead of just one?"**

Alicia tried to race forward at Hound's renewed screams, but Mikaela held her firm, speaking in her ear so she could hear over the screams. "Let them do what they need to do. They will call you when you're needed. And you will be needed. Try to calm down so you can be there for him."

**"The intel Mirage is giving his life for,"** he answered, his own voice pained as he experienced everything Hound was and more.

Ratchet vented hard, but relented. He hated it, but he knew that it was what the bonded pair would want if they could speak for themselves.

Hound broke down in sobs as the pain relented, his systems desperately trying to control the flow of power, energy and heat around his systems.

**"Done,"** Jazz disconnected.

Before Ratchet could even move Hound screamed again, his frame involuntarily arching as his chest armor latches unlocked.

**"Gang rape,"** Jazz said quietly.

Ratchet shuttered his optics before initiating the sedation through the medical interface, skillfully shutting down certain pain and emotional functions while leaving Hound aware enough to both support Mirage through the bond and communicate anything that could possibly lead to a rescue.

~Hound, you are not alone. I am blocking your pain, but I assume you wish to remain aware of your bonded.~

~Yes,~ the scout responded, completely exhausted already but determined to help. ~Jazz got what he needed?~

~He did, and I know it cost you much. Do you wish to see your socket?~

~Yes ... did I hurt her?~ Hound asked, as afraid as his limited emotional subroutines would allow.

~She is fine. She reacted exactly as she should have and contacted us immediately, while staying far enough from you to avoid triggering your defense protocols.~

Alicia was still held in Mikaela's arms, who was stroking her as she might a child. The dark haired latina was slowly forcing herself to become calm, ready for whatever Hound ... whatever both of them needed.

A low whimper escaped Hound's vocalizer as he felt Mirage's barriers shatter again as his body and spark were taken by yet another mech.

Ratchet calmly held the large mech as endured the latest violation with his bonded. When it ended, he turned toward Alicia and Mikaela.

"It is safe for you to come now. He wants you."

Mikaela gave the woman one last squeeze before Alicia walked swiftly over to Hound and scaled his chassis, bringing her tear streaked face in view of his optics while she stroked his faceplates.

"What can I do, love? How do I help?"

"Just be here," he murmured. "You did good, calling in. If it's like last time, Ratchet will keep me sedated and in medbay. Just stay, be an anchor for me."

"Anything, my love." She curled herself high on his chest and gently stroked and kissed his neck, audios and face. His words gently hit her ... like last time. This had happened before, and Mirage had survived.

"There is hope then? Of an escape or rescue?" She wasn't sure if she was asking Hound or the others.

"As long as he's functioning, there's always chance of escape," Jazz told her using the Spanish she spoke in, but his expression was grim and his voice held none of his usual ease or good humor she knew from shared memories or her brief encounter with him during movie night. "There is a smaller chance they'll barter for him, if we have something they want more than his deactivation."

Alicia's thought of the beautiful noble mech, and felt resolute in her heart that somehow, if anyone could find a way to beat these horrible odds, he could.

"Where there is life, there is always hope. If anyone can, Mirage can," she whispered, resting her face on Hound's much larger one.


	19. SSU 4: Socket HuntHP 7: Burst Bubble

**Fandom:** Transformers Bayverse  
**Author:** gatekat and prophetbot on LJ  
**Pairing:** Sunstreaker/Sideswipe/Shimmerfire (organic?)  
**Rating:** PG-13 for now, NC-17 hoped for  
**Codes:** Slash, Het, Xeno (Transformer/Human), Twincest  
**Summary:** With Sideswipe resting in the Twin's quarters, Sunstreaker heads out to find a socket for his brother, and Shimmerfire happily tags along.  
**Notes**: Written in the Dathanna de Gray fanverse **"text"** translated Cybertronian.

* * *

****

Sunny Side Up 4: Socket Hunt

****

Hunting Pleasure 9: Burst Bubble

* * *

Sunstreaker cast a last look at his brother's now intact but still battered form before the door to their quarters closed, leaving him standing next a rather eager, hyperactive Seeker.

**"The rec room, the common room, or somewhere else?"** Shimmerfire asked as they walked towards the barracks entrance.

**"I say the rec room to begin with. Usually the more energetic ones are there playing games. I like the ones with spunk, sometimes."** Sunstreaker's optics brightened slightly, keeping his half of the bond between himself and his brother somewhat private; he wanted their little hunt to be a surprise. In a way it was exciting being sneaky, especially when he knew Sideswipe was going to be floored if they showed up with a socket.

**"Energetic is good, especially given it has to give strength to you both at once."** She nodded, following him across the base, her wings twitching and flicking in excitement.

**"Oh? Miss Shimmer doesn't want a taste for herself?"** he questioned, mouth plates forming a knowledgeable smirk. Sunstreaker touched a hand to her spinal struts to help calm her.

**"Sides gets first dibs,"** she crooned, her wing coming forward in a possessive, protective move to shield the golden frontliner from a rear attack that didn't exist. **"It'll be vorns before I actually _need_ my first boost. I won't take from him."**

**"Of course,"** the golden mech said seriously, lifting his chin in an almost dignified manner. Well, he _did_ have to work on his social appearance if he wanted to successfully bring a socket back for the main purpose of pleasing his brother. **"Need and want are two different things,"** he pointed out thoughtfully.

**"If it has energy left after sating you and Sideswipe, I'd enjoy a taste,"** she trilled eagerly. **"We don't have to, you know, _touch_ them, right?"**

Sunstreaker actually graced the public with a rare - therefore somewhat frightening - curt, metallic laugh. **"A cable will have to touch them. But trust me, as much as I'm not warming up to humans, the experience can be quite _pleasurable_."**

He had no doubt her expression was dubious, but she didn't press the question. He led her through the base, finally stopping at a large structured building that was usually bustling with activity. Sunstreaker stepped easily inside the large doors built for mechs.

Miles looked up from where he was rearranging the media area as he heard the large frontliner and even larger Seeker enter the rec room. With a flick of thought he accessed the database through the room's wireless to be sure he remembered their names correctly, and was surprised to find that both of them had warnings beside their entries to avoid provocation, and that Sunstreaker had recently done brig time for trying to attack a socket who had mildly insulted him. Given that, he was mildly concerned to find them heading straight in his direction.

"Hey, dudes - Sunstreaker and Shimmerfire, right? Did Jazz send you to help me move the furniture? I can do the human stuff myself, but the mech sized stuff? I'd likely break myself trying."

The golden mech glanced down at the blond human from where he stood, keeping a hand still against Shimmerfire's back as he narrowed his optics and searched his processor for identification. Miles Lancaster, an organic working with communications and doubling as both Coordinator of Interspecies Recreation and Socket-Related Education. For some reason, even as a pure coincidence that Miles named the mech Sunstreaker was thinking about, the human's speech patterns reminded him of Jazz.

"Correct. We weren't here for that purpose, but I believe an... exchange could be in order." For some reason that sounded better than approaching any random human in the recreation room and awkwardly asking if they were keen on sharing energy with three mechs.

**"Were you looking for this one?"** Shimmerfire asked Sunstreaker curiously.

**"Not exactly; with his job title and record, I foresee he may be willing. I'm not exactly the most approachable mech here,"** he pointed out, optics focused on Miles the entire time. Slowly, he removed his hand from Shimmerfire's back and knelt to get a better look at the small human.

Miles gave them a confused look, then smiled "Well... that's cool. I'll let Jazz know I don't need help after all. What sort of exchange do you have in mind?"

"My brother recently returned from battle with injuries. I'm in search of a socket to satisfy our spark, and perhaps excite Shimmerfire's as well." He had been hoping his more crouched position made him seem slightly less menacing.

Shimmerfire cocked her head and watched the exchange with an bemused fascination. This Miles wasn't attractive to her, but then few humans were, so it was all but a moot point. What mattered was convincing it that it wanted to come back with them and feed Sideswipe's spark.

Miles blushed and laughed, running his fingers through his hair a little nervously. "So you are offering to help me move furniture, in exchange for being your Energizer bunny for the day? That is a pretty good deal for me, to be honest. I'd have said yes regardless. I'm a sharing kind of dude."

He regarded them both for a moment.

"But I have one condition. The database says that I need to make sure I don't provoke either one of you. So you need to tell me how to avoid provoking, okay?"

Sunstreaker grunted, lifting himself to full height and staring down at the organic with a mixture of amusement and acknowledgment. "Smart human. Very well. I'm sure Shimmerfire's conditions may be different from mine, but I will warn you right away that forms of human 'playfulness' may be misinterpreted and result in... undesired consequences."

He returned his arm to gently coax Shimmerfire out of silence. ::You do not have to return with us if you find the interaction displeasing.::

::I have to learn sometime. This is as good as any,:: she told him.

"Also, if you are warned to cease something, do so immediately. I unfortunately do not have the patience to repeat myself."

"I'm not all that keen on touching organics." She made an effort to be polite about it. "The warnings, I hope, are more generic Seeker than anything I've actually done, for all they are probably accurate. Every Cybertronian knows that even a mellow Seeker is a high-strung, ill-tempered, egotistical flying weapons system with a libido governing things most of the time. From what I've been told, I'm not mellow. I'm not fond of the Aerials here either," she grumbled, then looked at him very seriously, her wings tense with the leading edge perfectly perpendicular to the floor. "I will do my best to behave and not frighten or damage you."

Miles wondered for a moment if he had a death wish, sharing with these two. But on the other hand, he had told Jazz he would share when asked, and he had meant it. The fear factor might end up being exciting, and there was nothing in their record indicating either had actually harmed a human...

"So playfulness, what do you mean by that specifically? What tends to set you off? I'm a pretty playful sort of dude by nature. I wouldn't have this job otherwise. Trying to do anything, even energy sharing, without my sense of humor would be pretty much impossible for me. I can handle respecting boundaries. I'm big on that, even though I don't have a lot of my own... I'm pretty mellow that way."

"Simply do not overstep those boundaries. I do not enjoy being told I am 'lacking' at something, sarcasm or otherwise, especially by those I do not respect. Generally, I do not like being touched either; however..." Sunstreaker gazed down at how the organic seemed to be more concerned than afraid of their words, finding it somewhat impressive that it wasn't the other way around. "...if I initiate touch, then I can be more approving of it being returned."

It wasn't that Sunstreaker _hated_ humans. On the contrary, he found that their ability to fill the energy in his spark made them slightly more desirable. He just wasn't particularly fond of things so small and breakable who had egos that surpassed their mortality. "Smart mouthing to me also wouldn't be a particularly good idea," he pointed out, drifting a hand over Shimmerfire's aft before kneeling again, his optics shifting elsewhere. "I do not... wish to give you reasons to reconsider, Miles Lancaster," he said darkly, voice low. "My intentions are to please my brother."

The entire exchange, and the tiny mortal's reactions to what it was told, was enough to draw Shimmerfire's natural curiosity to the fore.

"Are you required to share with us?" she suddenly asked.

Miles gave her a look of surprise. "No, not at all. It is completely by choice. The sockets aren't installed without full consent, and sharing doesn't happen without consent, either. Those of us who choose to do so _enjoy_ it, thoroughly. That's what I meant by it being a rather good deal for me - sharing with three could be spectacular, to be honest."

Miles gave Sunstreaker a serious look. He wanted to do this, but he also felt he needed to for his job, so that he could feel comfortable sending others to them in the future. A good socket pimp should know his clientele, right?

"I'm up for it, dudes. I won't pretend I don't have reservations, but it sounds like your brother really needs this, and I'm very curious about sharing with people I haven't shared with before and want more experience. But... if it comes to a point where I feel afraid or threatened, I _will_ leave, and I want your word that you'll let me. Deal?"

"On the Spires of Vos," Shimmerfire said, her tone absolutely serious.

Just out of curiosity, Miles looked up the reference. While it came with a link that was over three gigs of text long, the Cliff Notes version said it was the second most serious way a Seeker could give their word. The first being 'On the Winglord's Honor.' The Winglord was currently Starscream, which pretty much covered why an Autobot wouldn't use it.

He was a bit stunned by the seriousness of her oath. He suddenly felt much, much better about the whole prospect, though the arousal he was beginning to feel in anticipation of more 'sharing' was enough to have him feeling good anyhow.

Sunstreaker's optics narrowed and focused, flicking about Miles while he made few scans to convince himself that the organic wasn't hesitant in his answer. The last thing he wanted was to bring Miles back to his quarters only to have him change his mind. When he was assured, he slowly nodded. "You have my word." He wasn't certain whether Miles regarded his word as protection, but it was a difficult thing to achieve.

"So what needs to be moved?" Shimmerfire asked casually.

"We are expanding the game area, so we need to move all of these back about twenty feet in order to add more consoles and some tables suitable for both big dudes and little dudes to socialize together." He pointed toward several mech sized chairs.

Sunstreaker stood then, optics scanning as Miles spoke. "A simple task," he said pridefully, stepping over and grabbing chairs two at a time, attempting to pointedly ignore the curious stares from mechs at both him and Shimmerfire, two characters somewhat unlikely for volunteer work. "For a mech."

Shimmerfire snickered and went to work, downloading the intended plan with a thought to the main computer and putting her large frame and its greater-than-average strength to good use. For a high-strung, ill-tempered, egotistical flying weapons system, she was quite willing to do grunt work when she found the reason good enough.

"Good?" She glanced at Miles when they'd arranged the furniture to her satisfaction.

Miles gave them both a wide grin. "Perfect. Now let's go see about your brother, Sunstreaker. Will one of you give me a ride so it doesn't take me an hour to walk there? This base is huge for short legs."

For a moment, Sunstreaker glanced towards Shimmerfire, his processor bringing up the memory file where she had a complete distaste for cockpits for obvious reasons as well as _not_ wanting to have humans sit inside her. He grunted, deciding to be gracious since it was his invitation. "Very well, Miles Lancaster," he offered, leading them outside of the building so he could transform without hindrance.

Miles carefully held himself back from running his hands all over the hot Lamborghini Murcielago. This was not Jazz, he reminded himself, and he needed to watch his step. But the sight of the lambo alone was enough to get the young man's blood racing.

Shimmerfire followed, transforming herself to maintain a near hover as the human got in Sunstreaker's so-lovely-sleek alt. She couldn't really fly slow enough for his driving, but he drove faster than she could walk, so she did her best to not leave him too far behind as they headed for the barracks and the twins' quarters.

The ride was silent, and fast, fast enough to get Miles worked up in the right ways. Soon they were at the twins' quarters and the passenger door opened.

"Thanks for the lift, dude," Miles was breathless as he got out and stepped back, cautious of Shimmerfire's presence.

Once Miles took the hint and exited his alternative form, Sunstreaker easily transformed, clenching eager fists as he hesitated at the door and smirked. ~Sides, I've got a surprise for you,~ he crooned, pestering his brother's slumbering mind with affectionate brushes.

"Welcome," he managed to gruffly respond to Miles, optics brightening at Shimmerfire as she followed him. ::Show off,:: he quipped at her while he moved to open the door for the organic and step in after him with the femme close behind.

::You drive too fast for me to walk with you,:: she pointed out calmly, though she was smirking back. ::Should we be waking him?:: she asked uncertainly.

::Perhaps not,:: Sunstreaker admitted, unable to help the slight soft light his optics gave at the sight of his brother. ::But it will make him feel much better. If he wants to sleep after seeing what we brought, I'd be surprised.::

Sunstreaker moved further into the room, scooping up Miles in one hand and carried him closer to Sideswipe, hopefully, giving off an _I will not hurt you_ vibe as he did so.

The silver mech shifted on the berth, still booting himself from deep recharge.

Miles was nervous. Nervous as hell. Not in a bad way, in an aroused way. Sunstreaker's alt form was the hottest thing he'd ever seen, and it had taken every ounce of self-preservation he had not to run his hands all over it the way he had with Jazz... and oh did that make him miss Jazz. But he was desperately excited as well.

He ran his hand through his hair out of nervous habit, painfully aware of just how hard he had gotten on the ride over.

"Hey, dude," he gave his characteristic greeting to the silver mech just stirring on the berth. "I heard you need a charge."

~You brought... present?~ He reached out to Sunstreaker as he took in the odd gathering looking at him with only half his processors fully on-line. "Miles." He rebooted his optics once to make sure he really was seeing his brother carrying the human to their berth.

~You went... you actually brought one back?~ Sideswipe looked at his brother in shocked awe overflowing with adoration.

~Yes, for you,~ Sunstreaker explained, and after setting Miles safely beside Sideswipe on the berth, reached out to stroke his brother's cheek. He responded to the adoration with his own devotion, as if that alone would justify the out of character act. ~Because I love you. He may not be permanent, but he's willing, and... aroused, if you cannot yet tell. I gave him a ride.~

Miles grinned when he was deposited before the silver mech like a dead bird being brought by a cat to its master.

"Yeah man. Ready and willing to share, if you are up for it."

Sideswipe revved his engine and pulled his brother into a fierce kiss of thanks before turning his attention to Miles. "I'm up for it, now that my systems have all booted and agree," he chuckled and reached out to stroke Miles' side. "Are you one who likes to fuck, or cable input only?"

Miles recognized Sideswipe. He had seen the two of them before... the time the silver mech had 'delivered' a tray of energon goodies for the first movie night while his twin stood in the background... the ones that had left Bluestreak in medbay after Miles gave him one on an empty tank. He quickly hooked into the network and saw, as he suspected, that Sideswipe's Surgeon General Warning label was for pranks and trouble he tended to get in protecting his twin.

Miles grinned and leaned into the touch. "I've done both. I prefer to fuck, but whatever you want, dude."

Sunstreaker rumbled after the appreciated contact with his brother, then shifted back as he preferred, allowing Sideswipe to do what he pleased. "Mmm, he's quite honest, isn't he?" he mused. "Not that you couldn't smell it on him."

"All the better," Sideswipe rumbled, taking note of how Shimmerfire was watching with a sort of horrified, aroused fascination as she leaned against the wall, her wings twitching sharply. He focused his attention on Miles and snaked a cable out from his wrist and brushed it against Miles' socket. "Just me, or both of us?" he asked both human and brother.

Miles lifted an eyebrow at the options. "I've shared with more than one at the same time. I'm always up for something new. He can make the call on that one," he said, motioning with his head toward Sunstreaker.

"I wouldn't mind taking some energy for myself, and participating," he said gruffly, engine revving pleasantly at the brightness in his brother's optics as he paid attention to the organic. "But you first, Sides." Sunstreaker was completely set on making sure that his brother's health and happiness strictly came first, and the golden mech managed to shoot a glance at Shimmerfire from over his shoulder.

She was unquestionably not interested in joining in, at least not right now, but she was watching with keen interest to see what they were up to.

"Then off with the clothing," Sideswipe grinned, extending several more cables to caress while he assisted with the effort of stripping Miles to bare skin.

Miles smirked at the grinning, enthusiastic mech, relieved at the moment that it would just be Sideswipe the first time around. It was obvious the silver mech was far more comfortable with organics than either of the other two.

He made quick work of his clothes with Sideswipe's help, and then boldly took the cable and plugged himself in as he arched into the other caressing cables.

Sunstreaker casually dusted the clothing from Miles out of the way, shifting on the berth so that he wasn't a hindrance but near enough so that if he wanted to touch as well, he was within close enough proximity. A slight smirk indicated he was pleased as the blond organic made quick work at plugging in.

Licking his lips slightly, Sideswipe sent a pulse of energy across the cable to Miles, telling the human's nervous system that it was being caressed everywhere. He opened his interface panel and stroked a finger down Miles' chest, teasing the tip of his hard cock with a claw.

Miles shivered as the first burst of pleasure hit him, and the small measure of control he had left after the arousing ride seemed to abandon him all together. Without any thought or intention on his part, his hips thrust to meet a teasing touch.

~I'm used to being a _very_ active participant in this. Tell me how much I can touch you.~

~All you want,~ Sideswipe said eagerly. ~Just don't touch Sunshine there unless he touches you first.~

"And don't call me Sunshine," the golden warrior rumbled, watching the exchange heatedly, well aware of his own body's natural excitement at the sight of his brother's open interface panel, as well as the exotic scent coming off the human. Dimming his optics, he eventually reached out and stroked a finger down Miles' soft back, careful not to nudge the cable connection.

Miles shivered at Sunstreaker's surprisingly gentle stroke, and then laughed inwardly at Sideswipe's response ~All I want? You asked for it, dude.~

He moved to kneel between Sideswipe's legs, running his tongue and fingers up his pressurized spike's length before sucking and licking on the tip that was sized far too large for him to take into his mouth.

~Yes, I did,~ Sideswipe moaned, enjoying the efforts of the creature whose arm was smaller than his spike.

Sunstreaker could hear the faint echo of Miles' voice through his bond with his brother, bringing him to slightly shift closer so he had a better view of the human's assault on Sideswipe's spike.

~Slag, that's hot.~

~Feel it, bro,~ Sideswipe flung their bond open, passing along every sensation and thought going between them. ~Want you to spike me when he rides mine.~

Miles had to briefly remind himself that Cybertronian brothers did not have incest taboos, and soon forgot about the issue entirely as the sensations began flowing back into him. He doubled his efforts to let Sideswipe know just how much he liked the feedback.

~Hell, yeah!~ he tried to call out to them both.

The golden frontliner wasn't the most eager participant in letting Miles that close to his mind, though thankfully he was able to place some limitations on how open he could be. ~Thought you'd never ask,~ Sunstreaker mused, caressing his brother's consciousness with his own and moaning audibly when the bond flared with further sensations.

~For an organic, he sure can suck.~

~Oh, yeah,~ Sideswipe moaned eagerly, sending another wave of pleasure to Miles as he stroked the human's back, teased his thighs, curled a cable around his cock and pumped it.

There was a tiny part of Miles' mind, a part that he really hoped was well hidden from Sideswipe, that was feeling like a whore. This was the first time he had 'shared' with a mech that he didn't already have some sort of existing relationship or friendship with. He and Rewind had at least cuddled for a night and talked in the morning first. Prowl and Jazz... well... Miles was _serious_ about wanting to get to know those two better, as serious as he had been about anything in his life.

This felt awesome, but also wrong... like picking up an unknown guy at a bar and doing him without ever learning his name, something Miles had done once and hugely regretted. He had realized then that he wanted to sleep with friends, not strangers, and that no matter how hedonistic he might be, he _cared_, really _cared_, for those he fucked. 95% of the blond was enthusiastic and thrilled, but that other 5% kept waving at him for attention and distracting him from the workout he was trying give Sideswipe's large spike.

Then the silver mech wrapped a cable around his aching cock and Miles told that 5% to go jump in a lake. He hissed in pleasure and threw back his head before attacking the tip of Sideswipe's spike with renewed vigor, sucking hard on it and probing what he thought were sensor nodes with his tongue while not quite encircling its girth with both hands and stroking it.

If Sideswipe picked up on any of Miles' reservations, he didn't show it. He groaned in pleasure at the human's efforts and redoubled his own. ~J-just let me know when you want to ride it.~

~Any time. My ass is yours... just hope you can get a bit smaller, as much as any cock-sucking dude dreams of monster rods.~

Sunstreaker inched his body closer to his brother, enjoying the look of pleasure on his face. It was so erotic, so tempting, that he couldn't help turning Sideswipe's helm towards him so that he could capture his lips in a rough kiss that was returned eagerly.

Miles' reservations flailed and died as he held them under the proverbial lake, his eyes glued the two giant kissing frontliners while his mind briefly flashed him the image of Prowl and Jazz doing the same with him in a similar position.

Sideswipe moaned deeply into the kiss, his entire frame feeling a spike in the charge just from that contact. ~Love you, want you,~ he shivered, speaking to his brother even as he shrunk his spike to suit the human's size in response to Miles' words. ~Want you,~ he rumbled.

Very aware of their audience, Sunstreaker licked his glossa against his brother's lips, his body, then moved away. ~Lay down, Sides. Let him ride you and I'll give you exactly what you want.~

The silver warrior shivered in anticipation and did as he was told, laying down and spreading his legs as he shifted his hips to make it easy for his brother to thrust into his valve.

Miles felt a wave of nervousness hit. Was Sideswipe just expecting him to hop on for a ride without stretching him out a bit? Some guys could do that, even seemed to relish the pain, but he wasn't one of them.

~Have you done this with a human before, dude? I... I need some lube or it's gonna hurt like hell, even at this size.~ He unconsciously flashed the image of Jazz using the lube from his valve to prepare Miles' tight hole.

~No problem,~ Sideswipe groaned, pressing two cables into his valve to be coated thoroughly with the thick, slick lubricant. Then one nudged Miles' ass, circling the tight opening to his body before gently pushing inside.

Sunstreaker thrummed, letting out a heated breath through his vents as his interface panel opened to relieve a pressurizing spike as he shifted between his brother's legs. He gave the preparation of the human a look of almost keen interest in his optics. ~They don't have natural lubrication,~ he observed, clutching at Sideswipe's knee joints as he pushed inside his brother's valve with a groan.

Miles groaned as Sideswipe's cable probed and stretched him, letting out a hiss of pleasure as it brushed his sweet bundle of nerves.

He felt Sunstreaker looming just behind him and then let out a cry as the golden mech's thrust caused the cable inside of him to hit his sweet spot with surprising force. He looked over his shoulder, enraptured by the expression on Sunstreaker's face as he thrust inside his twin.

It made Miles feel at once extremely hot but also alone, and though he knew that he could stand to be stretched further, he didn't care any more. He needed to be fucked, to feel the heated spike move inside him.

~Want you inside me... want you so much... want to feel your spark feed,~ he managed to think.

Sideswipe shivered again as his brother hilted inside him again. He nodded as he used his cables to help position Miles and his spike, the tip pressed against the tight ring of muscle that was slick with his valve lubricant.

~Yes,~ Sideswipe and Sunstreaker both rumbled as Miles was slowly speared open by the thick, long silver spike.

Both mechs were distantly aware of a choking sound escaping Shimmerfire before she bolted from their quarters, but were too wrapped up in their pleasure and feeding to worry about her reaction yet. Had Sunstreaker not been so compromised at the moment, he would have sought to go after her, but right now what he needed was his brother's heat around him, and that sweet energy that half of their spark was gorging on. He immediately sought to move, pushing within the familiar tightness Sideswipe offered him. "Slag."

Grunting, his optics dimmed once Miles was settled on his brother's spkie, and he set the pace for their thrusts. ~Love you.~

Miles didn't notice the gigantic Seeker leave. He didn't notice anything except the thick, long, hot spike that was pushing inside him, almost too fast for him to relax his muscles, and burning in a delicious way. Sideswipe had sized himself larger than either Jazz or Rewind, and it was close to being too much to handle, hovering just on the edge of pain where pleasure was the most intense. Sideswipe's intense pleasure at pushing into such a tight space while being hilted by his brother spilled over into Miles, nearly making him come then and there.

~ohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuck~ he cried out, gasping, not sure if he was saying it out loud or in his mind. ~So fucking huge, oh Christ!~ He was being stretched like he never had been before, impaled on the frontliner while Sunstreaker's powerful thrusts into Sideswipe's valve kept pushing the silver spike further in him.

He felt, too, how his pleasure affected the twins. The swell of Sideswipe's spark spilling into his brother's. His physical pleasure heightening their own.

~Won't last long,~ one of them warned the others, but he had no clue who. It was true enough for himself.

If it weren't for Miles in between them, the golden mech would have opened his chassis to close in on that beautiful spark energy, but since he didn't exactly need to at the moment, he used that urge to strengthen his thrusts. He groaned as every thrust brought him deeper, causing Sideswipe's valve to clench harder on him. Sunstreaker trailed his glossa along his brother's leg plating and hissed while Miles' feelings were spilled over him through his connection with Sideswipe. ~You won't have to,~ he moaned, gripping the silver warrior's hips and dragging him down against him.

Miles began to move himself carefully on the large spike, and as he grew accustomed to the extreme fullness, began moving faster. Sunstreaker thrust into his brother especially hard, causing the spike to slam into Miles' bundle of nerves. He screamed out in pleasure/pain as Sideswipe's spike began hitting it again and again in rhythm with Sunstreaker. Miles was no longer sure if he was moving, or Sideswipe, or somehow Sunstreaker was moving them both because he was no longer aware of where he started and the other ended as someone cried out, "Oh, God, I'm not gonna last," and hot seed spurted out of him.

Both frontliners roared with him, their hot transfluid shooting into him and Sideswipe, and out all their cocks as they reveled in the mutual orgasm and the intense pleasure of a truly hungry spark being fed. Not even Rewind's spark had needed his energy this much and it was its own kind of ecstasy.

Sunstreaker slowed, riding off the last of his orgasm and grumbling in a deep satisfaction as he felt his fluids within Sideswipe's valve. He could see with his scanners and feel with his spark as Miles' organic sensations fueled the silver warrior. "Mm, that was good."

Miles collapsed onto the silver mech's abdomen, his abused ass still clenching the large spike convulsively. The ecstasy of the hungry spark being filled left him dizzy. It was an addictive pleasure, so different from anything else his body or mind had ever experienced. He absentmindedly ran his fingers along Sideswipe's armor in soothing caresses.

"It _is_ good. There is just nothing like it," he murmured.

"No kidding," Sideswipe stroked his back lightly. "Have enough in you to give Sunny a charge?"

Miles immediately felt his nerves kick in again at that question, his initial reservations suddenly at the forefront. He slid off Sideswipe's spike and turned so he could see the golden mech. He _wanted_ to share, God, he wanted to so much, but his own sense of self worth needed to confirm something before he did.

"Can I ask a blunt question, without intending any offense?"

"Sure," Sideswipe said easily.

An optic ridge rose in question even before the words were able to come from his vocal processor. "Ask your question and I will be to one to determine if there is offense," he spoke, a bit lowly but not with the intention to seem intimidating.

Since the mood had somewhat switched, he pulled out of Sideswipe, sitting rather than kneeling between his brother's legs.

"Bro, chill," Sideswipe reached out to caress his mind, using English for the human's sake.

Miles took a deep breath, having realized something in the depths of his subconscious that would no longer leave him alone.

"Everyone I've shared with up to today has been someone I could tell respected me, respected my kind, and genuinely liked me as a person. Even Prowl, in his own way, welcomed my touch and liked me. I certainly don't need love and roses from every mech I share with. But I need to not just be a tool. I'd be more than happy to share with you, but I need to know, first, whether I and my kind, and perhaps organics in general, are something you merely tolerate and use as you need to, or whether we have some value beyond that to you."

Miles held his breath, wondering if he was about to die. But he couldn't, he just could not share with someone who saw him only as a necessary but pleasurable evil or a tool.

He saw Sunstreaker's optics narrow, and had no doubt the pair behind him was as well.

~Lie, or truth?~ Sideswipe asked his brother, carefully shielding from the human still hooked to them. ~He could ruin this world for us, but I'm not sure either of us could keep that lie up for long.~

Sunstreaker couldn't exactly help it that his temper flared. Who was this fragile, fleshy organic to question why he received the energy that sustained his life? "_Excuse me_, fleshling?" he began, a low rumble emitting from his engine.

He could very well have brushed his brother off and flung the human off the berth and into the wall with only a slight jerk of his finger, but merely glared, finally turning his gaze to his brother even if the look didn't lessen despite the new perspective.

~I don't care. _You_ may answer him. I have no desire for his energy any longer.~

Miles sat completely still, his eyes glued to the golden mech. The barely contained rage was evident. He suddenly was aware, more aware than he'd ever been, of just how easy it would be for him to end up a bloody splat on the wall, and Sunstreaker's optics looked like they had just that intent, all for asking what was a fair and legitimate question. The golden mech had *no* respect for organics. That was obvious. Miles slowly unhooked the cable from his neck, but not before quickly saying ~I really did enjoy sharing with you, dude. It was awesome.~

"I believe you've answered my question," Miles spoke quietly. "You gave me your word that you would allow me to go if at any time I felt afraid. I'd like to go now."

"And he wonders why we don't have a socket to claim," Sunstreaker growled under his breath, almost _slamming_ his interface panel shut as he pushed away from the berth and strode after Shimmerfire's earlier retreat. Now that he was angered, he could share his dislike with her and possibly feel better about it.

Sideswipe scooped him up, gently, and shifted off the berth under his brother's glare. "Don't hold it against us, okay? He didn't promise any emotions, right?"

Miles didn't trust himself to speak as he watched Sunstreaker stalk away. It wasn't about emotions. It was about a basic level of respect. He could not in good conscience recommend that _any_ human share with Sunstreaker considering how dangerous he was and that he clearly had no respect for organics at all. What he did know was that his next stop was to see either Prowl or Jazz and tell them exactly what had just taken place.

"He didn't promise anything other than I would be allowed to leave if I felt afraid. I won't hold it against you, Sideswipe. Don't hold it against me either, okay?"

"I won't... just... try not to completely ruin our ability to survive here, okay? Like him or not, illegal or not, if he's desperate enough he'll _take_ what he needs to survive. Most of us will."

Miles quickly put on his clothes and then turned to stare at Sideswipe. "I won't ruin anything for you, dude. You and your brother can only do that to yourselves. If he really needs it, he can figure out a way to at least respect us and not scare the shit out of us. Ultimately, that is his own choice, and has nothing to do with me or you or anyone else."

"It has to do with me because he's my twin!" Sideswipe said in frustration before something hit him. "Do you evenknow what that means, for a Cybertronian?"

"Honestly, I really don't, dude. I can tell you love each other. I assume that you are somehow... bonded like Jazz and Prowl are."

Miles _wanted_ to leave. His instincts were screaming at him to leave. Sideswipe's troubles all came from defending his brother, and Miles _knew_ he was putting them both at risk. Silently, while giving the silver mech his full attention, he accessed the wireless and sent an email to Jazz and Prowl, expressing his growing concern and desire for a quick exit.

"We share a spark," Sideswipe said quietly. "One spark, half in each frame. A bonded couple can survive the loss of their other half no matter how much it might hurt; they still have a full spark in their chamber. A twin can't. Prowl will be here in thirty-four kliks to pick you up."

"I don't have any wish to either of you come to harm, Sideswipe. But respect is, ultimately, not an emotion. It is a choice. I'm sorry it ended up this way. I couldn't pretend that I felt all right about sharing with someone who had so little respect for me that he wouldn't answer a legitimate question."

The silver warrior nodded and sent a silent command for the door to open before Prowl reached it. "He wasn't harmed, sir," Sideswipe spoke before the TIC had even finished transforming to base mode.

"Where is Sunstreaker?" Prowl demanded evenly.

"Went after Shimmerfire," Sideswipe shrugged. "She bolted halfway through watching us with Miles."

"He is telling the truth. I wasn't harmed. Just frightened. Can we please go?"

"Of course," Prowl inclined his head and transformed, opening his passenger side door for Miles.

Miles gave Sideswipe a final sad look, and then quickly climbed in, curling up on himself, miserable. "Thanks, dude," he whispered.

"You are welcome, Miles," Prowl said as he backed out into the corridor. "Where would you like to go?"

Miles fought back tears, not wanting to fall apart, but completely shaken. The twins were huge, deadly, and he was all to certain that if he really did get in the way of their sharing with others, they'd have no issue with making their problem go away. "I'm totally freaked out, Prowl. I don't want to be alone. And I need to tell you what happened... though I think it would be a lot easier just to show you."

"My office, or my quarters?" he offered. "Would you prefer Jazz to be there?"

Miles honestly didn't know. Did he want Jazz to be there? Of course. He always wanted Jazz to be anywhere he was. But he felt that Prowl was actually the one who would have to deal with whatever ugly wound he had opened up that could lead to harm or danger either for humans or for the twins.

"I'm fine either way. I'd never say no to Jazz being there, but I feel totally comfortable showing you, dude. I trust you, and your rational way of looking at things is probably just what I need right now. And either place is fine." He just didn't have it in him to make decisions at the moment.

"All right," Prowl's tone softened as he drove, heading for his office and allowing the silence to settle until they entered his simple, spartan office which was set up for efficient work rather than comfort or conversation. Yet it was where he was most comfortable dealing with stress in anyone other than his bonded.

Miles appreciated the quiet ride, allowing Prowl's steady presence to calm him. He got out and watched Prowl transform before looking around trying to figure out where to sit or how to even start to explain what was probably a long series of mistakes he had made that afternoon.

"Here." Prowl knelt and offered to pick up the human. "On my desk is the easiest place for you."

Miles climbed into the offered hand, feeling safer than he had since Shimmerfire and Sunstreaker first walked into the rec room. He gave a weak smile. "Jazz suggested once that I should just curl up on your lap like a kitty while you work on the rare occasions that I freak out."

Prowl raised an optic ridge at that as he stood and gently deposited Miles on his desk and sat down in the chair designed with his unusual anatomy in mind. "That does sound like something Jazz would say," he said as he extended a connection cable from his wrist. "You indicated showing me would be easier."

Miles nodded and took the cable, plugging in, feeling a steady, gentle presence through the connection. He curled his arms around his knees. Two large, strong hands curled around him, supporting his back and shielding him from the rest of the world.

~How do I do this? Can you just... look at my memories for the past few hours, or do I need to _do_ something to show you?~

~With your permission I can look on my own,~ Prowl told him.

Miles relaxed in the safety of those hands. ~Please look. I don't know if I've really fucked something up.~

Prowl nodded and began to shift through the memories, beginning with when Miles had spotted Sunstreaker and Shimmerfire walking towards him in the rec room.

He saw Miles' hesitance and misgivings after checking the database, his desire and arousal at the prospect of sharing to help another, the promise he asked for from Shimmerfire and Sunstreaker, his instincts growling that Sunstreaker had very little if no respect for humans in particular or organics in general. He saw Miles come to a decision to share with them not just because he thought he would enjoy it, but also to see if he was comfortable suggesting others to the frontliners as a function of his job, and the very small part of him that said yes _because_ he had assured Jazz that he was a sharing kind of guy.

Prowl saw the hint of mixed feelings as he arrived and began to immediately become intimate with a mech he did not know at all, who had no relationship with him, the small part of his mind that loudly insisted that he was treating himself like a whore, how the pleasure and excitement and Sideswipe's deep hunger had suppressed that feeling. He saw the incredible climax, and then the request to share with Sunstreaker, making all of the feelings Miles had been having rear back up. He watched Miles make a decision that he simply could not share with a mech who had no respect for him, who saw him only as a tool, and watched him boldly ask his question, deeply afraid of how it would provoke the golden mech, but willing to share with him if he saw even a hint of respect from him.

He watched as Sunstreaker erupted in anger, Miles' very real fear that he had provoked the mech and was about to end up squished, and then his almost instinctive fear of Sideswipe as he tried to explain that any of them would take what they needed if they had to, the realization of just how much danger he was in every time he was with *any* of the giant mechs. So much of his reaction was instinct... that something was not right, and that humans who shared with the golden frontliner were _not_ safe. But for them not to share with him was unsafe as well.

When Prowl backed out of his mind and disconnected the cable, he left Miles with a deep sense of the mech's own regret at the events.

"You have just encountered what is the most difficult part of our duties regarding sharing," Prowl told him quietly, still cradling the human and stroking his arm lightly. "As painful as that was for you, they did nothing wrong, not even when you were afraid. There is nothing I can punish them for. When Jazz asked you to share with any who asked, he did not mean for you to put yourself in a situation where you were afraid or could not enjoy it. You do not need to go with them, even if they ask you again."

"I did enjoy it, but it didn't feel _right_. And they won't ask me again, not after what I said." Miles sighed. "I know they didn't do anything wrong, Prowl. If anything, I did by ignoring my own misgivings. But what about when they _do_ do something wrong? Sunstreaker's record states that he attempted to attack a human. How can you in good conscience allow a socket to put himself or herself at risk alone with a mech who has no respect for them and could be dangerous if they simply said or did the wrong thing?

"But I'm also not a fool," he continued before Prowl could respond. "I realize that he and his brother are two of your best in battle, and that his spark needs to fed for him to continue that, and that even if a human is not entirely safe sharing with him, we probably are all a lot safer with him going into battle when he's needed."

"There is a much more important factor as well," Prowl said even as he gave Miles the distinct impression it was not something he was comfortable with himself. "This is a matter of life and death for us. There are only a handful of mechs in the army capable of allowing their sparks to extinguish from lack of organic energy. Everyone else, my bonded included, will resort to rape and worse if they do not perceive another choice, to continue living. Some will hide what they did, others will confess when they return, but almost all will commit such evil, accept the pain and potential punishment, to live.

"Sharing with Sunstreaker or Shimmerfire is not something I would wish on any organic. It is dangerous. If the organic is not already conditioned to being used, many will react as you did." He sighed slightly. "Jazz and I knew this would come. We had hoped for enough time for the contingency to be set up before they crossed this line. We will be finding a human from a culture who perceives people, or some people, as property to arrive in the next few weeks, or at the very least one for whom a life with the Twins will be an improvement. As dangerous as they are in casual sharing, once they claim a socket they are as savagely protective of it as they are of each other."

Miles sat very still, slumped against that hand that was still sheltering him. As mature as he had been feeling, trying to be responsible toward the humans on base, he suddenly felt _very_ young, like the kid who'd suddenly found himself as the man of the house.

"Dude. I guess it was about time my big romantic bubble about all this got burst. There's not a human on base who is going to be able to deal with Sunstreaker's attitude toward us, so what you are talking about is the only option, other than someone like me who understands the risks and what's at stake just sucking up and dealing with it."

Miles ran his hand along Prowl's finger, resting his head against the strong hand.

"What you're suggesting is _never_ gonna feel right to me, but I suppose it'd be an improvement for her, and she'd be used to being seen as less than a person. I assume, at least, you are talking about a her, considering the cultures that treat people that way do so to women, not men. At least she'd be protected rather than being at risk of an honor killing by her own dad cause some fucked up guy raped her. God, it makes me think of my sister and want to really hurt someone."

"Yes." Prowl inclined his head. "I dislike the idea as well, but we learned many vorns ago that it is the best one. Jazz has always been careful to select the candidate from a situation where being claimed by the Twins is seen as a huge improvement in life. It is the most we can do."

He paused to stroke Miles' back in a comforting gesture. "You are not the only human to have shared with them. I am aware of two others, that while not suited to be claimed by them, do share a berth well enough. You will not need to share with them again."

Miles leaned into the touch, feeling more and more like that kitten Jazz had mentioned. It felt so comforting _not_ to need to be upbeat, funny, and responsible, to just be able to feel young, confused and sad and let someone be logical, rational, and comforting. In a really bizarre way, the tactician felt like a father figure... a highly attractive father figure that he wouldn't mind sharing with on a regular basis, and man wasn't that a weird thought.

"It wasn't like I didn't enjoy it," he mumbled. "The sex part was awesome. It was after that I realized that I don't like sharing with people I don't know and who'd likely never see me as a friend... well... Sideswipe might, but not Sunstreaker or Shimmerfire. And who knows... maybe it would have been different if I hadn't decided to grill him about his attitudes. He had warned me about provoking him, after all. I just can't stand it when people don't respect others just because they're smaller or weaker. Humans do that way too much, and not just in backwards cultures."

He closed his eyes and again focused on the absolute comfort and safety of Prowl's hands and touch.

"How widespread is his attitude, Prowl? I mean, I realize the dude is the extreme, but humans who share need to know and understand and find ways to deal with it, and at least need to go into that kind of sharing with their eyes open."

"Yes, he is an extreme example. Shimmerfire may change. She is extremely young and of a type that is renown for being self-centered and arrogant even as old mechs. When she finds a socket that impresses her, as one did with Tread Bolt long ago, her perspective will change. Prime has ensured the law says you are our equals and there are few Autobots who will go against it.

"Being able to see you as a friend and valued companion is respectably common. You should be able to expect that potential from all but the most socially impaired mechs. I will warn you of any of their arrivals, and we will be ready for them now."

Miles thought for a few moments, and then grinned. "I don't know, Prowl. It seems like the height of human arrogance to see ourselves as equals with people who by our standards are practically immortal and can think about a gazillion times faster than us, no matter how great the sex is. I'd be pretty satisfied just to be your lap cat while you work. Kind of nice not to have to be the dudes on top of the food chain, for once. And, by the way, nothing has changed for me. I _still_ find you completely likable."

"Thank you." Prowl graced him with a barely-there smile. "I am pleased you are feeling better. I do not suppose Jazz shared that particular socket-memory with you?"

Miles grinned at the _barely-there_ smile, knowing that he was still 'marginally tolerable' after his socket-related freak out. "Naw, he didn't, but I'm hopin' you will, dude."

The smile extended just a tad. "Her name was Ra'aw-ra," he pronounced it precisely in a voice that was no doubt created to mimic her species, for it didn't sound a lot like Prowl. "She was a socket that Jazz and I shared later in the war, one of the few alive at the time." He shifted to take a small datapad from his drawer and flicked it on, bringing up a hologram of a reddish-orange tabby felinoid who stood about four feet tall if the image was life sized. Though it didn't have any breasts like a human woman, Miles had no trouble responding to the image as a female. Her hips were wide and there was just something... maternal... about her. "Unlike humans, she was extremely content to do nothing but mate, raise kittens and sleep on any part of me that wasn't moving."

Miles grinned at the picture and then back at Prowl. "She _looks_ like a mother, and how you describe her sounds so much like a cat. I guess there are some constants across the universe, including felines, even sentient ones, sleeping on any warm spot they can find. But I do have _some things_ in common with her. I really like to mate, I want kids, and dude, as hard as I've been working lately, before I came here I really liked to sleep late and nap whenever I didn't have a thousand things to do for Mom or Veronica. I'm glad you told me about her. I know there have been lots... there have to have been with how old you guys are, but I'd really like to know about them."

"Yes, there have been many, though not as many as Mirage, Hound or Wheeljack. I hope there will be time for many more." He paused to consider Miles for a long moment. "Do you truly wish to know about those who have shared with us before?"

Miles grin got even wider. "Of course I do. I want to see the ones who made it through your application process, boss, cause I really want the job. In a strange sort of way, even long dead, they'd be family." He laughed brightly.

"Very well." Prowl extended his cable once more. "A direct sharing is much easier and faster than speech."

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Sunny Side Up | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 |

Hunting Pleasure | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 |


	20. Hunting Pleasure 8: Claiming Miles

**Fandom:** Transformers Bayverse  
**Author:** and  
**Pairing:** Jazz/Prowl/Miles Lancaster  
**Rating:** NC-17 for mech/mech/male  
**Codes:** Slash, Xeno (Transformer/Human)  
**Summary:** Jazz, Prowl and Miles come to an important decision.  
**Notes**: Written in the Dathanna de Gray fanverse **"text"** translated Cybertronian.

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Hunting Pleasure 10: Claiming Miles

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Jazz tapped in his pass code to Prowl's office door, intent on molesting his bonded after a stressful morning preparing Mirage for an emergency mission only to stop dead in his tracks as the door closed behind him.

Prowl was sitting at his desk, working with a stylus in one hand and datapad on the desk, slightly bent over in his focus.

All normal.

Miles was sprawled on Prowl's lap, deep in recharge and relaxed to a nearly boneless state, with Prowl's other hand stroking him lightly and ensuring he didn't fall off his lap.

Definitely not normal.

**"Afternoon Jazz,"** Prowl's voice was quieter than usual, with the affectionate lilt to the Cybertronian that Jazz hadn't heard since their sweet Ra'aw-ra had passed on. **"Mirage has left?"**

**"Yes,"** he murmured, still staring at the scene. **"So ... when are we going to claim him?"**

Prowl looked up from his work, then down at the human in his lap. **"It seems so quick. How could he know we are right for him? You know what it's like when we make a mistake."**

Jazz shook off his shock and walked up to stroke his bonded's shoulders, looking at Miles from an angle he was more familiar to seeing another in. **"When has one who climbed into your lap and stayed there been a mistake?"**

Even knowing the answer, Prowl obligingly reviewed his entire record.

**"None,"** he admitted.

Miles slowly woke, thinking he had heard someone familiar call his name. He felt warm, comfortable and safe. He opened his eyes and did a double take as two golden optics and a purple visor looked down at him from above while a large hand stroked his back. Memory suddenly returned of what felt like hours but was perhaps only moments of sharing Prowl's perfectly rendered recollections of the sockets he had shared with Jazz. He knew that he had seen Prowl's exact, recorded memories, but Miles own recollection of the sharing was blurry and vague. He recalled that some were fascinatingly alien, some startlingly familiar, some strangely sad and others so erotic that Miles had climaxed with the intensity as remembered pleasure spilled into him. At some point in it all, he must have ended up on Prowl's lap, emotionally spent and exhausted, but utterly content and feeling as though he never wanted to move.

He blinked several times, smiled at the faces looking down at him and gave his characteristic "hey dudes" with a lazy smile.

"Hay dude," Jazz grinned back down. "I take it you've recovered from Sunny?"

Miles laughed. "Sunny? Who's Sunny? Big dude? Squicked out by touching little organic guys and acts like he is going to flatten them when they ask him perfectly legitimate questions?" he said in a lighthearted voice. "Yeah, I'm good, man. Prowl took care of me."

"That's our Sunstreaker," Jazz chuckled and reached down to stroke his hair gently. "That's good. I was stuck in a meeting I couldn't really leave. So, it seems my Prowler has consented that you're a good choice for a claimed socket. Now it's up to you."

Miles eyes widened, and then his face broke into a huge grin. "Dude," he whispered. "No way ... really? I mean ... you want _me_?" he looked at Prowl, then back at Jazz. "Both of you?"

"What's not to like?" Jazz grinned. "You have any idea how difficult it is to get Prowl to agree to a socket claim?"

Miles just kept looking back and forth between the two with a sappy grin on his face. "Well come on, dudes. You know I'm your man. I totally planned on ... or at least hoped to be claimed by _someone_. It felt like too much to hope that it would be the two of you ... I didn't want to get my heart set on it and get all emo when it didn't happen, you know?"

"Yes," Prowl nodded, though now that he was completely awake and paying attention, Miles could feel tension in his frame that hadn't been there before.

"What's wrong, dude?" Miles asked. "I'm your guy. You can look in my head if you want. I don't have any reservations."

"It's not that, bro," Jazz said softly as he reached down to pick Miles up and settle him on his shoulder. "It's being alone in a room with me and an unclaimed socket. Come on, we'll let him work and get to know each other a bit better. Then maybe I can coax him into letting me watch while he claims you."

Miles shivered at that thought. Prowl ... claiming him ... and Jazz, too. He wanted them both more than he had ever wanted anything, even for his dad to come back. That had simply been a kid's sad fantasy. This was real.

"I'd really like that ... all of it," he said quietly, reaching out to caress Jazz's audios and sensory horns while looking at Prowl. The white mech had focused on his work once more, but his frame was rigidly tense.

"He'll relax once I've claimed you," Jazz promised as he walked out. "Well, as much as he relaxes when he hasn't been 'faced senseless. You'll get better at reading him. That was 'I'm scared to have you here' tense."

Miles shivered again, his pants suddenly far too small, hopelessly unable to avoid becoming completely turned on in Jazz's presence. "And is that what you're gonna do, dude? Claim me? And then face him senseless once he's claimed me too?"

"Something like that, unless you have the energy left to join in a threesome instead of watching," Jazz gave him a wicked grin as they left the command building.

"Prowl showed me enough of those kind of memories before I passed out that I wouldn't dream of it any other way, Jazz man." He returned the grin, his body already trembling with anticipation of what was to come.

"Can you recall details about them?" Jazz was _very_ interested in what his bonded remembered and told Miles of such moments. "I'm always up for knowing what sticks in that processor of his."

Miles tried, and was noticed again how foggy his recollection was. "Not sure why, dude, but I can't remember details. Just a lot of emotions and some _really_ erotic images ... the one about the felinoid made me cum, I do remember that. And he told me her name and I can't even remember that. Brain cloud, dude. Better take me to Ratchet."

Jazz snickered at the movie reference. "I think I'd rather jack into you and show you what a _real_ brain cloud feels like."

Miles snorted. "Jazz dude, are you trying to tell me that you are going to fuck me so good that it is gonna damage my brain? Cause I'm cool with that."

"Good," the silver mech grinned mischievously. "I take pride in my lovers not knowing their own designations when I'm done with them. _You_ aren't going to know which way is up."

Miles knew that if anyone saw him, they would see the biggest, goofiest grin on his face that had ever been seen on a human being.

"I'd accuse you of bragging, except I know it's true, dude," he said as they entered the officer's section of the base.

"That, my dear Miles, was just a small sampler of what I'm capable of," Jazz's grin got even wider. "You'd be amazed all the tricks I've picked up in my lifetime."

"Damn, Jazz. You're getting me all wibbly. Are you sure you didn't mean you wanted that other Miles? You know, the one who wasn't Tranquility's biggest geek?" Miles trembled as they got to the door of the quarters the bonded pair shared. Memories of the last time he'd been here rushed to mind, the way Jazz had touched him, the sounds the silver mech made when he'd been touched.

"I want the Miles that Prowl allowed to climb into his lap and stay there," Jazz chuckled and quickly walked to the berthroom and set him down on the soft padding. "The one my bonded agreed to claim. Because there is _nothing_ hotter than merging with him while someone watches."

Miles felt as excited as he had been the first time he had ever been naked with a girl ... actually far more excited. He felt as excited as he'd ever been about anything as he looked up at the sexiest person ever to have been made of metal, giving him a goofy grin as he started to take off his clothes.

"I want to see that ... to feel that. I want both of you so much it hurts. I don't have a single doubt, other than why in the world the two of you would chose me, but hell, a little brain damage and that one will be forgotten."

"Good," Jazz knelt on the berth and kissed him lightly, using several cables to help undress Miles. "You'll be and feel a _lot_ in the years you have with us."

Miles stood so that he could reach Jazz's mouth and kissed him, at first hesitant and almost shy, but growing in intensity as he explored the cool, strangely soft metal of his lips and his silky glossa.

"I've been trying really hard not to fall in love with you," he whispered. "Can I stop trying now?"

"Definitely," Jazz rumbled, sliding his clawed fingers delicately down the human's bare skin as he brushed his connector cable against Miles' socket, then hooked in. ~Anything you want to try this time?~

He gasped as his perceptions instantly changed, giving him awareness of desire that was unfathomably deep ... desire for Prowl, desire for Miles, desire to claim. It took his breath away and he staggered, only to be caught by the caressing hand.

~You're the one with the eons of experience, Jazz man. I just want you. There isn't anything I wouldn't try with you. I want it all, and most of all for you to claim me.~

The silver mech purred against his mind; excited, eager, tightly control desire all flowing openly from his mind into Miles' with the brushes of pleasure that had nothing to do with where his hands were touching.

Jazz closed his hands behind Miles, supporting him as he nuzzled his chest, then lowered his head to slid his glossa along the quickly hardening cock.

It felt as though a hundred hands were finding erogenous zones Miles had never known existed, simply from the impulses Jazz sent through the link. Miles collapsed completely into the supporting hands and moaned as the silky alien metal caressed his throbbing rod, his hips bucking into the sensation.

The boyish man could already feel the slowly building ecstasy of his own pleasure and joy streaming into Jazz's hungering spark. It hungered for _him_, causing Miles to shudder in anticipation of what he was about to give it. He reached out and ran his hands along Jazz's elegant sensory horns, before grabbing hold to squeeze his approval of what has happening to his aching cock.

He instantly felt the pleasure it caused Jazz, the sensation not unlike having his cock stroked. It was almost enough to make him miss the penetration of a slick cable into his ass, slowly stretching him as it pumped in and out, gradually expanding in size.

~Oh God yes,~ Miles cried out verbally and in his mind as he allowed the shared sensations from Jazz to guide his hands and then his mouth on the elegant silver structures, squeezing and caressing, his tongue and fingers exploring and probing the fine grooves even as his hips joined the rhythm of the pumping, stretching cable. He burned with desire around it, wanting so much more. Wanting to be taken and marked and claimed.

~Soon,~ Jazz promised as his interface panel slid open, pleasure coursing through his body as strongly as it did though Miles'. ~As soon as you're loose enough. I won't hurt you.~

Through all the other deliciously distracting sensations, Miles hadn't realized just how sore he was form Sideswipe's spike that had been just a little too big and had taken him a little too fast. Though pleasurable at the time, it had bordered on pain and certainly pained him now. He realized that Jazz's keen sensors knew more about his body and its limits than he did. He closed his eyes and sank into the sensations, willing his clenching hole to loosen and relax.

~I don't have to take your ass to claim you,~ Jazz offered gently. ~Your mouth will work just as well.~

~I want you to take my ass. I wish you could take me hard, but it will have to be gentle. Though sucking you off has lots of appeal.~

Jazz chuckled. ~You are rather good at it,~ he rumbled in remembered pleasure and shifted, laying on his back, his spike slightly smaller than Miles' own. ~Your ass is nicely stretched and slick. If you want to lube up my spike, go for it. Your pace. I will overload.~

Miles grinned like a kid in a candy shop and knelt between Jazz's legs. He caressed the Saboteur's slick valve, lingering there, running two fingers along the inside edges to take the needed lube before running his tongue up the silver spike first before following with his slicked fingers.

As fun as the frantic pace of their first coupling had been (and he was sure there would be many times just as frantic in the future), he felt awe at what was about to happen, and it was suddenly good to go slow. He climbed up for another lingering kiss before straddling the silver mech's abdomen, positioning the tip just at his hole.

"I love you, Jazz. I want to be yours," he said softly before lowering himself down onto the warm, slick, silky smooth metal.

"You will be mine," he promised, groaning as his spike was enveloped by warm flesh. The anticipation of a claim rushed across his systems, priming him for a quick overload to ensure his nanites were used. "Mine and Prowl's."

Miles slowly hilted Jazz's silver spike and gasped as he was filled and it brushed his prostate. He paused to simply feel the fullness and to adjust, rocking his hips slightly to grind his cock into Jazz's abdomen before pulling nearly all the way off and coming down much faster, this time at an angle to directly hit the sweet bundle of nerves again, causing him to cry out.

Reaching out, he caressed seams and wiring with lithe fingers as he began a steady rhythm, his body and mind whirling with the intense pleasure and anticipation that Jazz pushed into the connection with each downward movement of Miles' hips.

Miles felt Jazz fling open his bond with Prowl, feeding the tactician every sweet sensation from them both and the anticipation of the claiming. Prowl's groan in response echoed clearly, as was his readiness to join them after Jazz's nanites had done their job.

Feeling Prowl through the bond with Jazz opened the floodgates. Miles was stunned by the intensity of that anticipation and raw spark hunger that raced back through the bond and spilled over into his own crescendo of pleasure. His body and mind were spiraling upward toward a climax that was so much more than physical, his awareness finally centering on Jazz's bright spark, so very old and so vital, that seemed to be physically reaching for him, asking for him to come, even as Jazz reached out to his bonded.

~Oh God ... so close ... please!~ He wasn't even aware of what he was asking for, just that he needed.

Jazz responded with a burst of pleasure right to his brain, to that primal part that was barely more than spinal nerves, and soaked up the results. His body trembled, trying to hold off so their climaxes came together. His hands reached out almost blindly, cables found Miles' cock and wrapped around it, stroking and pumping, one tip teasing the slit at the top of the spongy head, another tip playing with the edge of his foreskin.

Miles heard somebody scream, not even aware it was his own voice as his body burst into a climax so intense he forgot everything but pleasure, not only his cock erupting in sweet release, but also every nerve in his body. Jazz's spark, perceived in the human mind's eye through their connection became blindingly bright, growing, seeming to encompass him body and soul.

Even as high on his on his own pleasure, when Jazz finally let go it was a rush of an entirely different kind. Heat spread from the rush of fluid in his ass, sweeping through his body.

If someone had asked Miles to describe it later, he could not have found the words, other than murmuring something about thousands upon thousands of pulsing stars.

In his mind's eye, Jazz's spark seemed to flair again, even brighter, but this time thousands upon thousands of tiny lights in his own body pulsed back as they raced through him.

One day, someone would explain to him about his own energy signature, and how the nanites were shaping that organic energy to be even more resonant with the sparks he was destined to nourish through the next millennium or two. The nanites were already embedding themselves in his every cell, making changes to the cellular and mitochondria DNA to enable health and vitality and long life, allowing his energy to fully resonate with Jazz's, and causing his own energy signature to be easily recognized by any Cybertronian as being connected to the one who claimed him.

But none of the explanations mattered now. All that mattered was that a wholly new, alien pleasure was racing through him, and it seemed that his entire body was pulsing with light and ecstasy that Jazz's spark drunkenly consumed.

~Oh yes,~ Jazz's voice was hazy in a drunken, blissed out way as his mind reached out to wrap fully around Miles', welcoming him into his life. ~So very sweet.~

Jazz's earlier promise that Miles would forget his own name was all too true. The young blond collapsed only the mech, limp and boneless, and could only murmur something in his head that sounded like ~fuckingawesomegodIloveyoudude.~

Jazz chuckled lightly, stroking Miles' back with sensitive claws. ~Yes, it is, and I'm glad.~

Then another hand on touching him. Larger, less sensual, less sure of its movements.

Miles turned his head and smiled broadly at Prowl, so relaxed and sated that he almost felt drunk. "Hey you," he said softly, reaching his hand out to put it on top of a finger of the larger one.

"Hello," Prowl's usual formal tone was gone. He still sounded a bit restrained, but the arousal making his body burn was clearly audible as he knelt on the berth. A slow tremor passed through his frame as his gaze swept over his bonded and Miles. "How would you like me to claim you?"

Miles gave him a wicked smile. "Would you like me to suck off your spike?"

The large white mech shivered. "I would like that," he almost kept his voice level as he lay on the berth. One hand pulled Jazz's head to him for a kiss while the other caressed Miles with fingers and cables, encouraging him to extract himself from Jazz's spike.

Through the connection to Jazz, Miles felt the intensity of what was a simple kiss, and then Prowl was there too with a reaction just as strong to the touch of his bonded.

Miles looked up at surprise when he suddenly had both presences so clearly in his mind, and then grinned realizing that he was now double connected with the bonded pair. He moved himself between Prowl's larger legs, watching their kiss with hunger even as the power of it flooded him, stirring his cock.

He was keenly aware that this was the first time he had touched Prowl in a sensuous way, and he ran his hands along black thigh plating and cables, and traced the seems of the mech's hot to the touch black and white interface panel.

~Let me touch you, Prowl.~

~Anywhere,~ the mech's deep mental voice was thick with desire. He groaned into Jazz's mouth as the click of the panel unlocking, then sliding out of the way. His spike, the same brilliant white as much his armor, was already extending and sized for Miles. The round opening below it glistened with thick, oily lubricant.

~Make him moan,~ Jazz added, shivering when Prowl took an opening to shift his attention to the silver neck cables.

Miles grinned at the two, and then boldly caressed Prowl's dripping valve, inserting two fingers and circling them around until he had collected an ample amount of the silky-feeling, thick pearlescent lubricant. He then encircled Prowl's spike with his slicked hand even as he took the tip in his mouth and swirled his tongue, tasting something that was uniquely Prowl.

The large mech shuddered, the pleasure rippling through his frame and into Miles, showing the human exactly how good what he was doing felt and how much Prowl wanted it to continue. Cables curled around Miles' body, stroking and exploring him as Prowl sought to know every inch of the organic he was about to claim.

Further emboldened by the touch and feedback, Miles licked the length of Prowl's spike, guided by the bursts of pleasure he felt from Prowl to find sensor nodes and focus greater attention there, sucking and kissing the most highly sensitive spots before returning to the tip and taking him fully into his mouth, swirling his tongue and sucking while his hand squeezed and massaged below his mouth. The feedback was instantaneous and he moaned around the spike.

The tip of his now very hard cock came to rest at the opening of Prowl's valve. He felt an instant jolt of anticipation as it resized to suit him instead of Jazz.

Prowl broke away from Jazz's neck, his vents fully open as he used even his mouth to gasp for cooling air to cycle into his burning systems.

~You're doing great,~ Jazz encouraged Miles as the silver mech took advantage of Prowl's distraction to sprawl half on top of his bonded and turn his glossa on the broad red-paneled chest.

Miles pushed himself in, pulling his mouth off the tactician's spike momentarily to groan in pleasure at the gloriously tight, well lubricated hole that so perfectly sheathed his cock.

He paused, catching his breath before beginning to move, and once again took the white spike in his mouth, expressing with lips and tongue and hand his appreciation for the exquisite pleasure of fucking Prowl's valve.

In return he felt how _good_ it was for Prowl. Some small part of Miles' mind decided to point out that he shouldn't be surprised that Cybertronians had never developed the idea that a 'top' or 'bottom' was more or less vulnerable or powerful. He could feel it in Prowl most of all, maybe because he thought the large, visibly dominant and stoic mech would be a total top.

The thought must have leaked through the connection because he sensed a brief flair of amusement from both of the mechs before Miles no longer had room in his mind for anything other than the quickly building triple helix of pleasure as his thrusts became more urgent. Prowl began to slightly rock his hips in rhythm to fuck Miles' mouth, and guided by an impulse from one of his lovers in his mind, Miles allowed his teeth to run along the spike in a way he never could have with a human cock, stimulating the thousands of exquisitely tuned micro sensors at the tip.

Prowl's moan was deep and vibrant with intense pleasure as he shuddered. ~Won't last long,~ he managed to warn.

Miles only thrust that much harder, wanting Prowl's overload, wanting to be claimed like he had wanted nothing before. ~Claim me, Prowl dude.~

With a thrust and tightening of his valve, Prowl groaned and let go, his pleasure spiraling out to include Jazz and Miles. Lightly metallic fluid pumped into Miles' mouth, nanites entering his bloodstream and cells, changing him, making him even more compatible with the bonded pair.

Even knowing what to expect, Miles was completely undone as Prowl's overload triggered his own intense orgasm, his semen spilling out into the clenching valve with each thrust, and that pleasure was nothing compared the rush of warmth through his whole body as the quantum strings that made up the human and connected him with everything else began to vibrate in resonance with Prowl and his bonded. His mind might not have understood it, but his body knew that he was now a part of them, connected in a way that would only grow stronger with each sharing.

Jazz moaned, shivering at something he felt from Prowl that Miles' couldn't sort out, and stretched up to kiss his bonded with a fierce desire.

Though it didn't come in words, Miles got the distinct impression that Jazz would really like him to move.

As easy as it would have been to simply remain collapsed where he was, Miles felt a sudden thrill from the pair, and in a flash of insight remembered Amy, and what the two had not been able to safely do with an unclaimed socket. He quickly pulled out of Prowl's slick valve and moved to the side, making room for his silver lover to take his place.

~Ah yes ... this is the part where you face him senseless as I recall,~ Miles grinned in anticipation and watched as Prowl's spike and valve resized themselves to suit his bonded.

Jazz chuckled and Prowl moaned, his strong frame trembling as Jazz kissed his way to his spike, taking a moment to slide his mouth all the way down and drawing back as he licked it clean. Prowl reached down, stroking the sensory fins on Jazz's helm.

~Jazz,~ Prowl tried to tug him up his frame, not wanting to 'waste' time with physical pleasures.

Miles lay on his side, watching the pair with excitement and growing arousal, amused by his own insatiability. Jazz was _right_. They were incredibly hot, and the depth of desire pouring from Prowl alone was nearly enough to send the blond over the edge again. Their emotions for one another that they were freely sharing with him flowed through his psyche and body like a million gentle caresses. It felt so intimate that he briefly wondered if he should still be connected, as though he were privy to something intensely personal and sacred between the two.

Their spikes retracted, interface panels closed. Jazz slid up Prowl's chassis and kissed him, long and lingering, as their hands found and entwined. Through the cable Miles could feel the way their systems reacted to each other. Physically, there was little more than a kiss going on. Emotionally, internally, it was a liquid maelstrom of plasma as they went for intimacy as it was for their kind before the sockets, before Wheeljack created the spike and valve concept.

~As our socket, you are a part of this too, if you wish it,~ Prowl answered his musing, somehow tearing enough of his attention from Jazz's glossa in his mouth and the press of their chassis together to do so. ~You are part of our life.~

_You are a part of our life_ echoed through Miles, warming his mind and body and what might have very well been his soul. He felt penetrated by the simple words from Prowl. One day, he would explain that the physical claim the mechs had placed on his body and energy and the simple words Prowl said before the merge healed something in the youth that he had hardly realized was broken by his father's abandonment and his mom's emotional instability. But at that moment, rather than a conscious answer or thought, Miles simply overflowed with gratitude, awe, desire and joy before completely letting go of conscious control or thought or even awareness of himself, swept away by the intensely beautiful, alien intimacy.

With that last acceptance, Jazz and Prowl both allowed themselves to abandon all the modern additions to intimacy that had come from various organic creatures. They quietly, gently, sank back to what pleasure was before organics were even really seen as alive. Jazz brought a hand up to caress the chevron that decorated Prowl's forehead. Prowl reached up to stroke Jazz's sensor horns.

With the cable, Miles could not only feel the physical pleasure the contact caused, but the spark-deep pleasure of sensual contact as it was originally designed in them.

Miles simultaneously saw the pair through his own eyes, but also through their optics and sensors, and even more than that, through the bond that connected their sparks, their very truest and deepest selves, their very souls as humans would say. His mind had no frame of reference for some of the emotions and sensual pleasure their connection invoked in him, but it didn't matter, he simply felt and was no longer aware at all of where he ended and the other two began.

As their pleasure began to crest, commands he truly had no reference for were given and he was bathed in the pure white light from Prowl's spark, and the deep, purple-blue of Jazz for a moment before tiny tendrils of light reached out for the spark so close to it, gleefully grabbing hold and drawing it's lover closer. Energy fields merged, then the outer plasma of the spark, before the orbs themselves joined into a single, brilliant ball of light.

It was, without a doubt, the most beautiful thing that Miles had ever seen in his short years. While most of what transpired in the merge was beyond his organic mind's comprehension, the pleasure of it was not, and it instantly caused his body to physically and emotionally experience wave after wave of orgasmic release unlike anything he had ever experienced before. He was somehow keenly aware that his own lifeforce flowing into the joined sparks only added to the intensity of the pleasure for all three of them.

~Babe, please,~ Jazz's thoughts were suddenly there, a pleading, desperate intensity behind them.

Ecstasy erupted again, stifling Prowl's response for a sparkbeat. Regret was heavy in his wordless reply, and Jazz whimpered before they surrendered fully to the overload the merging of their sparks created across both their systems.

Miles had a moment of confusion about the plea and regret, but soon lost himself completely in the cascade of ecstasy that sent him into oblivion.

He wasn't down for long, and came to with his mechs ... yes, they were _his_ now, as much as he was theirs ... contentedly cuddled together, Jazz still sprawled on Prowl's chest, wrapped in Prowl's arms, both chest plates closed and their systems humming with the lingering pleasure.

He watched them silently for a moment, the corners of his mouth twitching in a smile, before saying, "Damn, am I always gonna pass out when you do that? I'm not complaining. But eventually you might find that there isn't much to me other than a horny human vegetable if my brain keeps getting that kind of charge."

Jazz snickered, his face still buried against Prowl's neck as his bonded lightly stroked his back armor.

"Never had't hap'n 'for," he responded, his accent thicker than any time Miles had heard before.

Miles decided it was really only fair if he got to cuddle, too, and closed the distance between them on the berth, trying to decide where he wanted to settle. "Which part? The passing out or the turning into a vegetable brain?"

"Veggie brain," Jazz continued to snicker.

"Don't worry. He's always a little odd after a spark merge," Prowl said calmly as he helped Miles to settle on his chest and Jazz curled an arm around him.

Miles decided another side effect of nanites running around in his body was that armor felt far more relaxing to lounge on than it should.

He snorted at the comment. "Makes total sense, dudes, considering what that felt like from my end. Seriously, guys, I hope you didn't pick me for my brains, cause I'm gonna end up so veggie brained that I'll spend all of my non-sharing time asleep on your lap, Prowl, dreaming of bright pretty lights."

"He li'd Ra'aw'ra lots 'n she dinna do mush else," Jazz nearly purred. "That'n get knocked up."

"So what your sayin, Jazz man, is that you guys didn't pick me for my brains, but for the potential that I'd lose them and spend the next millennium as a sleepy, cuddly, sexually aroused pet? Cause I'm cool with that. It will give slacker a whole new meaning." Miles gave the broad chest under him a caress and whispered "is he drunk, Prowl? Cause he sounds kind of drunk."

"In a manner of speaking, yes, he is overcharged. His systems are more adapted to handling the extreme charge of the last overload, so he took most of it," he explained as he stroked Jazz's back, attempting to lull his bonded into recharge. "It is not hazardous, but it does leave him in a rather odd mental state for a time."

Miles snuggled more closely into Jazz's arm that was holding him, feeling tired himself.

"It doesn't worry me a bit, dudes, but ... I do have a question. Right before I blacked out ... and I'm honestly amazed I even remember this, but anyhow ... you asked a question, Jazz, and then I felt ... well ... regret from you, Prowl. Can I ask what that was about?"

"Ah ask'm ta try f'r ah sparlking," Jazz murmured, his optic band powered down. "Ther'ws 'nough charge ta try."

Prowl revved his engine gently. "There will be other opportunities with better conditions," he murmured, the regret still reaching deep. "The base isn't ready. Ratchet isn't ready."

"Slag Ratchet," Jazz suddenly hissed, all his systems powering up as he lifted his head to glare at his bonded, the connection to Miles feeding the poor human a mixture of longing, rage and hate built up over so long he couldn't begin to contemplate it. "He'll _never_ be ready! Ah know what ah'm doing. This won't be mah first, ya know."

"I know," Prowl tried to sooth him, bringing one hand up to caress the round silver face and he put every comforting sensation he could through the bond. But with it was a lingering fear he allowed to show as well. "I know, my love. You know I only want the best odds for _my_ first."

Whether it was the words or the emotions, Miles couldn't tell, but it took all the fight out of Jazz in an instant.

"I know," the silver mech dropped his gaze as his spark beat with pain in every pulse. "But when? When will the odds be good enough?"

Prowl let a small sigh escape his vents, reaching out to wrap his bonded in comfort and care that was still just a bit alien to the tactician. "Soon, I promise."

Across the connection, Miles gathered a sense of what 'promise' meant in the world of Prowl and was honestly impressed. Not many said that and meant it with such absoluteness.

It seemed enough to settle Jazz as well, not just physically, but emotionally.

Miles looked back and forth between the two in amazement, feeling a combination of worry at the strength of emotions that his question brought up and awe at the topic. Being who he was, he decided to focus on awe, whispering "the two of you ... you are gonna to have a kid? A sparkling? Is that what Jazz called it?"

"We are going to try," Prowl corrected him even as he confirmed it. "Jazz knows he is capable of carrying and siring, but pre-programmed like myself did not exist until long after such a method of producing new mechs had been phased out."

"Even with two mechs who know they can create a new spark, it's not a sure thing," Jazz picked up. "Creating it is uncertain, carrying it until it is strong enough to support a body is difficult and there is ... was ... a thirty percent or so chance that the carrier would die at some point in the process and far higher a chance that the carrier would reabsorb the new spark before it is ready. What the odds are now is anyone's guess. I'm the only one still around that knew those times, has a system designed and created to support a second spark."

Miles stared at them for another moment.

"Do I get to help ... you know ... take care of it?"

"For as long as you're around," Jazz smiled slightly at him and reached over to stroke his side. "Sparklings need a lot of care an attention, though not in the same way as a human baby."

Miles eyes were wide, trying to digest everything that had just been said, on top of the fact that he had just been claimed by these two ancient beings and was going to be sharing his life with them for the next thousand or more years. The danger, the idea that they could have offspring at all through a form of reproduction, the fact that Jazz had implied that the kid ... or sparkling would be a sparkling for longer than his own elongated life span. Finally, he just smiled.

"Dudes, I'll help you however I can. I don't know if the charge I give your sparks makes any difference or makes it safer or something, but you know that's yours, whenever and wherever you need it. No matter how different from a human baby, if I'm lucky enough to be alive when it happens, as far as I'm concerned, the little dude will be family, and I take care of family."

Jazz smiled warmly at him. "Thanks, Miles."

"Yes, you are likely to be instrumental in our sparkling's existence," Prowl added smoothly. "It may not have been studied, but by all logic, anything that sends energy into the spark increases the chances of a successful new spark's creation and stability."

"Probably help the carrier survive too," Jazz murmured thoughtfully. "Even if it's only a little, anything that improves the odds is a good thing."

Miles had about a million questions about everything that had just been discussed, but then again, he had a thousand plus years to ask them, and his brain was feeling fuzzy and tired and Prowl's chassis was warm and even though he was covered in all manner of mech and organic fluids he didn't think his legs could make it to the wash racks...

The young blond gave a huge yawn. "Well, I like the idea of improving the odds for you. Now does anyone else feel like sleeping? Cause we little guys usually need some sleep after coming that many times."

"Rest sounds like a good idea," Prowl smiled down at his lovers, stroking each until they drifted off, then allowed himself to cycle into recharge.

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| Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 |


	21. Sunny Side Up 5: Challenge and Choice

**Fandom:** Transformers Bayverse  
**Author:** prophetbot, gatekat on LJ  
**Characters:** Sunstreaker/Sideswipe/Shimmerfire  
**Rating:** NC-17 for mech/mech/femme  
**Warnings:** Mechsmut, Het, Slash, Twincest, Violence, Sparksex  
**Description:** With Sideswipe fully recovered, he and Sunstreaker are out to set up a prank when they get a most unwelcome visitor.  
**Notes**: Written in the Dathanna de Gray fanverse

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Sunny Side Up 5: Challenge and Choice

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"You are crazy, you know that?" Sunstreaker hissed at his brother as they snuck through the base, a much more difficult task now that four-fifths of the population were tiny organics prone to reporting their movements to various mechs that shouldn't know.

"And yet here you are instead of curled up with Shimmer," the silver warrior snickered.

The golden mech snorted, though quietly as to not blow their cover. He didn't know why he agreed to these things sometimes. Probably because Sideswipe was always the one on his side whenever Sunstreaker was causing chaos and acting out of line. It was a give and take kind of thing. They each did brig time for something the other got them into, but it was always brig time together.

"That's to make sure you do things _right_," he confirmed, grabbing the silver frontliner's wrist and yanking him back just as a couple of humans walked past their position. ~Glitch-head. Watch where you're walking. See, this is exactly what I'm talking about.~

~Then it's good you're along,~ Sideswipe gave him a cheeky, unrepentant grin. ~Come on, we're almost there.~

Sunstreaker walked as close to Sideswipe as he could without touching him, optics vigilant as they neared their destination. ~Just be glad I thought your idea was amusing,~ he quipped. ~Otherwise I'd try to talk you out of it. To think, I could actually be painting you right now. Hm.~

~We'll get back to that, promise,~ Sideswipe crooned at him. ~There.~ He pointed to the tank used to filter water for human use. ~We just need to get this inside,~ he twisted a pipe-like device between his fingers.

"Sideswipe, Sunstreaker," a deep voice rumbled above them.

Sunstreaker had been so focused on looking out for humans and mechs alike on the _ground_ that the voice certainly managed to startle him. However, instead of showing it he tensed, helm slowly raising to catch the source of the voice and optics narrowing when they did.

"Tread Bolt," he halfway growled, almost in warning. One couldn't just sneak up on the twins and get special treatment.

"Then you should have an idea why I'm here," the translucent flier growled right back, showing his full Seeker heritage for the first time around the pair. Usually he was quietly sneaking around like the cowardly spy he was.

Sunstreaker was tempted to show off his blades, but held back, instead scoffing and keeping a firm gaze on the Seeker. "Why the slag would I know why you're following us around?"

~It's about Shimmer,~ Sideswipe warned him, already tensed as his battle blades unsheathed and locked.

The Seeker's optics narrowed, though if in response to Sunstreaker's words or Sideswipe's combat posture it was impossible to tell.

"Being polite to a grounder is over their head," he hissed, his wings high on his back in a pure threat posture as he hovered over their heads. "Stay away from Shimmerfire. She is mine."

"Did you just tell me to do something?" Sunstreaker snarled, believing he didn't _exactly_ need his blades out to prove he was about to start something if Tread Bolt kept it up. "Go get yourself fragged, Bolt, I don't take orders from you. Besides, I get the feeling she isn't that taken with you. Could've sworn it was otherwise when she was crying my name a few nights ago."

White optics widened and flared, then the stealth Seeker's engines rumbled a deadly warning. "She's a Seeker. You aren't worthy to sire her young, even if you _could_."

Sunstreaker got a fraction of a nanoklik of warning before Sideswipe snarled and lunged, using the building they had been hiding behind as a launch pad to try and sink his blades into the Autobot Seeker.

He wasn't particularly fond of Tread Bolt, nor was he of any of the other bots, but a low hatred boiled at the statement, and as soon as he _felt_ his brother attack, his blades snapped out from their sheaths and he followed Sideswipe's launching strike, only bouncing higher off the building as to not crash into the silver frontliner.

"Shows what _you_ know, tin trash," Sunstreaker barked in midair.

Tread Bolt rumbled and lifted above their attack range from the short buildings of the human side of the base.

"That was your mistake," the translucent Seeker growled. "You've had your warning, more than I'm required to give. I will not give another."

Sunstreaker wanted to tell Tread Bolt just where he could shove that warning, but focused instead on landing without breaking the concrete below him. "Give me two good reasons not to slit his throat cables while he's recharging," he demanded of his brother.

"You'll have to beat me to it," Sideswipe glowered at the Seeker's retreating form. "Arrogant is one thing, but damnit, she's an Autobot. He doesn't have any right to act like he _owns_ her."

Growling in irritation, the golden mech no longer had the need to watch after Tread Bolt, instead shifting into his alt form and revving his engine.

~I'm sorry, Sides, I don't have the patience for your prank at the moment. I'm going back to Shimmerfire.~

Being told what to do usually brought the opposite out of Sunstreaker.

~I'm with you.~ The silver mech folded into his alt and they raced to the iridescent Seeker's quarters, keeping their sensors primed for the stealth Seeker they both wanted to extinguish at the moment. Shimmerfire inhabited clear-roofed quarters above the enlisted barracks, but they were as large as Prime's thanks to her size. Technically she was an officer already, but the tension with Tread Bolt, who lived above the officer barracks, kept her separate.

Sunstreaker drove silently as well as quickly, aware of his brother right on his bumper. Within minutes, they were upon her door, and he stretched into his base form professionally while he pinged Shimmerfire's private comm link.

::Excuse me, beautiful, but you have two mechs at your door step,:: he mused with a slight smirk, despite how Tread Bolt's warning put him in a sour mood.

Her response was a playful laugh and the door slid open. ::In the wash rack. Did the latest prank get messy?::

Sunstreaker hesitated in his response, stepping through the door even before it opened all the way but glancing back at Sideswipe after he was inside. ::Something like that.::

They heard the water turn off and she stepped into the main room of her quarters, the one that housed everything except her extensive wash rack, still glistening with water to check them out with her own optics.

"You don't look discolored." She cocked her head slightly and stepped closer to them, her wings twitching in uncertainty.

~Should we tell her?~ he asked carefully, appearing to be physically calm and attempting to justify the brief silence as him taking in her after-shower look.

~Yeah, we should. How else to explain our rush here?~ Sideswipe pointed out.

~True.~ Sunstreaker stepped closer into the room, his optics grazing across her perfectly positioned wings.

"We were just given a visit by Tread Bolt," he began, unable to hide the obvious distaste in his voice, "specially to tell us that we were to stay away from you, since, according to him, you belong to him."

Her turbines rumbled, deep and furious, as her wings swept up and a scowl marred her features. "What were his exact words?"

"'Being polite to a grounder is over their head. Stay away from Shimmerfire. She is mine'," Sideswipe repeated, matching the inflections fairly well.

Her engines rumbled again, her wings trembling in constrained fury. "He's claiming the right to court me, but the intention is close enough. Seeker to Autobot isn't always precise."

"We might have tried to attack him," Sunstreaker offered absently, almost proud to admit it. If that gave them any trouble, he could always just point out that Tread Bolt basically started it.

"Good," she rumbled with definite satisfaction. "Any damage done?"

"No, the coward flew out of range," the golden warrior scoffed, wondering just what might have happened had either of the twins gotten their blades into the retreating Seeker. "At any rate, he thinks we're not worthy of you, Miss Shimmer."

Sunstreaker reached out, ghosting his fingertips over her right wing. She pressed into the touch shamelessly, as well as into the strokes to her back that Sideswipe slipped around to deliver.

"That's my choice, not his. He may be a Seeker, but he's not a warrior."

They should have been able to tell by how she appeared to crave the touches they gave her, but Sunstreaker was more cunning than that. "And what is your choice?" he asked almost playfully, drifting the hand not stroking her wing to rest against her slim hip.

"I want a warrior, or two." She grinned down at him before grabbing a head-vent and pulling it back to claim a hot, demanding kiss. "One _worthy_ of siring the next generation."

His mouth plates matched her grin in one of his own, eagerly responding to the kiss with a force that was its own possessiveness. There was nothing like being told to do one thing and completely defying with another, especially when that defiance included a femme to whom he was warming up to more than he had to any other mech - excluding his brother, of course.

"Oh, well, then Tread Bolt has another thing coming," he mused, swiveling backwards on his pede and coaxing both her and his brother after him towards her large berth.

"Yes, he does," she rumbled deeply, a sound they were both learning to equate with arousal as she willingly followed. "Arrogance and entitlement only works when you have the goods to back it up."

Sunstreaker couldn't hold back a laugh, confirming his complete agreement with her statement. "We all know where the _goods_ really are," the golden mech affirmed, reaching for one of her arms so he could drag her down on top of him as soon as he fell back onto the berth.

She caught herself so her greater mass didn't crush down on him as more than a warm, welcome pressure, and assaulted his mouth again. A deep groan of pleasure rumbled from her entire chassis as Sideswipe got his fingers along the leading edge of her wings and rubbed tightly.

Sunstreaker pressed himself chassis to chassis with Shimmerfire, letting the deep vibration of his engine combined with their warmth wring a pleasurable moan out of both of them. He made sure to keep the bond between himself and his brother completely open, sharing every sensation.

The golden warrior shifted his hands, fumbling them over every area under her shimmering armor to fondle the delicate, sensitive wires and circuitry beneath while his glossa tackled hers.

Even though she stood no more chance against the pair of them in the berth than she did on the battlefield, Shimmerfire did her best to get her own fingers under his armor and draw more of those sweet, breathy moans from Sunstreaker's vocalizer.

And she received just that. Sunstreaker became more aroused the more she tampered with him, until a slight hiss indicated that his interface panel covering had moved back, and his spike was suddenly pressing into her stomach armor.

She shivered and rubbed it between them, teasing the sensitive metal briefly before sliding her own panel out of the way.

Sunstreaker's attention was drawn by a jolt of arousal from his brother.

~I like this one,~ the silver warrior rumbled, sharing the image she'd sent him of both warriors deep in her valve as they worked her wings.

~Mm,~ Sunstreaker responded, with a slight tweak of his spike as its erection tightened almost painfully. ~She _did_ say she wanted two warriors, didn't she?~

The golden frontliner tore a hand away from underneath her armor to do just that - rubbing hard and sensual circles along the wing Sideswipe wasn't paying attention to. ~You take her first and I'll join you. Just wanna see the look on your face.~ Sunstreaker smirked.

Shimmerfire arched, pressed her wings opposite directions to encourage the touch, then called out shameless, wordless encouragement when Sideswipe thrust into her valve with a single powerful stroke.

~It's gonna feel so good with you in here, bro,~ Sideswipe panted.

Anticipation shot through the golden frontliner. He braced Shimmerfire with distracting touches to her sensitive wings while he positioned himself alongside his brother's spike, easing himself in halfway before plunging deeper with a jerk of his hips. Then there was no stopping his moans as he set the pace, thrusting deeper.

The roiling bliss from Sideswipe cascaded over the bond to Sunstreaker, and Sunstreaker's ecstasy crashed into Sideswipe. Both thrust, grunted and moaned, one pulling out while the other thrust in to create the most friction in the impossibly tight valve of the Seeker pinned between them.

Shimmerfire shivered and whimpered, her body already on the verge of overload as she squeezed down around the pair. Her chest armor unlocked, but she forced it to remain closed against every instinct clamoring for her to use these warriors for her young. They were strong, fast, agile and deadly. They would make strong Seekerlings. Strong young to rule the sky with her.

Sunstreaker, even over the loud noises they created together, could hear the unlocking of her chest armor, and was nearly surprised to see that she forced it to remain shut. ~She's fighting it,~ he managed to groan, quickening his pace and reaching out to coax Shimmerfire's helm towards him to trap her mouth plates against his.

~She'll never ask you to merge with her,~ Sideswipe grunted what he'd said that first time. ~Respects you enough not to.~

There was something delicate about this closeness and intimacy that Sunstreaker was sharing not only with his brother, but now their ongoing lover that Shimmerfire had become. It went without saying how attached they were becoming, really. Sunstreaker had even done the ultimate jet judo in order to keep her from making one of the biggest mistakes of her young life. And now, in this moment, he almost felt that it was a shame they couldn't share an open bond with her, with how crazy these sensations between the twins were climbing.

Golden fingers slipped between her wing joints, fingering the seam between her back and her most powerful attribute. His spark was pulsing in his chest, and whether it was calling out for Shimmerfire or Sideswipe, he wasn't sure. Perhaps both.

He felt something settle in his brother, but overload caught them both before he could put any name to it.

Shimmerfire cried out into his mouth, her entire frame trembling wildly as their overload and the transfluid pouring into her valve pushed her the last bit into hers.

Sunstreaker muffled his own groans against hers, and as he eased his movements until he was settled within her beside his brother, he pulled his mouth back, giving her lip plates a chaste lick before parting fully. "Slag... Tread Bolt can't beat that," he smirked.

"There's so much he can't beat," she trilled, her accent heavy in her relaxed pleasure.

He leaned his head forward a bit to rest his chin against her shoulder plates, earning him room to press a lingering kiss against his brother's lips as well before finally pulling out of her valve.

"You got that right," Sideswipe purred, resting against her back between her wings before slipping under her left wing to press against his brother. ~You really are starting to like her,~ he murmured happily.

Sunstreaker chuckled lightly, satisfied by his overload, the two bodies he was pressed against, and the ridiculing of Tread Bolt. He thrummed, dimming his optics in a stubborn way when his brother's voice whispered to him within his processor.

~Maybe.~ He avoided answering that fully, instead pressing a kiss to Sideswipe's olfactory sensor, and then another to Shimmerfire's shoulder, almost mischievously.

"He'd better watch out. Next time he might not be able to take off into the sky, mm?"

Shimmerfire's grin was absolutely wicked. "We could get away with that?"

"Probably not," Sunstreaker admitted, though his tone didn't waver. "Never stopped me before. Hence the horrible record." The golden mech nodded his head almost solemnly, but there was a sense of pride as well, one that probably had Sideswipe rolling his optics.

"If you really want to hurt him, you have to make it untraceable." Sideswipe chuckled. "Hence the prankmaster status. Vengeance is sweet."

"Oh, I know you'll be all over that for me, Sides, won't you?" he mused flirtatiously, stroking a hand up Shimmerfire's backstruts. "You don't like him either. I'm just thinking we should get him before he attempts to get us, or whatever his warning entailed."

"Mmm, if we were in Vos, he'd try to kill you, or at least beat you both so badly I couldn't view you as suitable." She trilled happily at the stroking both brothers were giving her. "Here ... I'm not so sure. He _is_ more Autobot than Seeker."

Sunstreaker scoffed. Tread Bolt may have had the advantage in the air, but he was confident in his jet judo, and if he managed to get the Seeker on the ground... well, that was just more in his favor. "Maybe he was just trying to puff out his 'feathers' and make himself look bigger. I just wanted to bash his helm in. It makes no difference to me, really."

"I just wish he'd take the hint that I don't want to breed with him," Shimmerfire grumbled, snuggling against the frontliners. "You'd think _this_ would be enough."

~He's watching,~ Sideswipe silently showed his brother where the stealth fighter was on the roof.

The golden frontliner immediately gave a feral growl, shifting from beneath Shimmerfire and retracting his spike to shut his interface panel. ~If we attempted to reach him, he could just fly away.~

~How about we _really_ piss him off instead?~ Sideswipe grinned, catching his brother's mouth in a kiss. ~Repeat what we did, you against her back,~ he rumbled eagerly. ~And with a spark merge with me. Should really bust his bolts.~

Sunstreaker was still slightly grumbling, but the idea coupled with his brother's connotative mouth settled him down easily. His chassis rumbled in approval, and after attacking Sideswipe's mouth with his own for a klik or two, he shifted his weight under Shimmerfire's wing so he could move to her back.

He realized that it was a very convenient position to molest her wing span, and smirked in his brother's direction while he reached out to rub them tersely. "Ready for a second round?"

"Yes!" she gasped, not quite in surprise as she arched her wings into his hands. Her turbines whirled, her engine rumbled to life and her entire body quivered when Sideswipe added his efforts to his brother's assault on her senses. "Primus, yes!"

"Oh, she wants it," Sunstreaker crooned to his brother, massaging his fingers deep into the areas closest to her wing joints. "We'd better give it to her." His interface panel slid open again once he was in place, and his spike pressurized to end against her valve.

"Wants _us_ badly," Sideswipe agreed as his spike rubbed against his brother's, lining up to take her once more.

"Yes, both of you." Shimmerfire shuddered at the pleasure so temptingly close and grabbed Sideswipe's helm to kiss him with all the heat building up in her chassis. "Now."

"_Us_," Sunstreaker corrected himself, groaning lightly against Shimmerfire's backstruts as he pushed into her and immediately began fast paced thrusts. He wrapped one arm around her slim waist for leverage, the other giving sultry caresses on her wings.

~Oh _yeah_,~ Sideswipe howled across their bond, throwing it wide open as he joined his brother in pounding the Seeker's valve as she arched, moaned, and writhed desperately between them.

~Close off as much as you want,~ Sideswipe warned him before unlocking his chest armor so it could slide apart.

When Sideswipe's wave of pleasure hit him, Sunstreaker's doubled, causing his engine to vibrate heatedly against her back, pressed snugly against her to enhance the feeling. He grunted in acknowledgment to the silver mech, pressing an almost non-existent barrier to the connection Sideswipe was about to share with Shimmerfire.

His spark, still pulsing with need in its chamber, wouldn't give him the strength to produce a higher barrier than that. Instead, he focused that energy on his surging hips.

The sound of her chest plates opening in response to Sideswipe's was erotic and terrifying all in the same sensation. He felt as much as heard their sharp cries as their sparks reached out for each other; hers aggressive and demanding, his welcoming and hungry. Pleasure, raw and as intense as anything he'd felt while merging with his brother cascaded across the barrier. Sensations; joy in freefall, the rush of wind against thin wing, the exuberant joy of flying with your own kind all rushed into his awareness, but it was nothing like when her spark had touched him directly.

This time it was pure pleasure, filtered by the safety net that was Sideswipe's experience.

Sunstreaker's mental awareness crept carefully behind the protective barrier, gently nudging but not piercing. He still hated being so raw towards another person that wasn't Sideswipe, even if his spark almost demanded the contact, feeling that its other half was being pleased so immensely and wanting badly to join it.

He felt her spark notice his, and very, very gently reach out to him, offering without crossing the barrier it could so easily shatter. Ever so faintly, coming through Sideswipe, he could hear her.

~Want you, care for you, join us,~ her spark called to him in an entreaty that was entirely un-Seeker-like. ~Won't hurt you,~ it promised.

The awareness coiled within itself, shifting away from touching the barrier roughly despite how fragile it was to begin with. Her voice, though, carried through his brother's open bond, stilled him. Sunstreaker hesitated, afraid of what might occur if he gave in, but Sideswipe sent soothing waves, promising him that there was no pressure, but that he would be safe.

His spark pulsed, and he couldn't contain it any longer. The barrier disappeared. As thin and elastic as it was, it popped out of existence like a bubble. Sunstreaker immediately reached out first for his brother, wrapping himself in the familiarity, until that awareness shyly reached for Shimmerfire as well.

Ecstatic but as careful as if handling an early newborn, her spark caressed his, trilling a wordless song that carried with it a promise of safety and care. Even though it was a Seeker-thing, a Seeker-song, this close he could feel-know what it meant in her spark. As intense as the pleasure was, as badly as she wanted to immerse herself completely in both of them and immerse them in her, she held back. She held it all back, held everything her upbringing and her core programming demanded just for him, because she cared about _him_.

And Sunstreaker _knew_ that, he could _feel_ it, just as he could feel and hear her sing her Seeker-song for him. He felt foolish in having held back before, especially when he should have known without contact with her spark just how much she cared about him and his brother.

The pace at which he opened himself was slow, but the pleasure he sent wasn't wavering. He allowed her to feel just how amazing it was to be pressed into her valve up against his brother's spike, combined with what Sideswipe felt at the same time that only doubled the sensations. How proud he was that she'd chosen them over Tread Bolt, especially when that meant not only him but Sideswipe as well. They weren't easily accepted by others, given how psychopathic Sunstreaker tended to be and how Sideswipe always took his side no matter how wrong he was, yet she'd opened her very spark to them, and protected him from sharing everything far too quickly.

~Care for you, Shimmerfire.~ His mind brushed hers gently, his spark awareness joining the sun-like intensity of Sideswipe's. Suddenly the reality was something far greater than it had been. Suddenly it wasn't something to piss off the one who was watching them, but a true sense of unity between twins with one who was usually afraid to reveal himself, and the other who would give anything to see his brother happily share himself the way he saw him.

She shivered and trilled, crooned, continued her song of safety and care as she opened herself up in step with him, and never a step faster.

Sunstreaker felt, even more than her care, his brother's intense pride in him for taking this leap and joining in.

~Warriors, together. Strong, us.~ Shimmerfire's coherency was slipping in the pleasure she'd never known before. ~Try, little ones?~ she struggled to _ask_ instead of taking, an iron will built on respect for them holding training and instincts in check.

Sunstreaker's awareness hesitated even more than before, considering her request and knowing through her that she was forcing every code and instinct back with sheer will out of respect for them. Was it even possible? All their lives, they were told what they could and couldn't do was based on the fact that together, they were driven by the same, split spark.

The golden mech wrapped himself around Sideswipe again, though he didn't push Shimmerfire away. He coaxed her closer. ~Sideswipe,~ his voice whispered, his own coherency lowered but with some experience, higher than hers, ~would it make you happy?~

~Very.~ He wrapped himself further around his brother. ~Even if it doesn't work, to _try_ would be wonderful. She doesn't need a bond for it.~

Sunstreaker affectionately brushed over Sideswipe's mind, pouring love and devotion into him, even sharing some of it with Shimmerfire because he knew he couldn't keep her out of his spark any longer. Not when it reached for her. ~I want to make you happy,~ he droned, ~want to give you what you've always desired.~

If he couldn't give Sideswipe this, then they could try with Shimmerfire. She was the only way this could happen. That was what they had been raised to believe.

His awareness brushed over Shimmerfire, sharing more ounces of himself; his thrill for battle, flying above the skies during the times he and his brother attached themselves to the flying 'Cons. ~We'll try.~

He felt her very spark shudder in joy, her mind in relief and her base coding settling in contentment.

~Thank you, Sunstreaker, Sideswipe,~ she reached out for them with her spark, still careful but no longer holding back. But this time she was drawing them in as much as sending herself out, and Sideswipe was right there with his brother every moment until none of them could tell where one began and the other ended and the pleasure of body and spark crested into the searing white-hot ecstasy of a massive three-way spark-merge.

In knowing that even attempting would make his brother happy, Sunstreaker didn't hesitate. The images and emotions and memories all blended into one, and the golden mech was no longer just a part of himself and his brother, but Shimmerfire too was wedged perfectly between them, around them, and everywhere else in between. He gasped both audibly - though he wasn't in much control over reality at this point - as well as mentally, sending and receiving pleasure like he'd never felt it before.

An overload was imminent with this, he knew. He'd never fully opened himself in a spark merge to anyone but his brother, but this was extraordinary. Not only was he experiencing it, but Sideswipe was there, was everywhere, just as he was and Shimmerfire.

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| Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 |


	22. Sunny Side Up 6: Seeker Ways

**Fandom:** Transformers Bayverse  
**Author:** prophetbot, gatekat, femme4jack on LJ  
**Pairing:** Sunstreaker/Sideswipe/Shimmerfire, Tread Bolt/Shimmerfire  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Warnings:** Het, Slash, Sparklings, Non-Con  
**Description:** While out on patrol with Shimmerfire, Tread Bolt decides that he's had enough. This is the result.  
**Notes**: Written in the Dathanna de Gray fanverse

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Sunny Side Up 6: Seeker Ways

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It was late, late enough that Ratchet was in a sour mood that he was still up reading everything he could on spark-based reproduction in preparation for when Hound and Mirage were successful. He had little doubt that Prowl would soon be carrying as well, if Jazz's interest in helping him was any indication. It was a little creepy, being informed in such a way just how old Jazz was, and how many incarnations of Cybertron society the small silver mech had been part of.

He vented a sigh and focused on the text Jazz had provided once more, but couldn't shake the bad feeling in his spark that something was going down.

Another venting as he forced himself to accept that he would learn what it was soon enough, but not soon enough to do anything but pick up the pieces.

Just over two joor later, he was proven right when Shimmerfire uneasily poked her head into the medbay, her expression almost skittish as she looked to see who was on duty.

"Well don't just peek in, Shimmerfire. You are far too large to not be noticed, and you wouldn't just show up here if there weren't a good reason." Ratchet's words might have been irritable but his tone held plenty of patience for the young Seeker.

Her dim red optics locked on him and she hesitantly shifted to step the rest of the way inside. One glance and it was obvious she'd been on the losing side of a 'friendly' fight, but it was what his reflexive medical scan told him that had him on his feet immediately. Critically low on energon, likely low on recharge, and her spark pulse was far too erratic to be healthy.

Ratchet lost no time, guiding the young Seeker to the largest berth, immediately jacking in to her medical interface while simultaneously hooking up an energon drip. He deeply scanned her, and then did so a second time, not believing what he saw.

Six tiny sparks of energy were orbiting to her own, tendrils of energy connecting each to their carrier.

The tiniest beginnings of protoforms, one for each spark, had started to form in her main body, converting the empty space that could be used to store weapons or equipment into wombs for their development. The alloys and energy for it all coming directly from her large frame.

~You are carrying,~ he said, stating the obvious, as though he needed to convince himself that he truly was scanning something he never had in his long existence.

~I was fairly sure,~ she murmured. ~It's what my carrier said would be the signs of success.~

Ratchet scanned her yet again, assuring himself that all _seemed_ to be normal, whatever normal actually was when it came to the tightly guarded mystery that was Seeker reproduction. He disconnected and looked at her seriously.

"I will need to consult the database. I am unaware, other than highly theoretically, about how to proceed. Everything scans as normal, other than your needing recharge. Do you wish to inform the co-creator?"

"I'll tell you what I know," she promised. "My carrier didn't have a medic. He said instinct would see it through, but medical supervision was preferable. Tread Bolt knows he succeeded. I'll tell Jazz and the Twins when I see them again, unless you have a need to. The main thing my carrier mentioned was the need for a lot more energon, supplements to keep our frame strong from the leeching the Seekerlings will cause and frequent non-spark merging overloads to keep the electrical energy flowing strongly."

"Yes... supplements... of course. Just like an organic female. Mercury, certainly mercury. Also titanium, magnesium, rhodium and tantilum. Silicon too. I will create a supplemented medical grade energon for you to take for the duration... and how exactly long will that be?"

Ratchet silently cursed Tread Bolt for putting him... or, rather, her, in this situation. Seekerlings... just what they needed on a base full of fragile organics. Prime was going to have a special kind of breakdown fit.

"Umm... six, right?" She glanced up for confirmation before ghosting her hands over her abdominal plates, already shifting after a week to make space and divide her bomb bay into compartments for the Seekerlings to grow in until they were ready to be born. "Half a vorn plus a quarter vorn for each over three... so a vorn and a quarter."

Ratchet rubbed his temples in that strangely human gesture Prime had picked up. Six... six Seekerlings, carried by a young femme with no experience and only the aft head Tread Bolt and perhaps the fragging twins to assist her. Feeling a rant coming on, he replayed Mikaela's latest speech to him about bedside manner on super high speed thirteen times to calm himself down.

"Excuse me, Shimmerfire. I will return momentarily with supplemented energon for you."

Ratchet stomped out of the main bay to a side room where all manner of supplements were stored, cycled his vents, and commed Tread Bolt on a private line.

::You aft-headed pit-spawned glitched pile of slag. What in Primus name were you thinking?::

::About what?:: the Seeker asked, sounding honestly confused.

::Shimmerfire, you glitch! She is carrying. Six. Six Seekerlings and do you know how much medical experience there is on this base to deal with such a situation? Absolutely none. Not to mention the inherent danger of having sparkling Seekers around humans. Of all the irresponsible, dangerous, blatantly stupid things to do. You had better have a fragging clue how to deal with this and how we keep her safe, or you will have more than just me to answer to.::

::I'm old enough to know the process,:: Tread Bolt said, and Ratchet could almost hear him lift and flare his wings at the insult. ::She isn't the first I've sired on, and I've had a clutch myself. Sending you the basics until I have time to pull a detailed report for you. Short version at this stage is extra rest, extra energon with the supplements I've listed and plenty of 'facing without spark-merging. Her instincts should take care of pretty much all of it. We _are_ designed to do this, you know. So did she tell you who else is responsible?::

::She has informed me of the other co-creators. I plan to contact them as well. _You_ I contacted first because you would have a fragging clue what to do. Though I must admit that I am surprised. She was quite vocal in her dislike of you.::

::I proved I was worthy to sire them, even if she doesn't want me as her mate,:: he said with a shrug.

Ratchet huffed, but then relented. He would ask his questions later.

::I expect you know your duties. Thank you for the information. I will be relying on your expertise and expect you to report to medbay at the end of your shift. She stated she expects to carry them for vorn and a quarter. Do you concur?::

::If she was on her own, the way her carrier likely was, yes,:: Tread Bolt answered easily. ::It's a reflex to slow development when resources are limited. Given the supplies we have here, I'd expect closer to three-quarters of a vorn, a vorn at the outside.::

::Three-quarters vorn... right... slag.::

Ratchet cut off the transmission and leaned his head against the wall, knowing all too well that this was just the first of many unconventional reproductive situations he was soon to be dealing with.

"Slag it!"

He felt Mikaela nudge him along their bond. She was still sleepy, but roused by his stress.

~We get to deal with a pregnant Seeker for the next sixty to sixty-five Earth years, my dear, and it is only the beginning of the fun. I'm sorry for waking you. Rest now, you can help me forget about all of these slaggers later.~

He caressed her through their bond, assuring her that he would be fine after a few more rants and selectively thrown tools.

Her sleepy mind snickered and agreed before drifting back to sleep, leaving him to contact the rest of the co-creators and deal with Shimmerfire herself.

Ratchet debated who to contact next, and decided on Jazz, since he was the most baffled by that particular revelation.

::Do you care to explain anything to me before I start cursing? It isn't enough that you plan to knock up your bonded, you needed to knock up a Seeker as well?::

::She asked,:: Jazz told him simply, his attention clearly mostly elsewhere. ::She was already carrying when she came to me.::

::Six. There are six, Jazz. I am completely over my head with this, and you know that is not something I admit to easily.::

Ratchet almost said something far more rude about endangering the few of their species that remained in order play parent, but thankfully stopped himself, knowing that he _had_ to become accustomed to the idea for the sake of any sort of future. Early and unplanned or not, there were already intentions to reproduce the old way. Just maybe not for the Seekers on base.

::There would have been six with or without me,:: Jazz told him. ::Seekers almost always reproduce in trines if it's more than a single birth. Just be happy she's not carrying nine. She's big enough to. Tread Bolt should know a lot, and I'll send you what I know about it, Seeker and grounder.::

::Thank you, at least I can be relieved about that. A little warning next time, if you please. I don't wish to have pump failure.::

He closed the comm and sat, once again rubbing his temples with a hand, understanding Prime better than he ever had before. And just thinking about telling Optimus made him want to steal away Mikaela and go find another island to hide on.

Venting in a human sounding sigh he had picked up from the organics, he finally commed the twins of terror. He wasn't sure he even had it in him to rant.

::Well, congratulations are in order. As the humans would say, she is expecting.::

The first thing he heard was a squeal, an honest to Primus _squeal_ of joy, from Sideswipe. ::How many?:: the silver frontliner demanded before his brother could respond.

Sunstreaker, having been within very close proximity to Sideswipe when the news was commed to them, stared oddly at the silver warrior after his strange noise was made. But that wasn't even the beginning of it. He was silent, forced into his lapse of silence due to the surreal mixture of emotions he felt at knowing that their attempt to create a sparkling had actually worked. As strange as it was, he couldn't contain the pride that swelled in his spark, the guarded happiness he felt at knowing Sideswipe was finally getting what he had wanted for vorns.

True to his nature, he remained mostly silent, though he wrapped Sideswipe in his arms and kissed his brother's helm affectionately.

Ratchet wanted to rant. He wanted to curse and throw tools, especially at these two. But the sound of Sideswipe's unbridled joy created a soft spot in his spark. For as many times as he had practically rebuilt the twins, he was more fond of them than he'd ever admit. It was as though he understood what many did not - that they simply did what they were built to do as frontline warriors, and that without the stimulation of battle they had to find other ways channel their energy.

Primus help them all.

::There are six, and they should arrive in three-quarters vorn according to Tread Bolt. I trust you have enough awareness of Seeker reproduction to not be surprised to find out that you are not the only co-creators?::

There was a long, uncomfortable time of dead silence on the other end.

::Who?:: Sideswipe's tone promised extreme pain. ::Did Tread Bolt force her?::

A low growl came from Sunstreaker, loud and prominent enough that his negativity was conveyed over the comm link. ::Can we see her?::

::You will both remain calm and do nothing but support her. I want you to _both_ review the data I am about to send you regarding Seeker mating customs and the place that consent does or does not have in their culture. She is going to need the support of _all_ of her co-creators, including, I will add, Jazz, and if the two of you react around her in any way that is upsetting to her, I will have you removed and in the brig. Do you understand?::

::Yes.:: Sideswipe was still wound tight, but he switched his focus with the same speed as he did on the battlefield: most important things first, everything else out of his mind.

Despite how his hatred towards Tread Bolt was growing, he would rather _not_ be thrown in the brig while Shimmerfire was carrying. He cared for her before this, and he would continue to do so - now only with a strong sense of responsibility. After all, it was _their_ sparkling. And, as much as he wasn't keen on her other co-creators (he really had nothing against Jazz, he was just shocked to know he was another one), the sparklings were all growing inside Shimmerfire, therefore he had that connection with them all.

::Fine,:: Sunstreaker agreed eventually, huffing, simply wanting to see their mate.

::Then I expect you in medbay within a breem. She is going to need a lot of help and support from the two of you for the time she will be carrying.::

::She'll have it,:: Sideswipe promised even as the sound of his transformation sequence could be heard over the comm line before it closed.

Ratchet groaned once more and leaned against the wall of the storeroom. He'd known sparklings were coming, created the old way that had gone out of fashion before he'd been created, but not this many, not this soon, and definitely not by a Seeker first.

He _should_ have expected it, he really should have, but he had some small hope he held to that someone sane would go first. He was really hoping for Hound, given the big scout's caring nature and attunement to the cycle of life.

Cycling a vent of air, he stood straight, collected the supplements he needed, mixed them into a cube of medical grade energon and headed back to talk to Shimmerfire. He wasn't sure if he was surprised or not to find her exactly where he'd left her, laying calmly on her back on the largest med berth with her optics dim as she settled in standby mode.

"I apologize for that taking so long, Shimmerfire. Here are your supplements. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker are on their way."

Her optics lit as she cycled to awareness quickly and sat up. "Thank you. Saved me the trouble of hunting them down."

She took the cube and container of supplements to add to her energon later. "If you give Sideswipe the specs, I'm sure he can brew to meet my needs."

"I will do so. I think you will find you have a couple of very eager helpers in them, for better or worse. They are happy, though angry over Tread Bolt's part in this."

"I wasn't exactly keen on it myself, but he made strong sparks and that's what matters," she accepted it easily.

Sunstreaker, much to his slight amusement, successfully darted around humans at speeds that Prime would have heavily scolded them for using had he seen. Thankfully none of their superiors were out and about at the time that they left their quarters to race towards Ratchet's 'lair.'

When they entered medbay, it hadn't even been a full klik. Ratchet gave the frontliners a knowing look at the length of time it took for them to arrive.

"I will be in my quarters if you need anything, Shimmerfire, and I'm transmitting all of the instructions I received from Tread Bolt to both of the twins. I will leave the three of you to talk."

She nodded and turned her attention to Sideswipe, who only held off on tackling her with an excited hug long enough for the medic to get out of the way. She lowered her face and kissed him gently. "On the first try. We did very well," she murmured softly, both excited and nervous.

"It surprised me," Sunstreaker admitted, though he appeared pleased. There was no way he couldn't be, with how much approval and affection Sideswipe was throwing at him through their bond. "How are you feeling?"

"Good, nervous, sore, tired... mostly tired and sore," she admitted and reached an arm out to offer Sunstreaker a place in the snuggling hug she was sharing with Sideswipe. "It's been a Pit of a few days."

"If he really hurt you..." Sideswipe's growl was cut off by a kiss.

"He was rough, but not _that_ rough, my Sideswipe," she trilled his name in the Seeker language. "He wants the Seekerlings healthy too, and that means I'm fighting fit. All he did was pin me."

Making sure Ratchet wasn't anywhere within optic viewing range, the golden twin shifted under her arm and joined his brother in leaning closer to her. His light growl caused his engine to vibrate against her side. "Still hate his circuitry, but I'll stand him since there's no say in the matter that he's a co-creator," he grumbled.

"Thank you." She leaned down to kiss the top of his helm.

That, plus he was very aware of his desire not to put stress on Shimmerfire. Sideswipe's parental instincts were probably no surprise to him, but his own were new and unfamiliar, like taking his first steps. "You're going to be getting constant pampering from glitch-head here for the next vorn," the golden warrior mused.

"Damn right," Sideswipe said with surprising vigor, his fingers tracing over her abdominal plating. "But Jazz? You chose us, Bolt beat you, but Jazz?"

Shimmerfire chuckled softly and nuzzled him before shifting off the berth to stand, still wrapping herself around both brothers. "He's small, light, fast, deadly and very high ranked. He has a lot to offer, before and after they're born. He wants little ones _bad_ too, which makes him more inclined to protect and provide the best he can for them."

Sunstreaker, having been eying the plating his brother was ghosting his fingers against, looked up when she mentioned Jazz and his involvement. "If he wants them so bad, why not go to Prowl about it?" The golden mech frowned, finding it extremely hard to picture Prowl carrying, which might have answered his own question.

"As he put it, he's working on it." She didn't hide her amusement before turning far more serious. "The risks are far higher for them than they are for me. Especially for Prowl, given he was never intended to carry," she explained as she stroked their helm extensions and down their backs. "If there was a thirty percent or more chance your brother wouldn't survive the process, I expect you'd be reluctant to try," she addressed them both.

Sunstreaker's optic ridges furrowed. Beside the fact that it was common knowledge that twins couldn't create a sparkling together, he didn't even want to think about the possibility of his brother not surviving the process if they even _could_. It had nothing to do with how Sunstreaker wouldn't survive if Sideswipe didn't; the golden mech already knew that even if that weren't the case, he still couldn't live in a universe without his brother in it.

"Will you stay in my quarters tonight?" she asked softly. "I'd rather not invite Tread Bolt to think he can have guard duty."

"Of course," Sideswipe said quickly, seemingly abashed about not thinking of it before. "Come on, we'll get you settled in. I can start brewing the energon formula you need as soon as I move the still."

"We could request larger quarters," Sunstreaker blurted out, surprised at his own suggestion. He sometimes spoke without thinking, but that, well, he hadn't been expecting. "Because... you know, I doubt Sideswipe would recharge anywhere else now." The mech shifted on his feet.

Sideswipe rolled around Shimmerfire's front as they walked to give his brother a hug and sound kiss, their bond loaded with thanks, approval and delight.

"And I don't want to recharge without you," the silver mech added with a low rumble.

"Sides, quit it," Sunstreaker droned, doubting he would keep the contact very innocent if it proved promising. "I bet if 'Fire asks, we'll get a better chance. After all, she's the one carrying, and they'd want to keep her happy and satisfied." He wrapped a firm arm around his brother's waist and, with the other, pulled Shimmerfire closer to him.

"I will ask." Shimmerfire smiled and stroked their helms affectionately. "There will be major changes before the Seekerlings come, and Jazz will probably arrange for a couple of sockets, but that is construction that has time to happen. There is plenty of roof to expand to."

With that close proximity, they could feel him tense at the mention of a socket. He was still sour from the last encounter with one, with Miles, and he was on the streak of a stubborn refusal. One that he knew he couldn't keep up for long. "Even with the information Ratchet forwarded to us, I don't have the slightest idea how to take care of a sparkling. Slag, what if ours has my personality? Then it'll hate me." He urged to change the subject.

"I doubt that." She smiled and nuzzled him before they briefly separated, the twins to climb the stairs to her level as she flew. "They're fairly easy to care for. It's having six that will make it a handful. Seekers are born at least six feet tall, with wings, armor, basic adult lingual protocols for Seeker. Most will be able to survive without assistance within a few orn. What we are needed for is to keep them from accidentally killing anyone and generally teaching them how to be proper members of society."

Six of them. Sunstreaker was still wrapping his processor around the idea of one, and yet she was sparked with six. The golden frontliner shook his head as they followed her. "Don't expect _me_ to teach them morals. If they inherit mine, I doubt they'd be very civil." To a mech of his height, though, he was very conscious that the little ones would be, well, small. Where were they going to sleep? What if they got loose and hurt themselves? Or, worse, what if one wandered off and got kidnapped? Where in the Pits were these thoughts coming from anyway?

"Lover," she turned to kiss him soundly as she palmed her door open. "Seekers do not make good Autobots. Your spark, however, would make a fine Seeker. We are savage, brutal, the best and we feel no shame in pointing it out. The grounders we're drawn to are no different. You, Sideswipe, Jazz, your sparks are Seeker sparks, even if you can't fly."

"Oh, _we_ can fly," Sunstreaker mused, giving a knowing look to Sideswipe after lingering against her lips. "We can fly in different ways. Don't necessarily need wings for that, especially when 'Cons fly a little too close to the ground."

Once the door was opened, Sunstreaker automatically carted Shimmerfire inside and had her sit down on her berth. Even with how early on she was in the pregnancy, he doubted she was going to be doing much at all. He could feel Sideswipe not far behind him.

The deep, hateful growl and rush of _don'tkill-can'tkill-wanttokill_ across their bond told Sunstreaker everything he needed about what he'd been too focused on Shimmerfire to notice.

Tread Bolt had been waiting for her.

Sunstreaker kept his optics firmly on Shimmerfire even as his engine revved in warning, reaching a hand out to brush gently across her cheek as an effort to calm himself and remind Sideswipe to do the same. "Someone really needs to leave _right now_." Undoubtedly, that 'someone' was Tread Bolt.

She trilled in the Seeker language, not a word but a command to calm, backed up by her turbines. "Tread Bolt. You are not my mate. You are not even trine. Your attention to our young will be as their sire only."

The translucent Seeker rumbled his engines, displeased, but left without an actual word.

"Sideswipe." Her voice was soft now, calling him to her now that the threat was gone.

With a final check that the door was indeed locked, he turned to the berth and sat down next to her. "You said what he isn't, but what are we?"

"You are my mates." She caressed them with her wings. "Maybe trine. That's harder with grounders."

Weeks ago Sunstreaker might have been disturbed to know he had been assumed a mate without his confirmation, but now his spark pulsed, and he knew its other half was fluttering. "I thought you could only be a 'trine' if you were a Seeker," he observed, finally glancing behind himself and grunting in satisfaction now that Tread Bolt was gone.

"My carrier had a grounder, my sire, as trine. It's harder, it's never quite as strong a bond, but it can be done." She stroked their backs, nuzzling them affectionately. "Or I think it can be. He _called_ her trine."

Sunstreaker was still standing. He had an overwhelming sense of protectiveness for the two mechs sitting in front of him, and was quite aware that feeling extended towards the sparklings now - he couldn't deny it to himself. Even if he hated Tread Bolt, the sparklings he sired would be half Shimmerfire, and therefore he couldn't deny them.

"Is that something you want to do with us?" he asked, eying her abdominal plating a couple of times and finally shifting to kiss her helm.

"Want, yes." She reached out to pull him a little closer, along with Sideswipe. "I'm still coherent enough to recognize core programming when I feel it. There's safety in numbers, safety in the trine, and I'll be too heavy to fly properly during the last half of my pregnancy." She lowered her helm to rest against Sunstreaker's, then Sideswipe's. "A trine bond is strong; not a spark-bond, but still strong. Not something to do lightly. You're mates, you're strong and protective. It's enough for the programming. Maybe when my programming isn't screaming at me to make what bonds I have as strong as possible for the good of my young."

"Okay." Sunstreaker nodded slowly, reaching out to both of their helms for a moment when they touched, a spark igniting within him. "Sides, I'm in my mood," he said suddenly, frowning in knowing that he only had one canvas in subspace.

"For me, or her?" his brother asked. ~I can dart over and grab some more supplies.~

"Both," he replied simply, maneuvering out of reach and watching the two with keen optics. ~No, don't move.~

"Just relax and let him do what he wants," Sideswipe purred in her audio as she regarded them with a curious expression. "He wants to paint."

Shimmerfire nodded slightly and settled in to stay still for a while, no matter how difficult it was to be still for long.

* * *

| Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 |


	23. The Naturalists 9: Prayers to the Virgin

**Fandom:** Transformers Bayverse (POV'verse)  
**Author:** femme4jack, gatekat on LJ  
**Pairing:** Mirage/Hound/Alicia Rodriguez  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Warnings:** Het, Slash, Xeno (Transformer/Human)  
**Description:** After days in the medbay, Hound in finally coherant enough to be turned loose.  
**Notes:** Written in the Point of View fanverse (community .livejournal .com/tf_matrix)  
**"text"** translated Cybertronian.

* * *

****

The Naturalists 9: Prayers to the Virgin

* * *

The next several days were a blur for Alicia. Hound was in medbay, sedated but aware. He recharged only lightly, and she slept even less. Much of the time the bond was closed, but there were horrid moments when whatever agony Mirage endured forced it open, and Hound would weep despite his emotional and physical sedation. Alicia did not leave the medbay berth other than when her own needs couldn't be ignored, and then always rushed back. Ratchet tried several times to get her to take a break, to rest, but she staunchly refused, arguing heatedly with the medic until Mikaela would intervene and he'd relent.

At the moment, Hound was, thankfully, in recharge, and for once had not been pulled out of it by his own nightmares or the awareness of Mirage's agony. She took that as a hopeful sign, though she hated to admit that each incident of torture had caused her hope to slip just that much more. She sat, contemplating what she would do if Mirage's spark was finally extinguished, regretting to the depths of her soul that she had not demanded they both claim her despite the shortness of time. She wondered if there would be any reason for Hound to remain behind, and what she would do if she were left alone. She could not imagine returning to her life it had been, or sharing with other mechs, but she also knew how tenaciously and passionately she clung to life.

She sat hunched over, one arm curled around her knees on Hound's chest plates, tracing soft patterns on his plating and listening to the steady thrum of his systems and the indescribably painful harmonics his aching spark. Retreating to her childhood faith, Alicia whispered prayers to the Lady of Guadalupe (whom her adult mind knew was actually the Aztec goddess Tonantzin) to watch after her lovers and to intercede for them.

"Madre de Dios de Guadalupe, I know you lost the one you loved, the one you carried in your own body and nursed at your breast. I know you know the pain Hound will be in if Mirage should die, and how empty I would be without them. Protect them both. I will care for their sparks with the same strength and selfless passion you cared for your child, and with the same compassion that you showed for Juan Diego and your enslaved indigena children in Mexico. I will watch after their young like I would my own and like you watch over all of your children."

After so many days listening to every little change in Hound's systems, she knew before the monitors told her that he was cycling to awareness, and it was happening gently rather than from sudden pain from his bonded.

Ratchet's footsteps entered her awareness, but her focus remained on Hound.

"Do you mean what you just said?" the medic asked quietly as he came to stand next to the berth, a cube of deep purple-pink energon in one hand.

Alicia did not look at the medic, but spoke quietly, unashamed of her superstition or faith. "Every word of it, with everything in me."

"Be sure you tell _them_," he told her. "It will give them both strength."

"Every day for the rest of my life, if that is what it takes," she said, still watching Hound. She was quiet a moment and then suddenly turned toward the medic, realizing something. "You said _them_. Do you really think there is a chance Mirage will come back?"

Ratchet nodded slightly. "I can't say what kind of condition he'll be in, probably a real mess, but you don't get to be Jazz's SIC without being damn good at getting out of bad places." He paused, glancing at the door. "And honestly, I doubt Jazz will permit anything else."

It was the first time anyone had said _anything_ remotely positive to Alicia about Mirage's prospects, and she took the words themselves as an answered prayer, allowing her to at the very least hope again.

Hound made a disorganized sound as he tried to power up his optics.

"Hay there," Ratchet greeted him. "Things quiet enough for energon?"

It took the scout a moment of prodding at his bond and reviewing what had happened while he recharged before he answered. "Yeah, I think so."

She moved so that Hound could sit up and drink his energon, placing herself on his lap when he was settled enough to take the cube from Ratchet.

"It was the most peaceful recharge you've had since this all began," she commented, leaning in to place a gentle kiss on his abdominal plates.

"He's loose," he answered quietly, slowly sipping the thick medical grade energon. "In bad shape, but not a prisoner anymore."

"Madre de Dios! How long? When will he be retrieved?" Alicia felt tears of relief begin to pour down her face, her exhausted body finally succumbing to how shaken she was. "I've been praying like I was a little girl again, every waking moment today. I had lost hope."

"He's not leaving," Hound murmured, trying very hard to focus on drinking the energon. "Mission isn't done. He's not done. Maybe days, maybe weeks. Might get caught again."

She deflated just as quickly, wanting to scream 'no', suddenly so very angry. She pressed her lips together, determined not to let her fury spill over to Hound. How much more could they ask of him, of both of her lovers, after everything that they had gone through? Her eyes became steely and cold. If she could have, she would have stormed whatever base held her love by herself.

For Hounds sake, she didn't speak for several minutes, mentally going through every exercise that would calm her down. He had enough to cope with.

"What do we do now?" she finally asked.

"We wait," he told her gently, a large finger coming up to stroke her hair. "Ratchet'll probably turn me loose in the morning, when he's convinced I've recovered from the physical affects. Then we go back to what we were doing before. That's all there is to be done."

She turned and looked at him with fierce love. "_When_ he comes back, and is recovered enough to be able to, you two are claiming me. La Virgen and I had a little talk about this evening. Nothing is going to stop me from feeding those sparks of yours for the rest of my days and seeing you safely bring a sparkling to life."

Hound blinked before surprise dominated his features. Surprise gradually melted to adoration as Ratchet chuckled.

"The latinas are a fierce bloodline," Ratchet didn't hide his mischievous grin.

"Yours too?" Hound glanced up.

"Very much so," the medic nodded and took the empty cube. "Now rest, both of you. You aren't leaving until I'm sure you've _both_ recovered."

She continued her fierce gaze as Ratchet left, but slowly the corners of her mouth began to twitch into a smile. "We are a feisty bloodline, don't ever forget it, my love. You are stuck with me."

"I wish nothing else," he smiled and stroked her body gently. "I knew you were right for us when I saw you. Every moment has only proven my instincts all the more right." He lay down and began to cycle his systems down, including turning on the medical override to prevent him from moving should Mirage be captured and spark-tortured again. "Come rest, my lovely, fiery latina. Your heat is good for my spark, and his, no matter how far away he might be."

* * *

Alicia was too used to the tension that had haunted Hound's frame since Mirage had left, and the fear that continued to linger there in the days since they'd been released from medbay. She was beyond grateful when Ratchet agreed their her field work was close enough and they could go back out. It had helped Hound greatly to be back in his element, doing what he loved. He was still hurting and afraid, but he was starting to act normal and during their sharing he was warm, strong and welcoming.

Late in the afternoon, after yet another day spent capturing, examining and tagging (they had moved on to the reptilian life in the wetlands), Alicia found herself splayed out naked on Hound's chassis after a particularly sensuous, slow and relaxed sharing.

~I don't want to bring up something terrible, and you do not need to tell me if it is too difficult. I know whatever torture was happening was horrible, but I don't want to be protected. If I'm going to help, I feel that I need to know.~

Hound shuddered, but he nodded. ~I only got the highlights, the points where he couldn't protect me anymore. When I felt it the first time, he was being spark-raped. Someone was forcing their spark-energy into his spark until both overloaded. It's ... without desire, without the spark reaching for the other, everything that would be pleasurable about it is pain like nothing else.~

Alicia remembered the intense pleasure and beauty of being connected to her lovers when they merged, and tensed as the slightest hint of what horror and agony that must have been leaked across the connection before Hound quickly protected her from the sensation. Her own mind could not help returning to haunted memories of her own experience with rape when she had been in college. While violating, her experience had not been particularly violent or painful beyond the mental anguish ... and that alone had taken years to truly recover from.

~How does one heal from something like that, Hound? It makes human rape look like play.~

~For Mirage, he does what he does with all mission memories,~ he said sadly. ~He'll write a report that covers the events, as dry and factual as possible, and delete the entire mission, from when he walked into the briefing to when he wakes up in medbay. It's what they do, how they keep themselves sane and their secrets secret, even from a bonded.~

Climbing up to kiss and caress his face, Alicia responded. ~There is something to be said for that, though I get the feeling you won't be doing the same thing.~

~I don't have the upgrades to do so,~ he murmured, reaching up to stroke her. ~As illegal as they are, SpecOps run with their own rules. I'm sure half of Mirage's mods are worth brig time if they're officially reported, never mind what I'm sure Jazz has for equipment.~

She nodded in understanding and traced around his strong features with her fingers. ~So what else has happened to him?~ she asked gently.

~That I know less about,~ he said, and couldn't hold back the fact he was grateful for it. ~Spark attacks are the only thing he can't block. I know he was beaten, electro-whipped ... professional torturers are well-respected in the Con ranks. They're very good at their job, though they've never broken him. Starved, prevented from recharging and kept just repaired enough to keep the cycle going.~

Somewhere along the description, it sank into Alicia's awareness that he was speaking more from what he'd experienced than what he knew from Mirage.

Her eyes met his ancient optics with understanding. ~It's happened to you as well. All of it? Including the rape?~

~Not to the extent he's facing, and I wasn't raped. I'm not a high-value prisoner even now, much less the last time they captured me. I'm not that attractive either, not compared with those who were in the cells with me.~

~But you had to be there and know what was happening to those you cared about. Oh Hound,~ her tiny mouth kissed his great one, trying in a simple, physical way to ease some of the weight of his memories.

~Yes, I was,~ he murmured across the connection and rested his hand over her body, shielding her from the rest of the world with his living metal. ~For three I was able to give friends and lovers a little closure in knowing what happened to them, instead of just wondering if they were prisoners or dead. It was something, and I focused on that, on getting out so their fates would be known.~

She kissed him again, sucking and gently biting on his much larger silky metallic lips. ~So very strong, my lover. I can't imagine you ever giving in to despair as long as the smallest hope remained. Did you escape, or were you rescued?~

~Rescued, by Jazz, Whiplash, Mirage, Silver Shadow and Starjumper,~ he included mental images of each.

More than a bit to her surprise, she realized she was fairly sure she'd seen or heard of them all on Earth.

~Yes, all of them have survived,~ he smiled gently and caressed her back. ~Though I know that the rescue was because Prime's SIC at the time was in that prison with us.~

~Before or after you and Mirage were bonded?~

~Well before,~ Hound continued to stroke her back, his mind relaxing into the ancient memories that were overall pleasant despite the war. ~We had met, my socket at the time liked him well enough to seek him out when I was captured, but we had not been intimate yet, much less bonded.~

Along with the words came memories of a lively reptilian creature a good six feet long that changed colors, that it was female. Even her name, Ragurll.

Alicia's insatiable curiosity kindled at the image. She also sensed how the pleasant memories were such a good place for Hound to dwell during the uncertainty of the present.

~Will you show me more? Of how you and Mirage came to be together? Or some of your other sockets or the worlds you've been to?~ She laughed outloud at her eagerness.

~Of course,~ he caressed her mind with a warm smile. ~It was relatively early in the war, only a few metacycles - perhaps thirty years - after the Decepticons destroyed the Towers where most Nobles lived. As I had a socket and we were willing to share with any who needed it, Med Star, Prime's CMO at the time, would often send us to offer a charge to those in need.

~It wasn't long before Med Star asked us to visit one of the new recruits. So I knocked on his door when he was off duty. I knew I was going to visit a noble, a survivor of the Towers attack. I'd dealt with them before the war, providing turbofoxes and other game, or leading the trackers on one of their great hunts. So I knew better than to stare, but Primus it was hard not to. He was so pretty back then, and far, far more submissive and uneasy around anyone.~

Hound shared the image of his first view of Mirage and the subsequent sharing with the reptilian named Sikee, whom Alicia could clearly see through Hound's memories that she would have liked and been close to if they had lived at the same time. She watched the sensuous sharing, followed by Mirage's overload thanks to Hound's assistance, and the subsequent awkward and formal conversation.

~I take it you and Sikee came back?~

~Yes,~ Hound smiled fondly at the memory of such a different Mirage, and contrasted him with the current one for her. ~I knew I wanted to be his friend. I knew I _needed_ to be his friend if he was going to survive adapting to the army. Jazz does his best to take care of his agents, but Mirage wasn't something he really understood. Not that I did much better, but I had more time and fewer duties, and a better personality for it. My nature was one reason Jazz tolerated me in the SpecOps bunker as much as he did.~

~I can imagine you having just the right temperament for that, love,~ she commented as she moved to caressing and kissing the cables along his neck, the shared memories slowly rekindling her desire. ~And how did you come to be lovers and bondmates?~

~With a great deal a patience, persistence and accepting smiles,~ Hound's processors drifted over memories of long vorns of careful care and gradually more familiar touches. ~Then there was a bad mission, he was gone for nearly three vorn. When he returned and was released from medbay, Jazz sent me with my socket, one of Sikee's descendants, to give him a desperately needed charge. I was more than a little surprised when he pulled me to his berth without a word.~

~Mmm ... I bet you were! Had he changed a lot by then? Become more like he is today?~ The pleasure of that memory continued to stoke her relaxed desire as she caressed his neck cabling with mouth and hands. The socket connection was such a lovely way to be able to communicate when her mouth was busy.

~Some, yes. He could hold his own against attacks, had enough field missions to be reasonably confident in his rank. He wasn't yet the mech I bonded to, but closer to him than he wasn't. What really surprised me was finding out he didn't have a spike or valve yet. I knew nobles weren't keen on them, even though they'd had sockets longer and more often than any other group, but he'd been an Autobot for a long time, and SpecOps at that. I expected he'd have been given the mod when Jazz got his servos on him.~

~So why didn't he? I didn't even realize it was a mod ... though I should have if I'd thought about it. Spikes and valves must have been created to mimic the reproductive parts of one of the socket species, I suppose?~ She realized at that moment that she had not played with either one of their valves, which was giving her all sorts of delicious ideas.

~He found the entire idea disgusting and unclean. Still does, if he thinks about it too much,~ Hound chuckled. ~Too organic to belong on a mech. I still knew how to overload him. It takes a bit more time and more skill, but it's a basic thing for most of us. Jazz let him avoid it because he's a spy, meant to remain unseen and unheard, rather than a more active role where it might be useful in completing the mission.~

Alicia decided to skip asking how a spike and a valve would be useful on a mission. Her imagination could provide her with the answer well enough, though she found herself grinning thinking of an Autobot version of 007 who regularly gained important information by sleeping with the enemy. Hounds amusement showed that he followed her every thought on the matter.

~We'll have to watch some of those movies together sometime, love. They are some of my favorites, especially the old ones with Sean Connery. So how did our fastidious lover finally consent to being installed with the proper parts for organic-style sex ... and come to think of it, just how common are those types of parts, anyhow? I would not have thought alien evolution would be that parallel.~

~I talked him into linking to me while I played with my parts,~ Hound snickered. ~He didn't rush out and get them installed, but he did it for the decaorn we were given off after we bonded. The valve-spike system is in most Autobots, maybe all of them at this point, I'm not sure. Alien evolution is parallel enough in any race that does sexual reproduction. Most will have some method to insert sex cells into the body of another to produce young. The same design that allows it to resize for a given lover will make enough changes to suit the lover as well.~ He included image-movies of some of the variants he'd had for various sockets. ~Not that every socket race does it that way, but enough do that it's practical. Besides, it's fun for us, organics involved or not.~

~Yes, lots of fun~ She gave Hound a wicked smile, making her way down toward his interface panel, still open from their previous activities. ~Why don't you show me something from when you bonded with our noble lover while I remind myself just how much fun these particular parts are?~

Hound shivered, that particular set of memories sending a charge to all the right sensors.

~He was trembling when I laid him on _our_ berth for the first time. He'd never even examined his new upgrades, though he had the software to understand their use and function. So I rested on my side, against his, and stroked his chest seam to calm him down. When his engine finally settled, I asked him to open his interface panel. Then I talked him through self-pleasuring his spike, then his valve." He included not just the images from his memory, but the intense little sounds Mirage made as well.

Alicia shivered at vivid images and sounds Hound fed to her, far more _real_ in appearance that her own memories. Feeling bold, she moved first to Hound's valve, sized for Mirage's spike, and traced its entrance with her fingers and then pushed her hand all the way in, finding the nodes hidden within the pearlescent lubrication by the bursts of pleasure she could feel from Hound.

~Tell me more, love.~

Hound clenched his valve around her hand, though it didn't shrink, and he moaned as she wiggled her fingers against the sensitive walls.

~When he lay there, panting from two overloads he'd given himself, he looked at me and reached out to run his fingers over my panel. When I opened it, he circled my spike housing with a finger, then played over the tip of my spike. His voice,~ Hound shuddered more at the memory than what Alicia was doing. ~Fully of sultry, cultured desire, told me to let it go, that he wanted to feel what stroking his betrothed felt like.~ Hound tried to find the words for what that word, being called _betrothed_ did to him, but soon gave up and simply shared the spark-swelling giddiness and desire to have won over his lover so much.

Alicia smiled at the words and the emotions shared, her own body swiftly becoming caught in both the story and the feelings Hound poured through their connection. Keeping her hand at his valve, she moved to lick his spike, still sized for her, swirling her tongue around the tip.

The moaning whine she earned, then a full on groan a moment later, was more than enough encouragement. The emotions and sensations only made it better.

Then Hound continued his story.

~He stroked me, letting me guide him at first, but never, ever let that mech tell you he's not a quick study. He kept me distracted with his hands, he slipped between my legs. I felt him press into my valve and almost lost it right there. He felt so perfect, his self-repair systems ensuring that his spike was as finely constructed as the rest of him.~

Alicia let the sensations and noises guide her mouth to find each cluster of nodes on his broad spike and to lick and suck and run her teeth along them, an immediate jolt of pleasure running straight from her socket to her wet sex each time.

She let him know without words that she looked forward to watching Hound work that elegant spike when their lover returned.

~I want to show you everything we've done to each other, show you every trick that makes him moan and sigh in pleasure,~ Hound shuddered in anticipation. ~There is so much to show you, so much pleasure to give him.~

Alicia continued her relentless teasing of the scout's thick spike, bringing her very lubricated hand from his valve to squeeze and rub the base while she worked the tip with her mouth.

~And I want you to show. I want to see the first time you joined sparks. I want you to show me every way to pleasure him ... and every way to pleasure you.~

She felt Hound begin to form a response, only to be distracted by a comm ping. Even not privy to the contents, she felt a huge spike of _relief-excitement-fear_ and was sure it was about Mirage.

~Dress, lovely. If we get back in a breem, we can be there when Skyfire brings him in, before he's isolated in medbay again.~

Alicia almost jumped off of Hound, disconnecting and running into her tent for clothes, grabbing her hair brush and realizing how ridiculous it was that she was brushing out her hair for Mirage, who was sure to be in horrible shape, but she just couldn't help herself. She wanted to look good for him. "Dios mio," she muttered as ran, elated and terrified at once. He was alive. He was back. She jumped back into Hound's offered hand as he ran toward the nearest road.

"Gracias mama Maria," she said, tears in her eyes.

Hound put her down on the road so he could transform. "Yes, and thank Primus," he added, relief coloring his voice almost as much as it did hers. As soon as she was on board, he tore town the road that ran around the entire island.

Alicia's freshly brushed hair started whipping around wildly as Hound drove at a ridiculously high speed back toward the inhabited part of island. She tried to hold it down and brush it again, and then gave up, laughing hysterically at the teenage girl who seemed to have taken over her psyche since the moment that ping had come.

"Did they say anything about his condition, love?" she called over the wind.

"No, but I doubt it's good," he told her grimly. "They put him in stasis for the flight."

She dropped her brush to the floor, the true magnitude of Mirage's return hitting her. "Does that mean they still aren't sure he will survive, love?" she asked quietly, knowing he would hear her.

"No, Ratchet isn't sure," he responded honestly. "He doesn't think he'll die, but he's not sure he'll survive."

"Mama Guadalupe hasn't gotten him this far just to let that happen. She knows she'd have to answer to me." She caressed Hound's seat comfortingly.

"He's survived worse," Hound added. "I've seen him come home nearly bled out, next to no armor, chunks of protoform missing and a spark that's barely there. It took nearly ten vorns and a few things I don't like to think about to recover fully from that, but he did. He doesn't give up easily."

"Ten vorns ... that is 830 years? My God!" Alicia was stunned. 830 years was the low end of her new extended lifespan, which was fast becoming far too short in her psyche.

"Yes," he said. "He was up out of medbay in a few months, off light duty in fifteen years, but to _recover_ took a lot longer."

"There is a lot more to recovery than physical repair and healing, I can only imagine." Alicia looked at her hand and realized it was shaking. Elation and dread were having a tug of war in the pit of her stomach as they approached the runway where Skyfire could be seen making his approach to land.

"Yes, there is, especially when you see, do and survive what mechs like Mirage and Jazz face on every mission," Hound signed. "I'm looking forward to the end of the war so he never has to be a spy again more than the end of the fighting. Watching what he's done to himself to survive and raise in the ranks has been painful. Just be ready, we won't be able to talk to him, you won't be allowed to touch. But we can see him for a moment before Ratchet takes him to isolation."

Alicia got out and Hound transformed, quickly picked her up and placed her on his shoulder. She was going through every calming exercise she knew.

"Would it be ok ... ok to plug in, love?" She suddenly couldn't bear to feel alone her head.

She felt the welcome calming presence of Hound in her mind in response as the cable locked in place. ~I'll tell you what I can of how bad he is relative to what I've seen before, but I know it's going to be bad.~ He both warned and reassured her as they watched the huge white Cybertronian shuttle come in for a landing and stop far faster than anything from Earth would dare to try.

~Thank you~ her mind whispered. ~I'm here for you, too, love.~ She wrapped herself in the blanket of his calm, amazed that he was able to achieve that much serenity.

~He's alive, he's home. If what they did couldn't break him and kill him, he'll recover. It's just a matter of how long it takes,~ Hound explained and walked up with a determined expression, causing the pair lithe but strong femmes ready to escort Mirage to medbay to step aside. ~Silver one's Silver Star. Black and silver one's Starjumper. Among Jazz's best.~

Skyfire's bay door lowered and they got their first look at Mirage. He'd been torn down nearly to his dark grey protoform and it was damaged. The glow of his blue-white spark was visible, protected only by it's case, and his optics were off.

**"You have until we get to medbay,"** Jazz said with an unusual coldness in his voice as he and Ratchet guided the hover-stretcher, the two femmes moving as guard when Hound fell in next to his bonded's hand.

Alicia had eyes only for Mirage's beautiful frame, so damaged and abused she could hardly fathom it. She kept staring at his spark, his soul that had been violated repeatedly and promised again to Primus or God or La Virgin or whoever else was listening (mostly Hound) that she would care for it and nourish it with every ounce of her.

~He will need it as soon as he's coherent enough to give the report and clear his memories. Which is not something we're supposed to know they do,~ Hound added as he ghosted a hand along a relatively undamaged bit of protoform, then over the spark his was bonded to.

She felt him focus on the still-closed bond and force a sense of love, calm and safety there.

~He'll have it, as much and as often as he needs it.~ She followed Hounds lead. Though she wasn't claimed yet, she could still focus on sending her own love through Hound's bond.

~Thank you,~ Hound's mind ghosted across the connection before they fell silent and simply escorted him to the medbay entrance where Hound obediently stopped to allow the others to continue inside.

**"I'll ping you the moment you can see him,"** Ratchet promised over his shoulder. **"And when you can move into the adjoining room."**

**"Thank you,"** Hound inclined his head, his optics following his bonded's broken form until it was long out of view.

Alicia watched with him, and than put her arms as far around his broad neck as she could, holding him with her small form. She didn't say or think a word, just being with him in his mind and body.

~Let's go back to work until Ratchet let's us close,~ Hound said quietly.


	24. Hunting Pleasure 9: Which Way is Up?

**Fandom:** Transformers Bayverse (POV'verse)  
**Author:** femme4jack, gatekat on LJ  
**Pairing:** Jazz/Prowl/Miles Lancaster  
**Rating:** NC-17 for mech/mech/male  
**Warnings:** Slash, Xeno (Transformer/Human)  
**Description:** This is the 'must fuck ones socket many times a day' stage for them. In other words, this chapter is mostly porn.  
**Notes:** Written in the Point of View fanverse (community .livejournal .com/tf_matrix)  
**"text"** translated Cybertronian.

* * *

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Hunting Pleasure 9: Which Way is Up?

* * *

A young blond human walked around the rec room, humming, with a goofy, dreamy sort of grin on his face, moving things here and there and straightening up. To any other human, his every movement and expression said: this kid's in love, and is getting laid. A lot. To any Cybertronian who entered the room, the youth's energy signature practically shouted: this is a highly desirable socket with impressive energy readings that clearly resonate with two of the most powerful and important mechs on base, Prowl and Jazz. That, and the blond's pheromones and physical readings all indicated the exact same thing that his body language would to other humans - sappy, silly, well laid human alert. In other words, for Cybertronians and humans who knew what to look for, there was no doubt that the youth was a newly claimed socket, happily enjoying the very well known "must fuck socket many times a day" phase (or the honeymoon as Sam had referred to it).

Honestly, the youth thought, he had lost count. He even had lost count of the number of times he had passed out. And the time on the normally stoic Prowl's desk when he had simply gone in to ask a question has surprised the shit out of him, even though he wasn't complaining. Prowl and Jazz seemed to have been taking an unusually large amount of free time, and other than the orientations, classes, and other social events, Miles had been temporarily released from his duties, and Sam and Leo (God help them all) had even stepped in to cover some of those. When he asked Jazz how long he could expect to be such a well sexed slacker, the mech had given him a wicked grin and said, "as long as it takes ta get ta know ya." Yeah ... well ... Miles was pretty sure there wasn't a part of his body, inside or out, that the two of them didn't know intimately by now. Really, the brain damage thing was a very real concern, not that he would complain.

Bluestreak was just walking off when he saw Jazz walk in, and waved cheerfully at the silver mech, who waved back and grinned.

**"Having fun with Cathy?"** Jazz all but purred.

Sensor wings instantly snapped up, then quivered in embarrassment, and Jazz grinned wider. **"Oh come on, you can't be doing anything I'm not with Miles,"** he waved in his socket's general direction.

**"No probably not but I really have to go make sure she's okay she's been really worn out and oh I didn't mean to say that!"**

Jazz didn't hold back the howl of laughter that shook his frame as the sniper rushed off.

Miles watched the encounter with the huge cheesy grin that appeared on his face every time he saw or thought about Prowl and Jazz since they had claimed him, and had his normal pavlovian response to the silver mech's presence. See Jazz ... get hard. Hear Prowl's voice...get hard. Think about either one...get hard. It was pretty much instantaneous. He halfway thought the two mechs were engaging in some sort of classical conditioning with him.

"Hey sexy. What were you tormenting poor Blue about?"

"Oh, just if he was having fun with Cathy," Jazz grinned and scooped him up. "Up for distracting Prowl from his work for a bit before I have to leave base?"

Miles snickered. "He is just so shy about it, it's absolutely adorable. He and I never would have worked. My sex addicted personality would have completely freaked him out. And absolutely on the distraction. You leaving tonight or tomorrow? I'm not sure you said."

"In four and a half hours. With any kind of luck, I'll join you in Costa Rica in a few days," Jazz smiled a little unhappily and walked out with Miles on his shoulder. "The timing sucks big time, but with Shimmer preggers, it really can't wait anymore."

"You'll be back soon enough, and Prowl can distract me in Costa Rica for a couple days while you are gone. He promised me that I'd get to play with his holoform. Will Shimmer need a socket as well? To sustain her spark while she carries?"

"Yes, though she's fighting the idea," Jazz shook his head in bemusement. ~Prowler, I better get a _full_ report on Costa Rica.~

~As if I wouldn't let you know every detail,~ Prowl nearly chuckled across their bond. ~You're coming over?~

~Is that a hopeful note in your mind?~ Jazz laughed eagerly.

~No,~ Prowl tightened his control until he felt how amused Jazz was about his efforts.

~We'll be there in a klik.~

"Will she share one with the terror twins, or have one of her own? I think she'd better have a woman, to be honest, the way she reacted when I rode Sides."

"Share with them, at least at first," Jazz told him. "And it is a woman they're getting. Most of the arrangements are made. The last part has to be in person to make sure she's the one I picked out and they kept up their end of the deal."

Miles sighed, still uncomfortable with the whole idea, even though he was the one who had argued for using this as an opportunity to rescue someone from the hell of human trafficking. He had done a report on it when he was a senior - it had been a rude wake up call to him to the realities that kids his own age were facing, and it had awakened him from slackerhood in a rather profound way that still surprised him and had finally earned him Mikaela's respect.

"Will she have choice, like the rest of us, Jazz man? If this isn't what she wants?"

"Yes, she has a choice," Jazz looked at the human riding on his shoulder seriously. "Prime will accept no less. I doubt he grasps how little she'll comprehend that saying 'no' won't be a mistake, but I'll do my best to explain."

"It's just so fucking complicated when I try to wrap my head around the ethics of the whole thing, and what I should be focusing on is the fact that what she is coming to is so much better than what she is leaving, but then I think of Veronica and I get all pissed off about it again."

"Your sister is from a completely different situation, even if she was captured by traffickers," Jazz pointed out softly, palming the command building door open. "She was brought up with the ideas of equal rights and free choice. The girls I buy don't come from a culture that taught them they were anything more than property."

"I know dude, but there are many girls from cultures like that who ultimately do escape and get and education and _do_ learn to see themselves as something of value. Cultural conditioning isn't everything, man. Don't get me wrong, I see why this needs to happen, but everyone deserves a choice to become more than what they were brought up to be."

"Preaching to the choir, dude," Jazz pointed out. "It's a timing issue, and a Prime mindset issue. He's too used to mechs who can rewrite their code, or have it rewritten, and change most of what they are like in a few days. He hasn't been _close_ to an organic since just after the war began, when he lost his first. It's not like anyone will treat them badly or hinder them being educated or expressing themselves."

"I think I get it. Prime will expect her to understand she has a choice the way Veronica would in the same situation, but Veronica has had a whole lifetime of being conditioned to having choice. And I know ... they'll have more opportunities to learn stuff here than anywhere on earth. It's just a lot to get my head around."

Miles fanned an affectionate hand across his plating.

"You blow my mind in more than one way, dude."

"Thank you," Jazz grinned and winked his visor as they entered the lift headed down. In this bit of relative privacy, a connector cable snaked up to brush against Miles' socket, silently asking permission to connect while other cables worked their way out of Jazz's shoulder and neck to caress him.

Miles moaned ... the pavlovian response that had disappeared for a few minutes while he'd been being all deep and ethical had risen right back up again, fully at attention. He leaned in for a sensuous kiss on the silver mouth and decided to try the infant bond and silently give permission to connect and remove as much clothing as they could get away with before getting to Prowl's office

Jazz revved his engine in approval, and then he was brushing against Miles' mind through the cable connection. His cables snaked and rubbed against him, removing his shirt first, then shoes, socks and pants. All while Jazz rubbed his cock lightly through the fabric with a slender finger.

Miles was really on his way to a serious tentacle fetish with those cables snaking around him, making such quick work out of silly things like clothes. He eagerly thrust in to the rubbing finger while pulling himself in for a deep kiss, exploring the saboteur's smooth, silky lips and glossa with his tongue.

~You like carrying naked boys through the corridor to present to your bonded?~

~Ya aren't _quite_ naked yet,~ Jazz teased around the moans and pleasure coursing through his systems. ~But oh yeah, I like it very much. If we don't hurry, he'll meet us in the corridor.~

~Now _that_ I'd like to see.~

Miles wondered how far the infant bond his ... what did Prowl call them ... quantum strings allowed. He tried thinking all sorts of kinky thoughts at Prowl, though the TIC was most likely to feel it through his hardline connection to Jazz than anything else. But it was fun to try. His musings were interrupted by a clawed finger reaching underneath the waist band of his boxers to touch is hard, throbbing flesh.

~So...~ he tried to think in between moans and gasps, ~is privacy mostly a human hang up, cause exhibitionism isn't bothering me at all?~

~Mostly human, though we have _some_ level of it in some groups,~ Jazz snickered and continued to stroke and tease his socket when he walked out of the lift. True to expectations, most of the mechs barely glanced, or just gave them a nod and smile. A few did a double-take, but when their gaze landed on Jazz, they moved on without a word.

~It just feels silly to be worried about privacy when those sexy little nanites you guys keep filling with me up with are making my energy signature, biochemistry and whatever else proclaim to the entire world what I've been up to lately.~

~True,~ Jazz rumbled, enjoying the energy.

Miles felt a spike of surprise, then Jazz wave waving at somebody down the hall.

**"Sunny, Sides, just who I was looking for,"** Jazz called out to them.

Miles eyes got wide for a moment, and then he giggled...in a manly way (who was he kidding). ~So ... this is gonna be a little interesting, dude. I'm just gonna keep my mouth shut. It gets me into trouble with those two.~

~Good idea,~ Jazz agreed as the pair turned towards him.

A low growl emitted from the golden twin. Noticing that Miles was on the mech's shoulder, not to mention in indecent form for a human, he took to speaking in Cybertronian. Indeed, he was still irritated. **"Don't call me Sunny."**

**"Right,"** Jazz snickered, still plainly working Miles closer to orgasm.

**"Whacha need?"** Sideswipe asked, trying not to stare at Miles, trying not to remember the pleasure of a socket flooding his spark with energy.

**"I know it's killer short notice, but that girl I told you about? I'm picking her up in the next couple days if all goes well,"** Jazz explained.

Miles shuddered as Jazz's cables continued to stroke his body in all the right places. He bit his lip, trying not to moan outloud as a particularly silky feeling one snuck into the front of his boxers and wrapped around his cock. A tiny part of his mind was totally shocked by Jazz's antics, while the rest of it was reveling in the hot feeling of being totally under the silver mech's control, completely exposed.

Sunstreaker nudged a couple of fingers against Sideswipe's elbow joint, shielding himself slightly from the memories he didn't want to recall. He'd brought his brother a socket that day, yes, but every time he got pissed and acted on impulse, he still felt that, in some way, he disappointed the silver mech, and he hated reliving it.

**"And you neglected to use the comm link in the stead of this why?"** the golden bladewarrior demanded, finally turning his optics onto Jazz again after refusing to look at all. His mouth plates curled in a slight look of disgust.

**"Because I saw ya,"** Jazz shrugged. **"I would have commed ya otherwise."**

**"Okay, so it's the one you showed us, right?"** Sideswipe said, even as he sent waves of reassurance to his brother.

Miles was at the point of not really even noticing anyone was in the corridor any longer. Sunstreaker's icy glare might as well have been a painting of the Mona Lisa for all he cared, because Jazz had chosen that moment to slip another cable under his boxers and into his ass. This time he did cry outloud.

~I am going to come in front of these dudes, you realize that? I am so going to get you back for this.~

Reassurance could only do so much. Sunstreaker was a private mech, one who had a short temper and a tendency for violence. He knew that if he blew a fuse in front of Jazz, he could end up serving brig time, and with Shimmerfire carrying, he'd been trying to be careful about that. When he heard the human cry, he scoffed in distaste and swiveled on his pedes, immediately heading in the opposite direction despite how that was completely away from where the twins had been heading.

~Sideswipe,~ he lengthened the syllables in his name in warning.

~Coming,~ his brother responded immediately. **"Thanks for the heads up. We're moving to Shimmerfire's quarters."**

**"Good,"** Jazz nodded, then opened a private comm. ::He going to be okay?::

::Yeah, just between Shimmer, sockets, _that_, he's a bit stressed,:: Sideswipe explained before darting after his brother.

Miles only whimpered. If he had been coherent, he might have felt guilty for once again provoking Sunstreaker. As it was, he really could only think ~morefastharderfuck~

The spike of _excitement-amusement_ from Jazz tried to drag his attention into the real world again, but what managed it was the abrupt movement when Jazz was grabbed and his back slammed against the wall. While Jazz's cables kept him in place, the abrupt appearance of Prowl, his optics nearly white with desire as he demanded a kiss from his bonded and pressed Jazz against the wall with his entire frame was a rush of another kind.

Miles groaned, a tsunami of desire flooding him though the connection as Prowl held Jazz against the wall, the small silver mech's feet dangling five feet above the ground as the white tactician kissed his bonded with a bruising intensity. Jazz's cables were holding Miles so tight he couldn't move. A squeeze from the one on his cock and a thrust from the one up his ass, and Miles was done for, his first climax taking him right there, in the hallway, for anyone to see.

Jazz gasped at the charge, shuddering in Prowl's grip as he shifted to bring his legs up, wrapping them around Prowl's slender hips as his arms wrapped around Prowl's neck and rubbed their interface panels together.

Even as he recovered a bit, Miles realized that Prowl had joined in the link and a tsunami of a different kind crashed into him. One that was born of frustration, need, worry and constant teasing.

~I take he made you wait too long?~ Miles asked Prowl shakily just before his small body was blown away by another blast of emotions and desire from the bonded pair. He didn't really expect a response, the two seemed well beyond words, and the storm of sensations that raged in him didn't really allow for concern about where they were physically located or who might see. Miles whimpered at the intensity.

Brain damage never felt so good.

Jazz keened. Prowl growled. Miles felt a thick spike invade a tight valve and Jazz's entire frame shook with each thrust Prowl made as the pleasure spiraled out of control again.

Prowls demanding, almost brutal thrusts would surely have sent Miles flying if he had not still been pinned to Jazz's shoulder by a mass of cables that had begun sending him tingling jolts in the same desperate rhythm. And it wasn't like it was even necessary with the wildly growing ecstasy that was relentlessly fed to him from both of his lovers through the socket connection. The sound of sliding metal and crashing thuds each time the silver mech's frame was pushed into the wall joined the growls, keens and wordless cries of pleasure from the three.

How Miles could become so hard again, so close to climax but a few moments after his first could only have been a function of the nanites that were coursing through his blood and embedded in each of his cells.

He was _so_ not going to complain.

Jazz lost his control first, crushing his mouth against Prowl's as he clawed at his bonded's back in an effort to meld their frames together as he overloaded.

Miles only had a moment to register it, and that he was about to come, when Prowl grunted, thrust once more and roared his ecstasy. His joints locked, supporting all three of them as he poured his pleasure across bond and connection and his transfluid deep into Jazz's body.

As Miles slowly came to awareness, he became aware of several things. First of all, they were surrounded, at a somewhat respectful distance, by a rather large group of wide-eyed military and civilian personnel and Autobots. Of the later, most were laughing and cheering. Standing just beyond the group was Optimus Prime himself, whom Miles had never actually met in person, though had seen from afar. The gigantic mech was standing with his hands on his hips, observing the spectacle with an expression that Miles was quite certain was amusement.

"Is this the manner in which I should come to expect my TIC to finally let me know that he needs some much deserved time off? Jazz I would expect this of, but you, Prowl? Is this new socket doing something to your processors that Ratchet should be made aware of?"

Howls of laughter from the rest of the assembled Autobots let Miles know that Optimus Prime was very amused indeed.

He felt, first hand, what he'd heard of many times; a processor lock.

**"Hay, focus, babe,"** Jazz shifted and clinked his vocalizer sharply as he tapped Prowl's helm chevron with a claw and squirmed to get his pedes on the ground.

Prowl shook his head sharply, his processors actually clearing and focusing from it before he forcefully gathered his wits, unhooked from Miles and turned to face his Prime with as much dignity as he could muster. Even with his interface cover in place, there was no denying what he had just done.

"My apologies, Prime," Prowl managed, somehow, to sound completely normal. "I have not completely adapted to shielding myself from the combined effects of my bonded and socket attempting to rouse my interest. It will not happen again," he shot a quick look at Jazz that warned of misery to pay if it did.

Jazz damn near lost it, something Miles was privy to over the connection but didn't show as much more than a quirk of the silver mech's lip components.

Miles bit his lips, trying for Prowl's sake not to laugh. His face must have looked contorted, because suddenly those intense blue optics were focused right on him.

"My SIC and TIC have obviously chosen well, Miles Lancaster, if you are able to team up with Jazz this effectively in getting my Tactician out of his office," Optimus said graciously.

"Thank you, sir," the blond human managed to squeak out, suddenly all too aware of his near complete (or was it complete?) nudity. Looking down, he saw that sometime during the whole affair his boxers had been torn to shreds. He felt himself turning bright red, suddenly embarrassed both by that and the attention being paid to him.

"Everyone back to your posts, and may I suggest the three of you return to your office, Prowl, and find your human some clothing. _The little dude_ is becoming embarrassed."

With that, Prime turned to leave, but Miles could have sworn he saw an optic open and close at him in a wink.

Across their connection, Jazz was having an absolute meltdown trying to keep his amusement contained.

"Of course, Prime," Prowl responded blandly before reaching behind him grab Jazz's arm and pull the smaller mech towards his office.

Much to Miles relief, he soon found himself shut away from staring optics and eyes in Prowl's domain. He waited with bated breath to see what the tactician's response would be to the two of them, though her certainly could make a case that his pavlovian responses and Jazz's cables hadn't allowed him much choice in the whole matter. However, he knew better. If at any point Miles had asked for privacy or a quick escape, he _knew_ Jazz would have given it to him. He hadn't asked. And it had been _his_ idea to get undressed in the lift. The only thing he had been unaware of was just _how_ much it would affect Prowl.

"Umm ... so ... yeah," was all he could manage to say.

~Relax, he's not angry,~ Jazz brushed against his mind soothingly. ~Embarrassed, but not angry.~

Prowl turned to face them, his optics slightly narrowed. "Do not do that again. Understood?"

"Yeah, babe," Jazz kept his tone soothing as he stepped close and ghosted his fingers across Prowl's chest, only to have them caught in strong hands.

"Good," Prowl rumbled deep in his chassis and pulled his bonded against him for another hot, demanding kiss as he connected to Jazz's cable once more. ~I'd rather not spend your last few joor on base lecturing you.~

With a confidence Miles had learned over the past several days, he joined in freely, knowing it was welcome, stroking and squeezing Jazz's sensory fins with just the right amount of pressure to cause the silver mech to moan and send the pleasure back to him. As much as Miles saw it as a learning tool, he had learned that Jazz saw it as just normal. Jazz and Prowl did even after all their vorns together, long after they'd mapped each other's very souls as well as their bodies.

The first few times following the claiming and merge, Miles had mentally fought with the human notion of being a third wheel or somehow in the way, but the two mechs had made certain he knew that he was not only welcome and a part of them, he was _expected_ to join in as much as he desired to do so. If there ever was a time that he wasn't, and Jazz had added that there would be, it would be made completely clear to him up front. He did not need to play guessing games like he might with human lovers.

He felt the pair converse over their bond. It wasn't exactly to exclude him, though it frequently had that affect. It was less than a heartbeat later that Jazz pressed Prowl back, against the wall of his office, and used his fingers to coax the white interface panel open while they kissed and knelt to bring their chassis more on level.

Then Prowl, who had been compressed so as to kiss his bonded, responded to another unspoken urge over the bond, stretching out his kneeling frame, giving the kneeling Jazz access to his broad spike and dripping valve. Miles watched eagerly as the silver mech licked from base to tip before taking it fully into his mouth. The young human eagerly, already gasping at the shared sensation, sent to both of his lovers his desire to be an _active_ participant with the prospect of soon saying goodbye to Jazz, along with a strong sense that they decide what that participation be, feeding his enjoyment of being ordered and instructed by the experienced mechs in how to coax the fullest pleasure from all three.

Two lightning-fast processors and a bond that could transmit even faster sorted out ideas before Jazz offered up an image of Prowl on his chest on the desk, Miles laying on his back playing with sensor wings while Jazz took Prowl's valve and they both played with their socket with cables of all types.

Miles gave a devilish grin at this particular new scenario, and then continued his efforts with Jazz's sensory fins until they were ready. Prowl's moans and the surges of pleasure across the connection were almost, but not quite enough to distract him from the wicked things his own his own tongue was doing.

~Love that tongue of yours,~ Jazz rumbled to Miles as he braced Prowl's hips, easily able to tell how close the larger mech was. ~And all the sexy ideas you like to explore. Love that he wants you badly enough to take me in the hall,~ Jazz added with a shiver of remembered heat.

~Want your hands on my wings,~ Prowl gasped across the connection to Miles, his overload only a few sparkbeats away as he reached down to caress Jazz's helm and sensor-horns without disrupting Miles.

~There isn't a part of either one of you dudes that I don't want my hands on,~ he sent even as moaned with Prowl at the growing charge that Miles could feel throughout his own body building like a summer thunderstorm. Jazz's mouth was devastating to him, no matter who is was pleasuring.

He felt a flicker of smug pride from Jazz and utter agreement from Prowl before the tactician shuddered and gripped Jazz's helm tighter, his breath coming in ragged, powerful vents as his systems desperately tried to cool and control the heat and charge building inside him.

~Love the way you look like this,~ Jazz murmured throatily across the bond, making the effort to ensure Miles heard. ~Only time it's better is when you're trying to be silent,~ he added with mental images of the stoic mech with a fist in his mouth, trying desperately not to alert those within audio range just what his bonded was doing to him that they couldn't see.

~And I love the way you sound when you completely lose control, Prowl,~ Miles added, thinking about what had transpired in the corridor moments before, before he spontaneously scrambled down the silver mech and stood where he could just reach Prowl's valve with his mouth, finding a sensor node on its edge to probe with his tongue and suck. Miles legs trembled, barely holding him up as the emotional and physical blast of pure pleasure hit him through the socket.

He felt, more than heard, Prowl's sudden growl as the big mech shuddered under the surprise onslaught.

~So close,~ Jazz murmured across the connection. ~He's _so_ close.~

Miles could tell. The growing charge was literally making his hair stand on end. He wondered briefly if any organic had ever been electrocuted from mech overload and laughed inwardly at his wanton embrace of potential brain damage for the sake of ecstasy. He put all of his efforts into pleasuring the nodes he could find, knowing that most of them were deeper in Prowl's valve where he currently could not reach. He slipped in his fingers to push into other nodes, though it was hard to concentrate with the input from Jazz's relentless worship of Prowl's spike that suddenly felt as though it were on his own hard cock.

~I may come first ... GOD,~ Miles rod was spurting his creamy seed again for the third time that afternoon.

A hand was there to catch him, support him as he lost control of his body. Then the now-familiar rush of a spark gorging on his energy crashed into his orgasm, quickly followed by another, and the overloads of both mechs as they fed off each other's pleasure to amplify their own.

It was probably no surprise to any of them the 'the little dude' passed out, yet again.


	25. SSU 7:Carrying Seekers are Still Seekers

**Fandom:** Transformers Bayverse (POV'verse)  
**Author:** prophetbot, gatekat on LJ  
**Pairing:** Sunstreaker/Sideswipe/Shimmerfire  
**Rating:** NC-17 for mech/mech/femme  
**Codes:** Sticky, Het, Slash, Twincest, Sparklings  
**Summary:** With some wind under her wings and a much-improved mood, Shimmerfire shares an ill-kept secret with Sunstreaker and Sideswipe.  
**Notes:** Written in the Dathanna de Gray fanverse (community .livejournal .com/ tf_socket_fics)

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Sunny Side Up 7: Carrying Seekers are Still Seekers

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Sideswipe and Sunstreaker fidgeted as they watched Shimmerfire dart and swoop about the sky at full speed, pulling G's that made their sparks pound at the thought of the young lives, _their_ sparklings, facing such forces at such a young age. Despite that, neither could deny that she was in desperate need to stretch her wings and neither she nor Tread Bolt, who was shadowing her every move from a polite but protective distance, would intentionally do anything that might harm them.

~Sideswipe,~ Sunstreaker muttered through their bond with a tense nervousness, resisting the near intense urge to grab at his brother's arm every time she dove. His optics were playing illusions on him, showing him six other Seekers, small and not nearly as graceful, maybe even slipping and ramming themselves into one of the human structures. ~_Primus._~

~Hopefully she'll teach them to fly where that can't happen,~ Sideswipe gripped his brother's arm as she went into an insanely tight death spiral, the kind of move that would send the Twins leaping off for their life, only to pull out and rush over them at just under mach one.

Sunstreaker couldn't shift his optics from her flying form. It was frightening - with the thoughts of the Seekerlings going to be doing some of the same techniques she was performing - but alluring. ~But what if ours are clumsy? Or unobservant? Or, what if one has a glitch while flying and crashes?~ His engine revved, an irregular sound that made him sound as if he were in some sort of distress.

~We're going to have to trust her, and Pit take him, Tread Bolt, and the Aerials to keep them safe and train them how to fly well,~ Sideswipe slid behind his brother and wrapped his arms around the golden mech. ~When was the last _Seeker_ you know of that was anything but perfection in the sky?~

The golden twin grunted in response, shifting his optics slightly to glance over his shoulder at his brother. ~And what are you going to be teaching the Seekerlings, brother? How to perfect the art of the prankster?~ He was happy to change the subject and get those odd images out of his processor.

~How to kill on the ground,~ he rumbled with pride. ~How to fight and kill Seekers in a way they'll _never_ expect from another Seeker. If they have arm-blades, how to use them. How to fight with a bonded sibling, if they are. Things only _we_ know.~

~Mmhm, I'll help you with that,~ he agreed with emphasis on remembering their sweetest memories in battle. Sunstreaker craned his neck and pressed a kiss to his brother's mouth plates. ~Imagine if ours are bonded siblings. Do we even have more than one?~ He sounded genuinely curious, moving his optics to follow Shimmerfire once more.

~She might know. Ratchet might be able to tell,~ Sideswipe thought hesitantly. ~We could ask.~

~If it's even possible to tell, especially so early on.~ Sunstreaker was unsure. Once the Seekerlings were born, they could probably tell due to similarities, but before, he wasn't certain. Not with his lack of expertise, anyway. ~Let's ask 'Fire when she's done having her fun.~

~Sounds good. Even if she can't tell yet, she might later. I caught something about a carrier-bond in one of our merges,~ Sideswipe snuggled closer, watching her breathtaking maneuvers. ~She's got pretty good moves given she's never seen real combat or training.~

~It's probably natural for her,~ the golden mech pointed out. It was a fantastic sight to see Shimmerfire flying, as she should be, and especially since as she got heavier with her pregnancy, it would be more difficult to fly. ~That, and she might be showing off to her mates.~

~I'm sure she is,~ Sideswipe grinned and nuzzled his brother's neck. ~We do on the sparing field when she's watching.~

Sunstreaker switched their positions so that he could pull Sideswipe to have his brother lean against him, as well as have free reign to litter kisses on his lips. ~I'm not complaining.~

A sonic boom echoed across the island, though from high enough to be within regulations, another loop at her top speed, and she swung around to transform and land neatly on her pede-enclosed thrusters next to them.

"Mmm, I like where your processors are headed," she purred, ghosting her fingers down both their backs as her wings came forward in a shielding claim.

Sunstreaker chuckled, his baritone ending in a light, playful growl as he leaned forward to nip his brother's audio receptor. "I think we're already overheated from watching you show off your skills in the sky," he replied, smirking suggestively.

"Turnabout's fair play," she smirked right back, the trilling rumble of vocalizer and turbines mixed together in a message of 'mine' and 'want to 'face' as clearly as groping them. "Unless you want to play out here?" She urged them to head for their shared quarters.

The golden mech turned, dragging Sideswipe with him so that they ended up sandwiched together with his brother in the middle. "We could always make things more interesting and change up the scene a little bit." One of his eyebrow ridges arched in question.

~What do you have in mind?~ Sideswipe was genuinely interested, and nervous for good reason.

"You know I'm _always_ up for it," she grinned down at the pair.

~Patience, brother. Don't you want a little excitement?~ Sunstreaker kissed his brother's lips reassuringly, mischievous optics turning towards Shimmerfire. "There's always a little pleasure in doing something you know you're not supposed to. Aren't we supposed to be more conscious of privacy with so many humans around? Let's play somewhere open."

They both felt the shiver of her wings. "They do have far too much say in how things are run," she grinned, her ruby optics glittering in excitement.

Sideswipe rumbled his own excitement. "Where?"

"Mmm," he grated his agreement, "Prime wants to make the humans feel more comfortable about us being here." He shook his head a bit, but pushed Sideswipe up further against Shimmerfire's chassis. "The closer to the activity center of the base, the more of a chance we have at getting caught. Therefore, it's more fun. How close do you think you can get without getting nervous?" His optics flashed, almost as if to say, 'if you will at all.'

They felt Shimmerfire's wings flutter a bit more as she ran her hands down Sideswipe's chassis, her excitement flaring hot and fast. "Under Prime's office window?" she suggested throatily.

Sunstreaker's approval was apparent, anticipation shining brightly in his optics. "Yes, yes, yes," he mused, standing without a second thought, unable to contain himself even when he was shifting on his pedes and molested his brother while he greedily kissed Shimmerfire.

"You two are _crazy_," Sideswipe laughed even as he trembled in eagerness. "Think we can claim temporary insanity?"

"Haven't we already done that? Wait, maybe that was just me," Sunstreaker smirked as he pulled away from Shimmerfire's mouth and practically dragged the two of them behind him. Sadly enough, he knew where Optimus' office was all too well.

The eagerness of his lovers at the idea of 'facing right where the Prime could hear them made it all the sweeter. And right now Prowl would be distracted by Jazz and their new socket enough not to care if the Unmaker showed up.

As soon as they were near the building wall Sunstreaker shoved his brother to the ground. He was trying to be more gentle with Shimmerfire, out of the subconscious habit he was getting into now that she was carrying. "I really think it's Sides' turn to be tortured," he droned, heavily enjoying the fact that he wasn't even masking his pitch despite how they were directly under the Prime's office window. "He can get loud if you get him just right." Both of his optic ridges rose suggestively to his femme lover.

"Yes, he can," she grinned, catching the silver warrior's helm and tipping it back to kiss him. Without even thinking Sideswipe arched his chest up and spread his legs against his brother's weight and her demanding contact.

Sunstreaker immediately pressed his body against his brother's, slipping professional hands against every spot that he knew would make Sideswipe wriggle, squirm and whimper; begging for him, and now begging for Shimmerfire as well. He pulled one of the silver mech's hands to his mouth, slipping his glossa against the barely visible slit that sheathed his blade sets within.

Following his lead at the way Sideswipe nearly lost control of his vocalizer at the simple touch, Shimmerfire claimed one of his hands from Sunstreaker to tease the blade slits with her glossa while her free hand roamed his angular chest. A claw teased a circle around his headlight and Sideswipe shuddered uncontrollably.

~Frag it bro, _one_ of you spike me _now_.~

Sunstreaker chuckled in amusement, shifting a hand to rub against the plating covering his brother's heating interface panel. ~You can't wait, can you?~ he teased, sucking along the silver mech's knuckles while his own interface panel whisked open.

"What would you prefer, 'Fire, his valve or his mouth?" he all but purred, pulling the hand coaxing against his brother's interface panel to stroke heavy circles around his thighs.

"Valve," she rumbled, her wings vibrating in excitement at the sight of Sideswipe's panel sliding open and his spike pressuring rapidly. "He's so tight, so hot."

"Always is," he promised. Sunstreaker took his time, much to Sideswipe's frustration, and finally switched positions with the Seeker. He knelt by his brother's head, sliding his glossa along those sensitive helm extensions, both hands roaming down across the silver mech's chassis.

She wasn't nearly as patient, or teasing, and hilted herself with a single thrust, her hands tight on his hips to hold him against the power of her frame.

Through their bond, Sunstreaker felt what his brother couldn't articulate beyond the whimpering mews. The raw pleasure of being dominated, taken and used, by someone he liked, even trusted.

Sunstreaker wasn't ready to hide those loud noises from the world just yet, despite how his spike was dreading the neglect. He coaxed further moans from his brother, showing him the images of Shimmerfire's domination through his perspective. The golden mech pinned Sideswipe's hands close to his helm, rubbing his thumbs into those sensitive blade slits. ~You like that?~

~Frag yes! And you know it,~ he howled across their bond, his body willingly surrendered to his lovers and the strength they represented.

Sunstreaker finally gave up, those noises his brother was making completely clouding his desire for making their little exploits all the more exciting, and shifting his position to straddle Sideswipe's chest. The tip of his spike nudged the silver warrior's lips, nearly trembling itself. ~You can take it.~ Oh, he knew that for a fact.

Take it, love it, relish it, gain almost as much pleasure from sucking his brother off as he did the other way around.

With her next thrust Shimmerfire leaned forward and began to kiss and nibble Sunstreaker's neck, watching with hungry optics as his golden spike disappeared between silver lips.

"So fragging hot," she murmured against Sunstreaker's audio.

Sunstreaker's moans echoed, his body beginning to reach overheating points where his internal fans began to work overtime. He lifted a hand to rest against Shimmerfire's neck as she attacked his, optics centered on the sight of his brother taking his spike. "Mmm ... he's good at that."

He felt her nod, her voice stolen by the moans of pleasure Sideswipe's valve was drawing from her. It was the way his brother started to hum and suck hard, trying to get him off before overload swept him away.

Sunstreaker grunted loudly, strings of his own groans following as his hips began to rock his spike into the attention it was receiving. His optics off-lined, vocal processor hoarse as he leaned his head back on the Seeker's shoulder. "Primus..."

"My mates," Shimmerfire whispered hotly, loosening one hand from Sideswipe's hip to caress Sunstreaker's chassis, paying special attention to his headlights and teams.

The golden mech shuddered lightly from the constant touches, the open bond with his brother giving him exactly every sensation he felt as Shimmerfire worked his valve. He gritted his denta, loosely grasping his brother's helm and craning his neck enough to find the Seeker's lips with his own.

She brought her hand up to support and hold him there as she lost control. Her turbines revved fast and loud, the trusts as she poured transfluid into Sideswipe's valve hard and jerking, matching the gasping, grunting cries of her overload into Sunstreaker's mouth.

The hot splash of transfluid and feel of his lover loose control sent Sideswipe over the edge himself, his valve clenching and fluttering around her spike as he moaned and shuddered, trying to taste his brother's transfluid.

Sunstreaker was overwhelmed not but mere seconds after his brother, frame trembling slightly as his transfluid filled Sideswipe's mouth. He took a few kliks to gather himself, pulling carefully out of his brother's mouth and suspiciously eying the window they were settled under.

It hadn't opened, but he only had a glance before Shimmerfire's hands turned controlling and he found himself on his back with her mouth on his and her spike against his valve.

Sunstreaker's optics flickered momentarily, feeling his spark pulse dangerously in its chamber. The only mech he'd ever let spike him was Sideswipe, though it was on rare occasions, and even though he usually enjoyed it, he always acted stubbornly grumpy afterward.

He couldn't deny that her forcefulness turned him on, though. Usually that was how Sideswipe got him; he usually got the golden mech so worked up that he had him practically begging for it.

Groaning lightly against her lips, his engine vibrated heavily against her chassis.

~Oh _Pits_ that is smoking hot,~ Sideswipe gasped across their bond as he watched his brother take their lover's spike and the domination she was exuding. ~Can't remember the last time we had anyone we could both dom and sub to.~

~You shouldn't be able to, unless I was a little too happy on the high grade,~ Sunstreaker nearly growled, tossing his head back until his helm hit the grass beneath them when she took her spike and began to make deeper groans than normal. His optics flared. ~Do something to me!~ he demanded, his mood altering thanks to Shimmerfire's control.

Sideswipe grinned and moved to his brother's head, holding it tipped back and pressed the tip of his spike against those golden lips. ~Suck me off, bro,~ he rumbled demandingly. ~And maybe I'll spike you next.~

His optics dimmed and Sunstreaker wasted no time in taking his brother's silver spike completely into his mouth, forcing his throat cables to relax until it was hilted. He sucked hard, glossa swirling as he finally shifted his own hips to meet Shimmerfire's thrusts. ~You'd like that, wouldn't you?~ he mused, groaning afterward.

~You know fraggin well I would,~ Sideswipe groaned, relishing both in the feeling of his brother sucking his spike and the pleasure Sunstreaker felt doing it and having his valve pounded into hard and fast. He moaned and shuddered when Shimmerfire reached forward and grabbed the back of his helm, pulling him in for a kiss over Sunstreaker's chassis. Even without a link, her wings and sounds made it clear she was enjoying dominating them both.

The golden mech's fingers dug deep marks into the grass as the pleasure loop between him and his brother circled faster, as fast as her pace drove into his valve. The noises that had been muffled against Sideswipe's spike only ended with deep vibrations stimulating it more. ~Sides...~

"Oh Primus," Sideswipe gasped out when the kiss with Shimmerfire broke, ragged moans being drawn from his vocalizer by the intense pleasure. With his face tipped up, he saw Prime leaning out his office window, arms crossed on the sill, looking down on them.

The big mech didn't say anything though.

Sunstreaker's optics blinked before leveling, glossa pausing in its movements as his denta slightly squeezed against the sensitive silver spike in his mouth. It felt a little surreal to see their leader staring down at them, seemingly devoid of predictable emotion. ~Is that who I think it is?~ he questioned, wondering if it was simply the rush of the moment that was making him see things.

~It is, and he's apparently enjoying the show,~ Sideswipe rocked his hips to get Sunstreaker to go back to work while he pulled Shimmerfire forward for another kiss.

~Oh, sure he would,~ Sunstreaker growled, creating another suction that had his brother crying out against their Seeker's lips. The golden mech suddenly arched his back, pede grinding into the ground as he felt his circuitry and wires coil as his body prepared for an overload he knew was coming.

Shimmerfire growled against Sideswipe's mouth and thrust hard once more before overload swept through her, tightening her grip on the back of Sideswipe's helm and Sunstreaker's hip. Her next thrusts were sharp and jerking, each one delivering a burst of hot transfluid into the golden warrior's valve.

Sunstreaker knew that he couldn't last. He still wanted to taste his brother, though, so his hasty attention to Sideswipe's spike was increased, sucking hard enough that his cheek plates slightly caved.

With Sunstreaker's valve overload pouring into him and the mouth working his spike, Sideswipe couldn't last long and didn't try. As he moaned, his overload sweeping through him and pumping transfluid into his brother's mouth, he watched transfluid spurted from the erect golden spike between himself and Shimmerfire. Watched as the pearlescent liquid fall in an arch to coating the golden frame thanks to the gravity of the planet.

"Oh wow," Sideswipe said through the heavy, ragged efforts of his vents and fans to cool him.

"As much of a theme this has become lately, please take yourselves to your quarters before round three," Prime spoke evenly but firmly with just a hint of amusement in his voice. "Be thankful that Ratchet warned me what carrying does to a mech or you'd be in more trouble."

When Sunstreaker finally gathered himself, he could feel his cheek plates heating from slight embarrassment at the light scolding. He had a feeling that the 'but Shimmerfire's carrying!' excuse would only work for no long, so he guessed that trump card would have to be used in more dire situations. "Sir," he acknowledged, though he couldn't resist a slight smirk at Shimmerfire as she pulled her spike out of his clenching valve.

"Yes, Sir," Sideswipe quipped, quickly retracting his spike and closing his panel.

"Yes, Sir," Shimmerfire added as she did the same, though she sounded the least repentant of the lot. "Do you know when Jazz will return?"

"In an orn or two, I expect," he answered easily. "His last communiqué was quite positive. Get going," he said as he withdrew. "I want the sparklings healthy."

Sunstreaker finally stood after the others did, the soft hiss of his hydraulics indicating the shutting of his own interface panel. His processor felt pleasantly lighter than normal. "Mhm, yes, all six of them," the golden mech mused, though he was sure their Prime was already aware of the number.

"All six, but especially yours," Shimmerfire trilled affectionately, caressing his helm vents as they walked towards their quarters.

"You can tell?" Sideswipe perked up sharply as he was drawn against her other side.

"Yes," she looked a little surprised at the question. "I can show you which chamber holds who's sparkling protoform."

Both of Sunstreaker's optic ridges rose. "Where's ours?" he questioned, his voice curious as he reached a hand out to stroke against her abdominal plating. It was instinctive - an action he had a feeling he'd be doing for the next three-quarters of a vorn.

She smiled and twisted to face both of them, her wings sweeping upwards to clear their heads before settling back into their natural position. She caught Sunstreaker's hand and showed him, by touch, each of the six chambers that already took up the lower two thirds of her large chassis. "The lower three, the first sparked, are by you," she included them both in the statement as she guided curious fingers over the three chambers; right, center, left.

"These are by Tread Bolt," she indicated with her own fingers the right and center chamber in the upper set. "And this one is by Jazz," her fingers ghosted over the upper left chamber.

The golden warrior's optics widened in surprise. He had been expecting one, maybe two, but three? He was going to drown in his the amount of pure joy Sideswipe was sending through their bond, amid several other emotions and desires he could easily place.

"Three are ours," Sunstreaker confirmed out loud, and after allowing her to guide his fingers to find which of the other sparklings belonged to whom, drifted them towards theirs again. "Primus ... we're going to have to come up with names for three?"

"Yes, three are yours," she smiled and leaned down to kiss Sideswipe, who'd physically frozen in his inability to deal with the news with anything more than joy. "They'll have their own ideas for names by the time they're born," she assured Sunstreaker before kissing him as well.

The golden mech's vocal processor let out gargled static when she pressed her lips against his, and his optics were resetting far too many times to be normal. Finally, he huffed his approval, slipping his pede onto the cement walkways they were passing over so that he could grab a hold of his brother's wrist and tug him forward. "As long as one of them doesn't decide to call themselves 'Glitterfairy' or something."

Shimmerfire and Sideswipe both snickered at that.

"I'll do my best to keep their names appropriate," she almost giggled. "But I wouldn't worry about that one at least. It's a terribly un-Seeker-like name."

"It's a terrible name all around," Sunstreaker pointed out, trying not to allow his processor to provide him with any more. One was quite enough. "Anyway, we don't want to disappoint our Prime, do we?" he smirked mischievously, optic ridges rising as he skidded backwards while pulling his brother's arms around him. "You might wanna hurry before I fall out of _that_ mood."

"You only have two moods, 'face and fight," Sideswipe teased. "Easy enough either way you go."

"Funny," Sunstreaker droned, nipping at his brother's neck cables as they neared Shimmerfire's quarters. "I'll remember that when you wanna cling to me at night when we're about to recharge." He smirked in Shimmerfire's direction.

"I think it's sexy," she rumbled, speeding her steps in anticipation of a long session of lovemaking with the pair, and maybe get to watch them fawn over the gestation chambers again.

* * *

Shimmerfire wasn't sure what made her feel better; the new sparks around hers, the Seekerling frames being built in her body, being completely sated and fuelled or the warrior snuggled against each side of her chassis. Even their weight on her wings felt good, a testament to how much her core programming trusted the pair to defend her and her clutch.

Sunstreaker's hands had been alternating their subconscious duties. He was either rubbing a hand over any spot on the Seeker he could reach, or he was drifting the servo across her abdominal plating. Sometimes they brushed the higher chambers, but more often his fingers lingered to leave touches over the three lower ones where he knew their sparklings to be growing.

Eventually, though, did the golden frontliner reach out and grab at a silver hand, urging it to join his at rest across her three lower chambers, fingers entwined. "Will they recognize who we are, do you think?" he wondered aloud. "Will they know we're their co-creators?" He hadn't the slightest clue when it came to sparklings, and he was still wrapping his processor around the information Ratchet had forwarded to them.

"They should," she smiled down at him, one hand caressing each twin. "You share a spark resonance with them, just as they do with me. Within a metacycle they'll be coherent enough to pick up bits and pieces of my thoughts that pertain to them. I knew what my co-creator looked like from my carrier long before I was born."

A light sound of approval came from Sunstreaker's vocalizer. "Then they should be well accustomed to Sideswipe and I when the carrying period is over." That made it a bit easier to think about. If they were basing their thought processes off of what they gained from Shimmerfire, then he was sure they were going to be positive images.

"Very much," she crooned a soft trill and stroked his head vent. "When they're older, you can connect with them a little more directly with a hardline link to me. Not till at least the half-vorn mark though. They have to be fairly well developed to comprehend much more than basic sensations. Like right now, I think they know I'm content, and I can tell that they are well-fed and content."

A grin formed on his mouth plates as he shifted ever so slightly so that he was comfortably resting his head against her shoulder. "You're going to have to let either me or glitch head know when they're not well-fed so we can do something about it," he pointed out. "Might as well get into the habit now, at least."

"As if _you're_ going to be in on this more than me," Sideswipe shot back, though his new position, curled on his side with head and arm draped on Shimmerfire's lower chassis over the sparklings he was co-creator of, of did much to take the bite out of his words.

"Don't worry, you'll know if they need anything," she crooned, thrilled beyond measure at how well Sunstreaker was taking to the role she'd hoped for.

Sunstreaker scoffed in mock annoyance, flicking a finger against his brother's helm. "Shut your trap, bro. Fine, I'll let you do all the co-mother activities," he teased, smirking again and tilting his chin to press a possessive kiss on Shimmerfire's lips. "I'll do all the rest, then."

Shimmerfire laughed, a deep, booming sound of joyful amusement at _her_ twin's antics and affectionately stroked both their helms. "As if I'm going to give up anything from either of you."

"You heard the Seeker," Sideswipe snickered. "Carrier rules the roost, you know."

"Sure, but who's to say what happens to silver twins while the Carrier is pleasantly recharging?" Sunstreaker droned sarcastically, his optics blazing. "Unspoken things, that's what. Unspoken, usually torturous things." He blinked his optics with mock innocence, chirring at her laughter.

"As if you can take me when I don't want to be taken," Sideswipe shot back with some actual heat behind it, his optics glowing eagerly.

Shimmerfire grinned, stroked them and generally made no secret of her approval of their antics and fire.

"_Please_, brother, you'd be mine within mere kliks," he assured, obviously confident. He traced a finger against Shimmerfire's chest plates absently. "The only reason I bottomed for you today was because 'Fire got me in the mood." A hot tuft of air released from his olfactory sensor vents.

"And I let you spike me most times because I _like_ it that way," Sideswipe countered. "Every time I _want_ your valve, I get it."

Sunstreaker visibly bristled, lifting himself lightly and nudging an accusing finger in his brother's direction. "Are you _asking_ for a rough pounding until you fall into a forced recharge? Because it sure does sound like it to me," he all but growled. "Damn masochist. _Primus_. That's what you _think_ happens, but in reality, I'm just trying not to hurt your feelings." A gruff nod followed his statement.

Neither watching mech missed the bright flare of Sideswipe's optics or the rev of his powerful engine. Neither brother missed the whir of Shimmerfire's heal-turbines at their banter, or the prospect of watching them struggle for interfacing dominance.

An optic ridge rose in question, his own engine growling and raising in frequency as his brother challenged him. There was a faint curl of tension in Sideswipe's lower frame, then he launched himself across his lover at his brother.

Sunstreaker flipped backwards off the berth, tumbling a few times with his brother nearly completely latched onto him in all aspects until their rolling ceased. His hands immediately went for Sideswipe's throat cables, squeezing and only releasing one hand when he decided to make a chance at grabbing the silver mech's nearest wrist.

Sideswipe's dentals were suddenly on his throat cables as he caught his brother's free wrist.

Despite the struggle, both brothers were well aware of the rumbling, trilling approval their mate was giving in encouragement.

Sunstreaker growled to match her thrilled noises, his vocal processor letting out garbled static from the pressure so close to its main processing unit. His engine roared, body pressing down against his brother's bulk as he struggled. The strength of his force on those throat cables tightened, optics blazing blue heat.

Sideswipe responded with a growl and rumble of his own engine, twisting until he rolled them over so he was on top.

The golden mech, despite his other struggles, allowed the movement just as he sent a blinding image of Sideswipe riding his spike in that position through their still open bond. The scowl didn't leave his mouth plates, however, especially when he jerked his hands free to grip around his brother's shoulders in an _almost_ denting force.

In retaliation, Sideswipe pushed a very vivid image of his spike pushing between golden lip components, ruining the scowl's affect.

Sunstreaker verbally groaned, the noise disoriented. He shoved both of them into a momentum, rolling until they clashed into the far wall, where he pinned Sideswipe the best he could with the weight of his body and forced his mouth on his.

Even there, it was debatable who was kissing who as their glossa dueled for dominance. Sideswipe pressed the only advantage he had, memories of shared pleasure where he dominated his brother. Not just the images, but the heat, the pleasure, the exquisite feeling of merging sparks when Sunstreaker was the one pinned down.

Sunstreaker's assault paused only for a moment, his processor swimming in the memories, before he ripped their mouths apart and went for Sideswipe's neck cables again. Golden hands found silver wrist, exerting force on them beside his brother's helm. "Quit cheating," he growled, engine thrumming.

"You started it," Sideswipe countered. He gave a twisting push, using the wall as leverage, to put Sunstreaker on his back again. This time he grabbed golden shoulders and shifted his weight to rub their open interface arrays together.

"So?" he hissed, knees coming up to pin against his brother's sides. A groan forced its way through his vocals, his body heating against his will, but as stubborn as he was, he jerked his head forward until their helms butted together roughly.

Sideswipe retaliated by pressing his helm down until he could capture Sunstreaker's mouth. He used that distraction to wiggle his way down to press their chassis against each other again. Lining their spikes up to rub against each other was pure instinct at that point.

The moaning and rumbling of turbines as Shimmerfire slowly stroked her spike did nothing to calm the pair down. Even without looking or thinking about it, both brothers knew this was turning her on something fierce.

Sunstreaker's optics flicked with pleasure until he forced them offline, feeling through memorization rather than sight. A stray hand found Sideswipe's wrist once more, and he none to gently grazed his fingers across his blade slits. A coarse moan ripped through him, dually pleased with Shimmerfire's arousal from across the room and Sideswipe's aggression.

One of Sideswipe's hands came up to tease the rim of a headlight, though his own frame trembled slightly at the attention to his wrist and all the sensors there.

~Admit it, you want my spike,~ Sideswipe pressed against him across their bond.

~_You_ want _mine_,~ Sunstreaker retorted, bucking his hips forward in a gruff contact of their interface panels. He brought his brother's hand to his mouth and bit down on his thumb with his denta, only lessening his grip when he felt the slightest taste of energon lure his glossa to lap up the escaping beads of sweet liquid.

Sideswipe shuddered in the pain-pleasure, his vents wide open and fans working hard. Oh, it was true, he did want his brother's spike, but he wanted to win this contest in front of Shimmerfire more. With a twisting, shifting push he brought his hips back and down, pressing his spike into his brother's valve without warning.

The golden mech growled out in pleasured frustration, his body shifting in an attempt to maneuver the silver frontliner to pull out of him. He thrashed, a fist just barely missing contact with Sideswipe's helm. ~You little...!~

~Hush,~ Sideswipe smirked and grabbed the offending arm, slamming it down as he thrust in hard and deep, taking advantage of the arousal of the previous joors that left his brother's valve slick and ready. ~You love it,~ he pulled out just a bit before thrusting in harder.

The golden warrior howled, denta gritting as he bit back moans, refusing to give his brother the satisfaction. His optics blazing once more, his defiance ended in two cables erecting from his body, one looping around silver thigh plating while the other plunged in and violated Sideswipe's valve. ~Brat!~

~Your brat,~ Sideswipe moaned, unashamed of his pleasure at the cable. His valve squeezed down around it as he thrust his spike in deep and hard. No matter how much his golden twin might bristle and object, there was no denying the mutual pleasure through their bond. ~You're mine.~

Sunstreaker finally groaned, vision blurring until they forcibly off-lined to leave his focused energy on the cables he was plunging in and out of Sideswipe's valve. His vocal processor gave a unique pitch, resulting in another, more defiant growl. There was a flurry of insults he was sure his brother could hear through his garbled static, but the pleasure was great, and he was losing himself to it. ~Harder!~

Without hesitation Sideswipe complied, putting everything he had into the strength of his thrusts, scrapping golden back plates against the metal floor. In the background, jet engines and turbines rumbled in heating arousal, echoed by Shimmerfire's shaking growls of her own pleasure.

~So tight,~ Sideswipe moaned, pressing harder against his brother's mouth. ~You feel so fragin good.~

Sunstreaker found his own dominance in fighting back his brother's glossa, nipping and biting at the mouth plates pressed against his own. He was in _that_ mood, the one drifting between his lust for interfacing and his lust for battle. He bucked, crushing against the silver mech's thrusts.

It was a mood Sideswipe responded to quickly, easily, as he bit back and clawed at golden armor. They were both oblivious to the hot arousal they were causing across the room, and only barely registered when Shimmerfire roared her overload.

A golden arm rose, curving around his brother's back and squeezing them together chassis to chassis. He felt that they couldn't get close enough somehow, that something was blocking them. Further frustrated, he pushed the cables deeper within his brother's valve.

Through the haze of ecstasy and lust, he felt his brother's offer to spark-share, if he wanted it.

Sunstreaker's processor lingered on the thought, but in reality, his chest plates whisked open without hesitation. His spark pulsed, bathing his brother with its brilliant sun colored light even as his golden armor reflected the brilliant sunlight from inside his brother's chest. Without hesitation they crushed their chests together, pressing the sparks against one another before they'd sent more than a couple tendrils out in welcome to it's other half.

The golden mech made a noise that was unknown to the emotion involved, but if one had to guess, it was satisfaction to near completion. He opened himself to Sideswipe, allowing their sparks to reach for each other with the same act of desire to become whole. ~Wanna feel you,~ he demanded, his spike, in full length, pinned uncomfortably between their bodies. ~My turn, my turn.~

~Not till I overload,~ Sideswipe countered and began to thrust again, though he did his best to shift so he wasn't putting as much pressure on spike pinned between them.

~You already did that today!~ he hissed, but his body was sending an refreshing sense of pleasure through him. Soon he was subconsciously muttering unmentionable things in Cybertronian, his legs coming up and wrapping around the silver mech's waist.

The pleasure of the spark merge, of feeling _complete_, broke over them in waves from their spark outwards, crawling along circuits and through energon lines. It never lasted long at this point, never, ever long enough.

Sideswipe growled, grunted, and then keened as he couldn't hold himself back and longer between the pleasure of his spike, that of his valve and the ecstasy beyond all else of being _complete_ once more.

Sunstreaker cried out a ragged amount of static when the feeling of a climbing overload sent him over the edge, right in time to feel his brother's transfluid filling his valve. He huskily sucked in cool air through his vents before swiftly retracting both cables and urging his brother out of him. ~Ride me,~ he demanded, keeping their chassis plates firmly pinned so that the merge would last through his own spike overload as well.

A shudder of excitement passed through the silver twin as he squirmed and shifted to sink fully onto his brother's spike. The rush of duel pleasure hit them both, then swept into the other. ~Oh yeah,~ Sideswipe moaned heatedly. ~Take me hard, bro.~

The golden twin settled into a seated position so that their chests wouldn't be strained as their sparks touched each other intimately and affectionately. A low rumbling churr followed a deep moan as he bucked his hips upward, slamming up into the silver warrior without any hesitation. ~Feel so good,~ he mumbled, claiming those lips again with his own.

~Nothing better,~ Sideswipe groaned and kiss back heatedly, his valve eagerly clenching around the thick golden spike invading it so deeply.

Every time he jerked his hips upwards, the bulk of his body momentarily came off the ground. Sunstreaker clutched his brother as close to himself as he could, letting the feeling of enveloping him and being enveloped turn into a double edged sword of extreme pleasure, one that he could never find himself getting tired of. ~Love you.~ He gritted his denta as the closeness made it far quicker to ride over the edge of another overload, something that made him motivate his power rather than speed. ~Love you so much.~

~Yes!~ was all Sideswipe could manage in reply, but his emotions, his love, adoration, loyalty ... everything he felt for his brother ... flowed freely between them more powerfully than any words could.

Sunstreaker's awareness greedily blanketed that of his brother, blinding him momentarily to the outside world to focus on solely his presence as their bodies rocked in unison. He teetered over the edge of his pleasure, reaching his climax and coating the silver warrior's valve with his transfluid, only dimly aware that his other half happily crashed over the precipice with him.

* * *

| Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 |


	26. Hunting Pleasure 10: Business in Bangkok

**Fandom:** Transformers Bayverse (POV'verse)  
**Author:** gatekat and femme4jack on LJ  
**Pairing:** Jazz/Ngwa Ma-le  
**Rating:** NC-17 for holoform/female, R for mech/female  
**Codes:** Het, Xeno (Transformer/Human), Slavery, Dub-con  
**Summary:** Jazz does a little 'shopping' for the Twins.  
**Notes:** Written in the Point of View fanverse (community .livejournal .com/tf_matrix)

Femme's note: I have been wanting to really delve into the shades of gray in this verse like Aniay and I originally started doing with Bee's nonconsensual marking of Sam and Hide's manipulation, which we actually toned down quite a bit from the original role play. One of the things that has come up for me as a player in recent weeks, thanks to Gatekat, is that not all Autobots are as "positive" about organic life as others, and even among them there are major differences in terms of views of organic rights and how an organic socket is viewed.

While the Autobots are united in their desire to protect organic life from torture and slavery, that is where the unity ends. Ratchet and Wheeljack view their sockets as equals, lovers, similar to how they would act toward a bonded of their own kind, and yet even the two of them are very different from each other. Mirage, while being tremendously affectionate and doting toward his socket, sees her more as a human would see a beloved pet. And then there is Sunstreaker, who for the most part wants nothing to do with organics unless they have a socket and he can get a boost from them. They are pretty much a convenient tool and interacting with them a necessary evil. I get the feeling (though I may be wrong), that he really would have no problem with the generator system, but the socket system provides better energy, is more pleasant, and is what his twin prefers.

[Added by gatekat: Regarding Sunny's view on sockets vs generator. It honestly never occurred to either of them to think about it. They were created well into the war by the Autobots. That generators are bad was just an accepted fact of reality, like the twins had been created to fight. I suspect if given a truly informed, open choice, they'd go socket for the quality, not for moral reasons.]

So given that a socket is a necessity for all of the mechs, given that a even the best of them would likely rape before they allowed their spark to extinguish, and given that most people living on base would have a very difficult time with Sunny's attitudes if they were to engage in anything beyond the most casual of sharing with him, how would the twins find a socket to claim (as Sideswipe wishes to)?

Jazz and Prowl have experience dealing with this in the past: Find a candidate for whom life with the twins would be an improvement over what s/he has already been living. This is how we find ourselves with Jazz in Thailand, purchasing a young woman from a high-end human trafficker. Make you uncomfortable? It should. But that is part of what this verse is about. Miles is really struggling with it, too, and he is the one who suggested this particular solution.

By the way, I did quite a bit of research on the situation this particular girl comes out of. Almost everything about her situation in this plot is feasible, other than it is unlikely that a trafficked girl from the Hill Tribes of Burma would end up anywhere other than a low end Karaoke club in a Thai city, and she's older than is likely at 18 (14-16 is much more normal). Incidentally, I named her after a young woman from the same tribe who was gang raped and killed by the Myanmar (Burmese) police, something that is far too common for women living under that particular disaster of a government. I hope that her character will give me a chance as a writer to explore the nature of consent and choice.

What Ngwa Ma-Le looks like (files .myopera .com/nayminnaung00/albums/735688/Zin%20Zin%20Zaw%20Myint%200007 .jpg)

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Hunting Pleasure 10: Business in Bangkok

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He was a well-respected Thai businessman, among the best at what he did. His clients spanned the globe, and paid well for what he was able to provide them. He was used to getting strange and very specific requests, and if a suitable advance appeared in the proper account, he had no trouble meeting those requests as quickly as required. This was how he found himself waiting in a suite at an upscale hotel overlooking Bangkok with a beautiful young woman in the adjoining room. The request had been one of the more unusual he had received. He had been asked to find a beautiful, legal aged girl from among those who were being acquired from the Hill Tribes in Burma, but who had not yet been sold to a low end Karaoke club where such girls normally ended, heavily used for a few years before being dumped on the streets. She was to be a "virgin" acquisition - as in no conditioning, no rape, no abuse in her transit. The client had not specified whether the girl was to actually be a virgin, though the businessman assumed this was a given as this was so highly prized among most of his clients.

While it had been an unusual request in many ways (normally his clients were far more specific about appearance and age than they were about origin), he didn't think twice about fulfilling it after a healthy sum appeared in his account. He thought it might take him several weeks to find the right candidate, but was pleasantly surprised when his contacts had a prospect immediately. She was a Lisu girl who had been trafficked from village in the "Golden Triangle" where Thailand, Laos, and Myanmar met, and she was unusually beautiful. She had not yet been sold to a Karaoke club because the traffickers had found her to be so unusually lovely that they thought they might fetch a higher price for her elsewhere. However, they'd had no luck due to her origins (the hill tribes were looked upon by the Thai much as the Roma were in Europe) and the fact that she was "spoiled goods". At that he almost refused to take a look, but something about the way his contacts described her made him take the time to travel to a disreputable area of the city and see her for himself. She was indeed lovely, so much so that he was tempted to keep her for himself, affectionately referring to her as Zin, the name of a famous Burmese model and actress who came from the same tribe. However, he ultimately was not interested in damaged goods either; he had far too many young women who were intact available for him to purchase. Before refusing, however, he took a photo and double-checked with his client as to whether it was absolutely necessary that she be an actual virgin. He was surprised to receive an immediate response that she would be acceptable and that the client would travel personally to pick her up in 2 days time, reiterating the instructions that she not be conditioned in any manner other than the typical instructions about make up and western clothing.

"You are a very lucky girl, my Zin. He is on his way up now. He has not yet told me his given name, but has been going by Jazz, so unless he says otherwise, you will address him as Kuhn Jazz and offer the wai," he said to her when he checked on her one last time where she waited in the spacious bedroom of the suite. She did look elegant, so similar to the famous model now that she had been properly dressed and made up that she could easily be a stand in for the famous Zin Zin Zaw Myint. The girl kept her eyes properly downcast, responding to him in her broken Thai, "As you wish, Khun Vichai."

The bell rang, and a servant announced the client's arrival.

"Sawatdee-krap," the lithely built Westerner in a finely crafted silver Armani suit greeted him with all the natural grace and flawless Thai of native nobility. With that same smooth grace he placed the palms of his hands together, fingers extended at chest level close to his body and bowed slightly in greeting an equal.

"Sawatdee-krap," the business man replied, surprised and highly impressed to find a Westerner using the correct greeting, and speaking in fluent Thai. "Where are you going today, Kuhn Jazz," Vichai asked, using his people's version of "how are you doing?" to further test the westerner's knowledge.

"Not far," Jazz smiled easily, still comfortable and relaxed with his holoform's crystal blue eyes hidden by silvered band-shades. His sensors, coming down from the roof where he'd climbed after dropping 'himself' off at the hotel, told him that what he was buying was in the next room over and in a suitable condition; properly fed, hydrated and not in pain. She was unsettled and frightened, but that was to be expected. He allowed his pleasure at the knowledge give his holoform that much more easy a smile. Thai loved to smile.

"Would you care for some tea, my friend, or would you like examine your purchase? Your email indicated that you would be in a bit of a hurry, so I have no problem skipping the pleasantries if you wish," Kuhn Vichai replied with an easy smile of his own, accustomed as he was to Westerners and their 'all business' attitude and hurried approach to life.

"The tea would be pleasant," Jazz said easily, having long since come up with his holoform's family and personal history going back hundreds of generations. It was meaningless chatter on his part, not a word that escaped him was any more true than it had to be. But it would gather useful intel on Kuhn Vichai, who would be telling the truth for the most part, and likely a few tidbits on his purchase and the industry in general.

After all, it paid to cozy up to the folks whom you'd have future business with.

Noticing a lull in the conversation, Vichai smiled at the Westerner. He felt very positive about the potential to do further business with the polite gentleman. "If you are finished with your tea, would you care to examine your purchase? You may take as long as you wish. If for any reason you find she is unsuitable, I will return half of your deposit, as I wish to do business with you again, and even should she not prove acceptable, you may still enjoy your time with her on the house, since she is not intact."

"Thank you," Jazz smiled easily and pleasantly as he put his tea down and stood to follow Vichai to the large bedroom. His gaze swept across the room and its occupant as he stepped inside.

Yes, Sunstreaker would find her looks appealing.

The young woman was slender with the renowned glowing skin tone and features representing the very best of her tribe. She was wearing a simple western style black dress that showed the curves of her figure and accentuated her legs. Though she was petite by western standards, her height was quite tall for a Lisu girl. She was sitting on the bed looking extremely nervous and frightened and stood as soon as the door opened. As she had been instructed, she placed her hands together in the wai greeting and bowed deeply to Jazz as a subordinate would to a superior, saying in her hesitant Thai, "Sawatdee-kah, Kuhn Jazz." Her eyes remained on the floor in respect as she awaited his pleasure.

"I will leave the you alone for as long as you wish, Kuhn Jazz, so that you may inspect your purchase," Vichai said politely, closing the door.

As much as she has been coached to appear eager, the girl was practically shaking in fear, Vichai noticed with no small amount of disgust. If she cost him this client, there would be hell to pay.

"Sawatdee-krap," Jazz responded, offering her the wai with a small bow once Vichai was gone. "What is your name?" he asked smoothly in her native language as he stepped closer, taking in her trembling. "I will not hurt you," he added softly as he removed his shades, knowing it tended to comfort humans to see eyes, even the piercing crystal blue ones he sported.

Her first clue that Kuhn Jazz was a very different sort of man than the ones she had come across since leaving her village was his return of the wai. One did not offer the wai to one's inferiors. Only equals and superiors. She would have supposed it was his western ignorance save for the even more inexplicable fact that he _knew_ her native tongue, which few outside those born in Lisu villages ever spoke.

She kept her eyes politely downcast, but managed to still her trembling. This strange man had her fate in his hands, and she did not want to imagine the aftermath with Vichai if Kuhn Jazz found her lacking in any way. The trafficker may not have touched her, but his verbal warnings had been all too clear, and that prospect was nothing less than terrifying.

"My name is Ma-le, Kuhn Jazz. How may I please you today?"

"By sitting and speaking honestly, Ma-le," he said smoothly as he sat on the bed. "There are several places you can go from here; with me, back home, to a city of your choice."

Ma-le did a double take, finally looking the elegant man in the eyes, which were crystal blue, brighter than any she'd seen on the western shows that she had occasionally watched on TV. He was the _first_ westerner she had ever met in person as they did not freely travel in Burma.

Confused, but for the first time in many weeks hopeful, she sat on the bed a few feet from him, unsure what to do. "I don't understand," she finally said, speaking honestly. Everything about him baffled her and was not at all what she had been expecting.

"You are lovely enough and have the manner and body to do well with those I have bought you for," he said easily, confident that if there was some kind of scrutiny in the room that he was blocking it. "You will be treated well, never lack for anything in your long life and enjoy things few humans will ever know. There are laws I must obey, however. You must give an informed consent to the arrangement. To my leader, that means that you must have an option that is agreeable to you that does not involve us.

"So you are free to choose to return to your family and I will take you to them. You are free to choose any place in the world and I will take you there. If you wish to learn what I have to offer and what the Twins will want of you, those choices are still available."

Of all the things she might have imagined the strange man saying, what he said was not one of them. Having a choice was something she had known very little of, save for two critical and costly choices she had made for the sake of her family, who were her world. What he offered her was both what she wanted more than anything in the world, and what she absolutely could not do.

"Forgive me, Kuhn Jazz, I am not used to being presented with such choices, nor with speaking with a man in this way. I would give anything in this whole world to be able to be with my family, but I cannot, because if I returned to them, I would only make a similar choice to the one I did before."

"Because they need the money to survive," he said, knowing full well what brought girls out of the hills. "Surely your price bought them what they needed for a time."

She again met his eyes, shaken by the truth of his statement.

"I am the only one in my family that has something of value to trade that could help them. I chose the traffickers rather than going on my own so they would get an advance, enough to get them through this season and allow my brother to go to school this year. My father was reluctant, but allowed me to convince him, and the traffickers promised that once I paid back their fees, I would have a monthly stipend to send home. I figured out quickly that had been a lie. Now, I would simply go back to the city on my own and find work in a karaoke club or glass house, and send them whatever I could. If I were to stay in my village, most likely I'd end up raped and taken by the army, with my family receiving nothing, or if not, starve with them until we gave up our land and became refugees, and then be forced to make the same choice, but with no home to send anything to."

Her eyes were hard and held no naiveté.

He nodded. She said nothing he did not expect. Even in the short time he had been investigating human trafficking and other methods to acquire humans that were effectively property according to their cultures he'd learned the hard truths.

"How much would see your family through a year?" he asked her easily with a gentle smile as he leaned back on his hands and began to slip into his more natural mannerisms. He knew the answer of course, but he wanted her to say it, or say she did not know. He needed her to understand what he was offering when he did offer it.

She thought for quite some time, obviously doing the figuring in her head, and then answered very honestly, "1300 kyat a year would allow them to make it through rough seasons and for my brother to attend school."

Jazz nodded again. $200 USD, give or take. Prime would squirm and object to how little they would send, even at $250, but any more than that would make her family a target. Prowl had made the Prime understand local economics in the past and would again. The amount would be adjusted for inflation and taxes, but it was the most they could do without causing more harm than good.

"I know you are not intact. Was it by a lover?" he asked gently.

Ma-Le's cast her eyes down and turned red. "I am sorry, Kuhn Jazz. It was by three men from the army, when I was thirteen. Forgive me if this displeases you. I should have fought, but because of me, they did not notice and take my brother or my sisters."

"It does not displease me," he told her gently. "Well, it does, but not towards you. Have you had a lover, anyone who cared for your pleasure?"

"There was a boy that I loved, who promised to speak with my father about me, but he was taken by the army a few years ago. No one has seen him since. We were not lovers. I have brought no further dishonor to my family since the first time."

"The Twins prefer not to deal with virgins," he gave her a smile that was meant to be reassuring and resisted the urge to touch her, knowing it was not a good thing in her mind. "They don't mind teaching you what pleases them, but..." he hesitated, then reached out to brush her cheek. "My people are very tactile. I know it will be a culture shock worse than what you've already faced. I know you don't believe you have a choice, and I understand in a practical sense what I'm offering is far better than the other options."

_By the Pit he hated the position Prime put him in._

He tipped her chin up to look him in the eyes, privately praying that he was giving her all the right non-verbal cues. "You can tell me no and your family will still receive the full yearly stipend for your services. I would like to show you what a lover offers among my kind."

Ma-Le felt that her world had turned upside down. _Nothing_ was going as expected. To be truthful, nothing had gone as expected since she had left her village. The men who had paid her family had told her, as soon as they had left the village that she was in debt for the amount that they had paid, and that she would have to work off what she owed, or they could find someone to pay them off, and then she would owe that person. Her hopes of having money to send to her family each month had been dashed. Several other girls had been lured in neighboring villages, and another who was traveling on her own had been convinced to come with them for a safe journey to Bangkok. Ma-le had been the oldest of all of them, and had tried her best to care for them on the way, even offering herself when they began to rape one of the younger girls in front of them as a warning. The men had only laughed. The rest of the girls had been taken to karaoke clubs and glass houses, but they had different plans for her, trying to fetch a higher price to 'pay off her debt'. The next thing she knew, she had been forced to stand naked in front of Kuhn Vichai while he examined every part of her, and then spent two long days being coached by two of the girls he owned in what to wear and how to present herself. And now this...this strange man with piercing eyes, offering to pay her family enough to live on, asking her whether someone had cared for her pleasure, offering to show her what a lover was like. She had fully expected that she would be having sex with this man, but not like this. It ignited something in her that had been buried since Nai had been taken by the army.

"I am here for your pleasure, Kuhn Jazz," she said with a tremor in her voice that was not fear. She would not say no to him.

A soft, knowing finger traveled along her jawline before he brought his mouth close to hers. "You will never be punished for saying no," he whispered a promise, his voice carrying that he meant it with his entire being. Then soft, gentle lips brushed against hers as he moved closer. "Without your pleasure I receive nothing," he said before kissing her slowly, exploring her lips with tender touches.

Ma-Le whimpered at his touches, her mouth opening beneath his, her hands moving by a will of their own to his shoulders. A few stolen kisses from Nai had been the closest she had ever come to touch like this from a man.

Slender, pale fingers slid along her arm, making her skin tingle as he deepened the kiss, still taking his time. His other hand ran down her side, a thumb just brushing the outside of her breast as it passed.

She shivered and pressed herself into him. It seemed impossible that the tender touches could create so much feeling inside of her, each simple caress sending a jolt through her body that raced straight to her rapidly moistening sex. His lips left hers for a moment to gently explore her neck. "Who are you?" She whispered.

"I am Jazz," he answered, kissing along her neck with little licks of a soft tongue to taste her. "It's as close to my real name as you can pronounce."

Ma-Le had no idea what to do. Her body craved the touch, soaking it up like a sponge. One of her hands moved to his face as he tasted her neck, hesitantly touching as she made a soft whimper in the back of her throat to each flick of his tongue.

Jazz hummed softly, his hands ghosting across her slender legs, then up to explore her back. His breath came faster as his sensors told him of her arousal. "Ma-Le, we'll undress at your pace," he just barely kept his voice calm and cool with the responses he was getting from her and his own systems. He'd have to jerk his real form off hard before he picked her up outside at this rate. "You'll undress us."

Ma-Le whimpered again as his hands began exploring other parts of her. She wanted to please him, this mysterious benefactor whose touches were igniting her rather than using her. "Would it please you if I undressed?" she asked, her voice trembling with desire to feel his skin.

"Yes," he answered without hesitation. He very much wanted to touch her, to feel her life force at its peak even through the holoform. "You are so lovely, so alive."

Ma-Le slipped off the dress, leaving her in the black lace bra and panties Vichai's girls had provided for her. Looking at him shyly, her shaking hands fumbled as they tried to unclasp the bra.

Those piercing crystal blue eyes followed her every movement, his face openly appreciative of what he was seeing. He slid slender fingers along her exposed abdomen and leaned forward to kiss her again with the same tender care that he gave her with ever touch.

Still fumbling, she finally managed to unclasp her bra, pulling if off and putting it aside, then gasping as a hand gently cupped her one of her small pale breasts, a finger teasing her dark nipples and areola.

She gasped and moaned, her hands moved to his chest, feeling his heat through his clothing, wanting to feel his skin against hers.

"Do you want me to undress?" he breathed against her neck, his body trembling in desire as he explored the wealth of newly exposed skin.

Still desperate to please, she looked at him earnestly. "If it pleases you, or if you wish for me to do so, I will, Kuhn Jazz." The only thing she wanted more than to touch his skin and feel it against hers was to help her family...and somehow, if he were as honest as he seemed, she would be doing both.

His breath caught against her throat, warm and carrying the promise of pleasure filled desire. "Yes, I want you to."

Her hands on his chest moved to first slip off the expensive tailored jacked he wore. Mindful of its cost and elegance, she briefly stood and laid it over a chair before returning to undo his tie, faltering with it, unsure what to do having never untied one. Her face finally lit up with a bright smile to as she figured out the knot and giggled at herself nervously. Taking off the tie, she folded it neatly and set it on the bed beside her before undoing each of his buttons with trembling fingers, the corners of her mouth still twitching into a grin as she let her fingers ghost across the skin she exposed. After figuring out the cufflinks, she removed the shirt, letting her hands slide down his back as she did so, her breathing ragged with excitement as her breasts made contact with his skin.

Jazz caught her mouth in another kiss, slightly more urgent, his hands exploring her shoulders, her back, drawing her closer. He spread his knees and leaned back, drawing her slender body down against his, letting her feel his body's desire for her. All the white on the roof, his real body was nearly as desperate. It didn't matter that his spark was full to the point he wondered if he could create a sparkling on his own. The drive to feed off her pleasure was still intense.

Ma-Le returned the kiss desperately, her inexperience far outweighed by her enthusiasm that she could no longer hold back now that her skin was touching his masculine chest. Her hips were grinding down by instinct to feel his erection against her wet sex, her whimpers turning into moans. Feeling suddenly bold, she slid her hand to his waste band and began working to unbuckle his belt and slide off his pants, no longer concerned with the expense of the clothes as she kicked them off the bed, leaving just two thin layers of cloth between them.

"Yesss," Jazz hissed in pleasure, his hips rocking up against hers. His hands slid up the back of her legs, over the fine black panties and slipped his fingers under them to rub the only skin still covered. "Let me pleasure you," he whispered, his hard body trembling from the effort to control what he knew she didn't want controlled.

Her only possible response was a moan. Her depths were so hungry for touch that they ached. She moved her face to his neck to inhale his scent and taste him before practically begging, "if it pleases you, Kuhn Jazz."

"It does," he murmured hotly.

Ma-Le moaned, grinding herself into his erection again, her panties soaked through with her desire for him. Knowing it would please him, and wanting desperately to see and feel what lie beneath his silk boxers, she slid them off, gasping as his hot erection was suddenly against her belly as she slid them off of him with her feet.

"Kuhn Jazz?" she asked, her voice desperate, not even sure of her question.

He gasped at the contact, twisted to roll her over on the bed. His mouth found hers, his body pressed against hers as his fingers slid under her panties to stroke the slick, swollen flesh between her legs, paying careful attention to her clit. She was so ready, so excited, it was killing him to not be able to plug in and absorb all that delicious energy.

She arched into him, breathing in ragged gasps. Her body had never felt anything like this. "Jazz...please," she begged, and then kissed him desperately with whimpers in her throat as he explored her folds. Her body twitched each time he pressed against her clit.

Nodding against her neck he slid his hand out, touching as much as he could, and shifted upwards so he could pull her panties off. As they hit the floor he moved between her legs, gently spreading them so he could kneel between them. Keeping his eyes on her face and his sensors on her body, he pressed the spongy tip of his holoform's cock into her body. It was a slow agony, taking his time, but a sweet one too.

Ma-Le cried out, her hips arching and legs wrapping around him to attempt to pull him fully inside of her. She boldly met his strange eyes, her own dark ones pleading with him.

With a soundless nod Jazz pressed all the way inside, hilting himself inside her body. He rocked his hips without pulling back, grinding against her clit and drinking in the sensations of an eager, ready and pleasured lover even though he couldn't feed. It still felt so very good to cause such a reaction. It fed his desire for control and dominance, to be the center of the universe, nearly as much as a no holds barred interrogation did.

Her hungry body was finally filled with him, and she made small little cries as he pushed himself deliberately where it felt the best. Her entire world compressed into the sensation of his thick cock inside of her and that tiny spot just beyond which he ignited with his grinding. Having a man inside her this way was so different than what she had feared. Since her first brutal experience she had assumed that sex was something women tolerated at best or, more likely, painfully endured. Now, instead, she tingled and trembled, gasping as he continued to grind, and as amazing as that felt, she wanted to feel him move. She wanted that sweet paradise of being filled over and over again with someone who was so masculine, strong, confident and caring.

"It feels so good," she whispered, sounding awed. "You feel so good." Unspoken behind her words was how terribly afraid she had been for so long of what she was now starving for.

"It should always feel at least this good," he murmured as he leaned forward to kiss her again, his hips shifting as he began to thrust, slow and deeply. "Pleasure is the purpose."

Modesty demanded that she be quiet, stifling moans and whimpers in her throat and against his lips. But then she broke off the kiss and cried out as he thrust harder into her before slowing again. She ran her hands along his back and onto his ass, delighting in the smoothness of his skin and the feel of his hips moving as he thrust into her. How had she ever lived without this; how had she lived not knowing the pleasure her own body was capable of feeling?

"Is it good for you, Kuhn Jazz?" she haltingly asked in all naiveté. "I know so little."

"Very good," his breath was hot against her neck as he kissed and licked his way down, eventually arching his back upwards so he could tease her nipples with his tongue. "So very good."

She bit her lip, stifling another loud cry as his tongue flicked across her nipple, a completely surprising and exquisite sensation. Then she did cry out as he took her breast into his mouth and suckled on it, flicking his tongue across her sensitive flesh. She ran her hands from his chest to his belly, and then to the small of his back, her own hips rocking into his in time with his thrusts to bring him into her harder.

A thin sheen of sweat coated his skin as he thrust, licked and nibbled, using everything he knew about giving pleasure and humans to draw her ecstasy to it's peak and push her over it. She was so tight the friction was a nearly unbearably pleasure to hold back.

Her own movements were becoming erratic as she felt something building in her. His thrusts became harder, more urgent, and then he lightly bit her nipple and she suddenly was pushed over the edge, crying out as her sex convulsively clenched his thick cock buried deep in her.

Jazz shuddered and let go, groaning against her breast as his hips jerked, taking a life of their own to deliver his holoform seed deep into her body. Oh the energy this one would produce. More than enough to keep the Twins happy, and likely enough to feed Shimmerfire and her little ones too.

She clung to him while his erratic, jerking thrusts filled her with his ejaculate even as her own depths continued to occasionally spasm as she slowly descended from her own climax. Her gasping breaths were loud to her ears.

"I think you are a spirit who was sent by my ancestors. That is the only way I can explain this," she murmured to him, her body feeling more content than it ever had before.

Jazz hummed in contentment and stretched out on top of her to claim a soft, chaste kiss. "Perhaps I am," he didn't argue with her. "I've been called stranger things," he chuckled softly. Much less flattering things too. So innocent, and likely to remain so in many ways. "You are very pleasing to me, and I expect you will be very pleasing to the Twins as well."

He almost reluctantly pulled out, except for the fact that the sooner he got them both cleaned up, the sooner he could work on the final tests; ones that required different locations.

"Come, there is fun to be had while cleaning up as well," he murmured against her mouth before slipping off the bed and offering her a hand up. "They will expect you to bathe frequently and completely."

She reluctantly pulled herself up. Her body might wish to stay in the plush bed wrapped in his arms, but she also wanted to get as far away from Kuhn Vichai and Bangkok as she could. A sad look crossed her face as Jazz mentioned the twins. She would never be rude enough say it, but she wished that he had bought her for himself.

"May I ask you a question, Kuhn Jazz?" she spoke quietly as they entered the bathing room with its luxurious double shower, something she never could have imagined.

Her own family had no bathroom, no running water, only a two-room bamboo hut. The bathroom itself was as large as the portion of the hut where she slept with her mother and sisters and where they prepared their food.

"Yes," he said easily as he worked the controls, testing the temperature with his fingers several times before stepping inside the glass-enclosed space.

She hesitantly stepped in with him. She had probably a thousand questions to ask him. Why he had shown her so much tenderness when he hadn't bought her for himself? Why he would spend so much and then offer to let her go home? Why his eyes were such a crystal blue? Why she felt so safe with him?

She finally settled on the most obvious one. "What are the twins like?"

"They are our finest warriors, and as such are feared by many. Sunstreaker is an artist, vain and violent like few others. For him the universe resolves around him and his brother. Sideswipe is more social and enjoys tormenting others with ... you do not have the word for it. He arranges unexpected events that he and viewers typically find amusing but the target rarely does. Once they accept you, they will be doting and savagely protective of you."

She froze at his words, drawing back a little, hardly even noticing the odd names after his initial description of them. "It was soldiers...warriors who raped me, Kuhn Jazz," she said quietly and with little emotion.

He turned and brought a hand up to her face, stroking it gently. "It was a warrior who just pleasured you in the other room," he smiled with gentle understanding. "Your pleasure will be no less important to them than it is to me. I will explain further after we leave. You are welcome to ask other questions, however."

She relaxed at his touch and reassurance. It still baffled her why he was so concerned with her own pleasure. She had been told many times by her mother that even the best of men were only concerned with their own. It felt rude to ask him that, however.

The water was warm and felt amazing on her skin. Feeling bold, she reached for the soap and began to wash the man who had just made her feel things she had never felt. The girls had told her it was one of her duties after being used - that and acting like whatever he did was most wonderful thing she'd ever felt. And now, here she was, with a man she could truthfully say had made her feel as wonderful as she had ever felt before. She _wanted_ to touch him and to wash him. It did not feel like a duty.

"Are you Americans? Is that where we are going?"

"We are not Americas, though there are many of them where we are going," he hummed in pleasure at her touch. "We live on island call Diego Garcia."

She moved from washing his smooth chest to his back. "Were you born on that island, then? It is a place I've never heard of, though I don't know the names of many places."

"Ah, no, I was not born there. The city I was born in, and most that I've lived in, were destroyed by many years of war. The island is simply where we've settled and hold."

It sounded like Burma, she thought. Whole villages taken by the army, the people murdered or fleeing to Thai refugee camps, so many children taken, made pliable by drugs, and forced to fight and kill or be brutally killed themselves.

"It sounds like my country, Kuhn Jazz. You are survivor, then." She moved to washing his legs, massaging them with her hands, enjoying the firm muscles, before finally moving to wash his relaxed cock, as she had been told by Vichai's girls to do, but was now devilishly excited to touch.

"Yes, all my people are. Even the civilians are fighters, they had to be to last this long," he said, closing his eyes briefly and willing himself not to respond to her touch too much. He did want to get out of here sooner rather than later. "Only a handful of us are warriors, those raised to fight because it was what they wanted to do."

The corners of her mouth twitched in a grin as she shyly washed and explored the feel of his cock, now mostly soft. It was something she had feared so much, and now seemed almost silly and vulnerable in its flaccid state. She finally stood began to wash herself.

"You were one of those raised to fight, Jazz?"

"In a way," he said, turning his attention to washing her back. "I was raised to be more of a silent killer, one who took out an opponent and got away before anyone knew I'd been there. I don't have the body of a front line warrior. Far too small."

She grinned as he washed her in return, and said with a giggle "You don't seem small to me, Kuhn Jazz, not anywhere."

"Why thank you," he grinned playfully back. "We'll see if you still think that after you've met some of the others. I like being small. It's an advantage I make good use of."

The rest of their shower was spent in shy banter from Ma-Le, a sure sign of how relaxed she was with Jazz. He washed her ... all of her, just as she had washed him, making her gasp and rekindling her desire. But then he turned off the water and they both dried off.

Soon she was back in the dress she had been wearing along with a pair of impractical high-healed shoes, the only clothing she had.

She followed demurely out of the bedroom, two steps behind Jazz as she'd been taught.

"Khun Vichai," Jazz smiled to the businessman. "I am quite pleased with her. If you come across others with the same specifics I gave you, I will be interested in them as well. If you check your account, the rest of your fee will be in it."

Vichai gave that bright Thai smile that the nation was so well known for. His servant quickly checked the account on a blackberry and nodded to the businessman. "Very good, Kuhn Jazz. It is a pleasure to do business with you, and I look forward to doing so again. Now may I get you anything before you leave, or will you be going?"

"As pleasant as tea would be, I have a dinner meeting it would be extremely rude to be late to," Jazz put the appropriately apologetic sounds in his voice and offered a wai in parting.

Vichai returned the gesture and led them to the door, turning to take a last look at Ma-Le. "Good bye, little Zin."

Ma-Le gave the businessman a deep wai of a servant and said quietly, "I am grateful to you, Kuhn Vichai, for allowing me this opportunity." Jazz could not miss that while her words were gracious, her eyes were hard.

Then the door was shut behind them, and she was free. She followed Jazz through the hotel and out the front door where a gleaming, low-profile sleek silver car was waiting for them. He immediately slipped into the driver's seat on the curb side, and the far side door opened.

"Do get in," his smile was there, and his voice polite, but there was an eagerness to it that made it an order too.

Ma-le slid in, admiring the smooth interior and sleek lines. The only vehicle she had ever ridden in was the back of an old diesel truck on trips from her village to larger towns. Her eyes were wide, excited and nervous all at once. However, there was one thing very much on her mind that she needed to say before she lost her courage.

As they drove away from the hotel, she quietly spoke. "Kuhn Jazz, there is something you should know about Kuhn Vichai. While he never laid a hand on me, he told me that if I displeased you in any way, he would beat me so much that my beauty would be destroyed, and I wouldn't even be able to sold to a glass house. He said he would instead sell me to clients who ... murder those they purchase for pleasure. The traffickers he works with lure girls with lies. They make promises to their families that they don't keep. Three of them raped the youngest girl in front of all of us. If you wish to find other girls like me...you don't need to work with men such as Kuhn Vichai. There are so many from my village and those around us who would give anything for the chance to work for you and to be able to help their families without being afraid. All you would need to do is ask."

She felt and heard both him and the car growl, a sound of rage. "I wish I could say I'm surprised," he spoke in her native language once more. "Truly wish I could be surprised by any of it. I wish I could tell you I'd save them all. A handful, I can. I am in need of at least two more as soon as possible. Prime, our leader, may do more. He has fierce need to protect the helpless and the authority to do more than I can on my own. Before we go to your village, there are things you must see and understand about my people."

She turned to him, her expression a mixture of relief, gratitude, and awe. The strange sound from his car and everything else he said forgotten at his words about going to her village and the possibility of help. "We are going to my village? You can help us, even some of us? You really are one of the spirits." She thought for a moment, he frowned. "But Jazz, there is no way your car is going to be able to travel to my village. The roads are not even passable by truck much of the year."

"I have my ways," he said somewhat mysteriously. "Yes, if there are suitable girls I can take two, maybe three with me on this trip. How much long-term help I can provide will depend on how honestly your village leaders will speak with me. I need good information to take to Prime."

She had no doubt that he did have his ways. He surprised her at every turn. "They will be afraid," she replied seriously. "Too often when people have spoken to outsiders they have ended up disappeared or dead. But what you have done for me will help. My father is one of the elders. _He_ will speak openly with you in his own home, especially if you tell him that you are taking me to be someone's bride rather than a prostitute. I can only imagine that what you had to pay Vichai far exceeded anything my father could hope to receive as a bride price for me, and he would honor that as though it were paid to him. It would restore honor to my family and make him inclined to be honest with you."

"You are to be a bride," Jazz smiled at her warmly, honestly. "You are intended only for the Twin's bed, to see to their needs, and no one else's. Your father will receive a very good bride price for you, and the yearly stipend for taking his daughter from the village and the loss of the connections you would have provided him. That is our way. As you must realize, we have money to spend on brides."

His words finally broke her, and the tears she had held back behind her wall of quiet strength born of desperation finally began pouring. "It isn't just my family's honor you are restoring, Kuhn Jazz. You are restoring mine, and I never imagined that could happen."

Suddenly feeling very, very young, Ma-le curled in on herself, wrapping her arms around her legs and sobbing from relief, finally safe for her to grieve everything that had happened to her.

She turned toward him with a small smile despite her tears. "I'm not sure I'll ever understand why are you doing all of this Jazz, going through all the trouble to buy me from Vichai and then going back to my home to buy back my honor, not to mention saving two girls from facing the same things I have. But you may not want to mention to my father that there will be _two_ husbands. That on top of everything else is likely to cause him to die of shock."

"Then which would you prefer I speak of, the artist or the socializer?" he asked warmly, reaching out with one hand to rub her shoulder supportively as he turned into a non-descript three story building outside the city proper. If she'd been paying attention and better educated, she might have noticed that the turn he made wasn't possible given one hand, but she was far more focused on the rather rapid stop inside the large, open space.

She leaned in to his touch. "My people were renowned in generations past as fierce warriors and as artists. Speaking to my father of your artist-warrrior would fill him with pride."

In any other circumstance, the sudden stop in a strange place would have put her instantly on guard, the scenario being far too familiar to one who had been made promises and then had them turned horribly on their head. But even with the intrinsic sense of trust he inspired in her, she did become nervous.

"Where are we?" she asked, drying her tears and composing herself.

"Remember I said that there are things you need to see and understand before you make your final choice?" Jazz looked at her seriously at the passenger door opened. "This is where I show you."

Ma-le cautiously slid out and looked around the empty warehouse, suddenly feeling very frightened again. The words Vichai had spoken to her about his clients suddenly echoed in her mind, and she began to back up, wondering if this had all been some elaborate set up for a client who 'got off' on doing horrendous things to beautiful women. Suddenly it all made sense. Why else would Vichai buy a hill tribe woman bound for a low end karaoke club? Why else would Jazz buy her and gain her trust. It was part of the game to see her terror when that trust was betrayed. She began looking around her frantically for a way to escape.

"Please calm down," Jazz's voice spoke, though it was deeper, and didn't come from the man who came up behind her that she knew as Jazz. "I'm not going to hurt you. I just need you to watch."

Ma-le's panic turned to sheer terror at the deep voice coming from the direction of the vehicle she had just been in. She turned around to see the man who had been so tender toward her standing behind her, blocking her from any sort of escape. She choked back a sob, her mind frantically going through her options.

A low sigh emanated from the vehicle, then it began to break apart with a cacophony of mechanical sound.

"I'm not going to hurt you," the man said as he closed his arms gently around her and forced her to face the insanity that was happening to the car.

Ma-le screamed and would have hid her face if the man hadn't been holding her gently, but firmly, refusing to let her turn away. In front of her stood a towering silver ... something ... human shaped. It was all sharp lines and spikes and claw-like hands. The only thing that wasn't terrifying was the blue visor where eyes would be.

"Please, no, please don't kill me. Please just let me go," she sobbed.

"I'm not going to kill you, Ma-le," Jazz repeated softly, his grip firm but gentle. "I'm not going to hurt you. That's the real me, what Jazz looks like when I'm not trying to pass for a human."

She looked back and forth between the very real man who was holding her and the gigantic form in front of her. One thing was very true. Neither was hurting her, as terrifying as it was. "I don't understand," she finally sobbed again. "How can you be ... you ... and be _that_?"

"With a solid-state holographic protection system, or holoform as we call it," the man-Jazz explained as his metal counterpart knelt and smiled at her.

"Since we are not supposed to be in public in base form, this form," the metal giant motioned to himself as he came close to eye level with her. "We developed the technology to project a native-looking form for locals to interact with while the real one was nearby in alt mode, the vehicle form."

Only a few of the words he said made sense, several of them spoken in Thai or even English because there were no words for them in her own tongue. But she understood enough that somehow the man that held her was not the _real_ Jazz, though how much more real could he be? The form in front of her was. It ... he ... was trying to appear non-threatening. She finally dared to look directly at him. "Kuhn Jazz ... what are you? Who are you?"

"My race is Cybertronian. My group are the Autobots. I am second in rank, answering only to Prime. I did not lie that you would be a bride to two of our finest warriors. I did not lie once in all I have told you," the silver one answered, using Lisu where it could, Thai and English where it couldn't.

Something finally dawned on her, and she looked at Jazz ... the real Jazz, with complete confusion. "Why me? Why all this trouble just for me?"

"You, Ma-le, are not who I am doing this for. You were chosen because you are very lovely, to appeal to the artist, brought up with labor so polishing them will not be a hardship, and brought up to be submissive and polite to your husband, for it is necessary to get along well with Sunstreaker. My human argued to acquire the wives, sockets we call them, for the difficult of my kind by buying from the human traffickers. My leader approved it. You may not understand consent as he does, but we do provide a much better life and opportunities."

She considered his answer and seemed to accept it. She knew enough from the limited television she had access to that ways of respect and submission she had been brought up with would not be understood by many western women who did not have the same notions and values about family as her culture did. As her mother often said, water erodes stone more effectively than a chisel.

She had begun to relax. If Jazz had meant her harm, she felt, he would have done so before this. It also was true that both his human form and the metal form in front of her could easily take her anywhere they wished her to go, and yet she was being given explanations.

"Why would your kind need a human wife? Do you not have women among you? Do you need a human wife for your human form?"

"Do you remember when I said your pleasure is very important to my people?" the metal Jazz asked. "We feed from your pleasure. It gives us strength and life. The greater your pleasure, the more you enjoy the attentions, the more strength we receive from it."

His words brought instantly back the exquisite pleasure she had felt under his hands and body at the hotel. Without meaning to, she felt a jolt of arousal. Even as her body responded, she recalled a familiar tale in her village. "You are like the Swawmx, then, the vampire gods who feed off of the lifeforce of humans they befriend and protect. They are worshipped by my tribe, and by many others in our area."

Jazz quickly accessed his database for the reference, and found it surprisingly accurate. It would be curious to find out if the Lisu or the related Tibetan-Burmese cultures had ever been in contact with an Autobot scout. "Very much like the Swawmx," he assured her, feeling comfortable with the comparison.

"How does your kind feed off pleasure? By making love like we did at the hotel, or some other way?"

"That is certainly one way," he smiled at her. "There are many other ways. I can show you a few if you wish, or you can wait to lean from the Twins."

She considered his words for several moments. Her mind was full of contradictions. She should wait for these strange husbands, and yet it would not be fitting for her to be terrified of them. Jazz could help her with that, just as he had helped her not to fear a human male. Finally, it came down to the ways she had grown up.

"I would like for you to show me, Kuhn Jazz, if it pleases you. I do not think it would be pleasing for my new husbands to have me be terrified of them."

"No, it would not be good for you to fear them," Jazz agreed. His holoform disappeared as he shifted to lie on his side on the concrete floor and extended a hand to her. "They will be good to you, but their patience is very limited when it comes to fear and inexperience. The more eager you are, _honestly_ eager, for their attentions, the more they will like you."

She looked at the hand uncertainly. It looked so deadly, each finger more like a gigantic claw. But she reminded herself of the hotel, of his tenderness, and reminded herself that this, too, was Jazz, the real Jazz, who had promised to help her family and who had awoken her body to what it was capable of feeling.

She moved toward him and hesitantly touched one clawed finger with her own.

The touch was rewarded with another honest smile. "We feed by connecting a specialized cable to the back of your neck," he explained as he coaxed her closer and extended a cable the thickness of a large finger for her to examine. "Through it we feel what you feel, talk to you, even make you feel good."

She smiled shyly back and touched the cable hesitantly. It was warm to the touch, and soft, almost pliable in her fingers. Not at all like the metal she was used to.

"Does it hurt," she asked, "when it connects?"

"No," Jazz assured it. "It should feel quite good. May I connect?"

She looked at his visor, his smile, and made a decision to trust. She needed to _learn_ this, for the sake of everyone involved, especially her family.

"If it pleases you, Jazz."

He nodded and the cable moved from her hands of it's own accord and snaked around to the back of her neck. She felt a tingle as the tip brushed along her spine, seeking the best pace to connect.

Once again Jazz was grateful for an illegal mod. Well, not strictly illegal, but illegal for _him_ to possess. It was for scouts on long-range missions only. But then, if he was really stripped down, it was the least of his concerns. The energon blade that lived in his subspace could have him executed. This was just a metacycle or two in the brig at most.

If she had been able to watch it, she would have seen the cable sprout about a hundred microfilaments that painlessly entered her spinal cord and moved through it to various portions of her brain. What she felt as a tingle became an intense burst of pleasure in every nerve before calming into a sense that she was perceiving differently. The initial wave knocked her off of her feet, where she was easily caught by Jazz's hand.

"It should always feel similar to that," he told her when she was able to focus once more. He sent a gentle wave of pleasure across the new connection, his well-fed spark still eager for her energy.

It was as though what she had felt before, in the hotel, had simply been a hint. Even though Jazz was not touching her in any way other than to hold her, this touch felt much closer, intimate in a far different way to his human body touching hers, and far more intense. She closed her eyes and simply focused on the sensation. There was nothing frightening about it. Connected with the waves of pleasure was a sense of safety and well-being.

Without realizing she was doing so, she spoke through the connection. ~What should I do?~

~For now, simply relax, enjoy and learn what the connection and sex with an Autobot can be,~ he answered easily. The pleasure trickled across her body, a feather-light touch that was only arousing as it traveled across skin still concealed by her dress. ~Indulge in the pleasure.~

That was when she realized that he had spoken directly into her mind, and she into his. Though there were no hands moving over her, she could almost imagine Jazz's human form hands lightly caressing her body. Closing her eyes, she focused on the feeling and simply allowed her mind to take her where it would ... such a lovely and blissful escape from what life had been for so long.

~So this ... somehow feeds you? I'm not certain why you had to travel all the way to Thailand to find a wife for your twin warriors. Every daughter on your island would be begging her father to arrange such a marriage for them.~

~Unfortunately the 'daughters' on our island are mostly from Western militaries. They do not take well to the Twins and the submission they expect of their socket-wife,~ he explained as he continued to caress her, working her breasts and ass as if hands were gently squeezing and fondling them. ~Arranged marriages are strongly out of favor. So I travel to lands where such things are still common.~

She smiled and gave a relaxed humming sound at the invisible touches and squeezes, her body becoming gently aroused yet extremely relaxed at once, again reaffirming her safety.

~I've heard about that. It has always seemed rather ridiculous to me, that people think the decisions two young people might make after a moment of passion would be better than decisions their families made together. It isn't though our fathers don't keep our opinions in mind, while trying to make sure that whatever family we join with has enough to provide for our children ... not that anyone has enough any longer. And every woman in my village knows that the quietest, most submissive wife has far more influence over her husband than the one who yells and carries on like a scolding hornbill spirit.~

She realized then, as she freely spoke with this strange metal creature while he caressed her body in ways she didn't even begin to understand, that she truly did trust him.

~On the quiet one holding more power, we very much agree,~ Jazz purred against her mind. His fingers slid down her front, the claws still managing to be gentle, almost delicate in their touch. ~But I am also not all that fond of arranged marriages. It is all a mater of perspective and what the parties expect going into a relationship. If both sides agree on what they expect and what is expected, it tends to work out. It may not be the most passionate couple, but most will be happy.~

She shivered as the touches became physical, her arousal suddenly moving from relaxed to excited, nervous anticipation. No longer afraid of the fingers that stroked her, she arched into the touch ... so different from before ... yet the same tenderness.

A brief worry crossed her mind, not that it was her place to question, but he had said he had a human wife, or socket. Somehow, speaking through her mind she felt able to say things far more freely.

~Your human wife ... will she be very angry if she finds out that you have made love to me?~

~No,~ Jazz assured her, the idea clearly amusing him. ~Miles is not the possessive or jealous type. Neither is my bonded, my mate of my own kind.~

She was startled for a moment by the clear image that Jazz showed her of his mate and his human ... husband. She was honestly confused, though she smiled at him. ~Is he willing to cook for you and your mate and polish you?~

~Quite willing, though my mate prefers to cook for me,~ Jazz grinned, indulging her in a taste of the kind of passion and affection that existed between them. ~My Prowl,~ he showed her mind a glyph and strange clicking and whirring that was his bonded's true given name. ~Is very domestic in some ways, though it's more out of enjoying indulging me than any love of the act.~

She found the whole idea very amusing and laughed aloud, but her never-ending questions were interrupted by Jazz's fingers pulling the straps of her dress off of her shoulders, and then pulling her whole dress off of her.

His finger slid down, between her legs, and she felt the warmth and soft vibration press against her clit and the soft, swollen folds of her sex.

The young woman gasped as the vibrating touch sent a jolt of ecstasy from her clitoris straight up her spine, while at the same moment Jazz sent a wave of pleasure through the cable connection straight back down. A cry escaped her, echoing through the empty warehouse. Suddenly her questions were forgotten and she had no desire for anything other than learning what else the silver creature could do.


	27. HP 11: The Hill Tribes of Burma

**Fandom:** Transformers Bayverse (POV'verse)  
**Author:** gatekat and femme4jack on LJ  
**Pairing:** Jazz/Ngwa Ma-le  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Codes:** Het, Xeno (Transformer/Human), Slavery, Dub-Con  
**Summary:** Jazz takes Ma-le to visit family and perhaps pick up a couple other girls.  
**Notes:** Written in the Point of View fanverse (community .livejournal .com/tf_matrix)  
**"text"** translated Cybertronian.  
Swawmx: Possibly a deity, but definitely a being with vampiric activities, that was worshiped by the Burmese hill tribes.

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Hunting Pleasure 11: The Hill Tribes of Burma

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Two days later, after purchasing Ma-le more suitable clothing, footware and other necessities, they were approaching their destination, about 60 km south of the town of Sinbyudaing just over Myanmar border. It was a largely roadless area in the rugged hills and mountains that spanned the border between Myanmar and Thailand. The roads that did exist were little more than heavily rutted mud and dirt paths. Jazz had switched to his Cybertronian alt form as soon as they left the main roads, as any form he might choose would look completely out of place in this hard to reach area and the hover capabilities were needed.

While the rainforest still dominated this area, signs of its demise were apparent everywhere. Large swaths were missing where they had been clearcut. Slash and burn agriculture was doing its share of damage as well as families desperately sought to feed hungry bellies any way they could after the poppy trade was prohibited for anyone other than the government.

Ma-le, wearing a simple but beautiful modern Thai-style dress and sandals, was quietly telling Jazz about the area and what he could expect in her village.

"Everyone will come out to see you, even though they will be concerned that you are there, they will welcome you. We have never had a westerner come. A few other villages have had," she struggled to find the right words, "scientists who study cultures or people report for the news. My father will welcome you into the main part of our home. It is where men gather. I will go to the back room with my mother and sisters."

"I understand," Jazz nodded, his holoform in the driver's seat on the left of the vehicle. Though much of his focus was on his sensors and calculating a way to make a report that didn't send the more nature-loving mechs into a protective fit, he caught every word she said, and didn't say.

"How should we explain your alt form, Jazz? They will not believe that we have walked all this way. Or are you just going to give them all a heart attack and show your real form?" Ma-le was excited and nervous, recognizing the land around her.

Jazz chuckled. "I'm going to try to avoid showing my true form. It causes all sorts of explanations and headaches for me when I get back home. My alt is simply a fancy western vehicle your rich benefactor owns."

"That will be strange enough for them, but they'll believe it. A few who have been to the city may have their doubts, but then again, how many of them have been to rich parts of a city?" She gave an easy laugh, completely at ease now with the strange silver being who had so mysteriously decided to that a Lisu girl was the right sort of person to arrange a wedding with for a couple of twin minor deities.

"It is just over that hill, I can see the smoke from the fires."

"They've noticed us as well," Jazz commented, once again reviewing what he knew about interacting with these people so things went smoothly. He crested the hill and looked down on a small village of a score of buildings of wood and thatch. Humans in colorful dress and animals moved about.

Even with the lively colors, it was apparent that it was a village that was suffering. Sings of malnourishment could be easily scanned in people of all ages, but especially in the younger children. Also notable were how many boys Ma-le's age and younger were simply not there, having been forcibly taken for the army. There was no doubt that as vibrant as its colors were, it was a place that was slowly dying.

"There are less people than I would have expected. It seems every few months another family heads over the border, looking for work. They usually end up in some form of debt labor in factories."

"I've seen it before. There are too often no good choices and too many people willing to take advantage of it," he sighed as he pulled to a stop just outside the village and got out, leaving his real body hiding in plain sight as he glanced over to make sure that Ma-le was joining him.

She walked out, taking on her demure persona to walk several feet behind Jazz. "Ma-le!" someone called. "Ma-le is back, with a wealthy foreigner!" Suddenly questions were coming from every direction and they were surrounded by people welcoming Jazz with bright smiles and a cacophony of questions. An older man approached, those gathered making room for him.

"Ma-le, my oldest daughter. The spirits have brought you back home to us. We heard nothing from you after you left, and thought the worst. We heard later from neighboring villages how corrupt the men were that convinced you to come."

Ma-le turned to her father and gave him a deeply respectful wai. "Father, Kuzz Jazz is here to discuss important things with you."

Ma-le's father, a very traditional looking villager, placed his hand affectingly on his daughter's head, as though she were still a small child.

"You always find ways to surprise us, Ma-le. Come, friend Jazz, visit with me in my home. I will have Ma-le and her mother prepare you something to eat after your journey.

"Thank you, friend Akha," Jazz smiled warmly and offered a polite wai to an equal.

Akha led Jazz to one of the small wood frame and bamboo homes, thatched with grass on the top, and set on low stilts. It was quite dark inside, the village having no electricity other than a generator they used to power the one television shared by the village, which hadn't worked since the army had destroyed their satellite dish the last time they had come through.

The walls were decorated with the skulls of many forest animals, representing the animal spirits of those they hunted that were now in scarce supply due to the loss of habitat and the pressures of over-hunting from a people who had lost their main source of income. In the corner was a small altar with images representing the spirits and ancestors important to Akha's household and village.

Akha waited for his guest to sit on one of the mats before sitting on one himself. "Wu-Sa has smiled on us, friend Jazz, bringing a guest from far away who returns with my oldest daughter. My family is in your debt."

Meanwhile outside, Ma-le had been surrounded by women and girls from the village, while the men had surrounded Jazz's alt form to discuss and admire it. Many were metal crafters and appreciated its strange, sleek appearance.

Ma-le was grabbed by an older woman and fiercely hugged. "Mama," she said, wrapping her arms around the woman and holding her tight. "We must go and prepare food for the stranger. He rescued me from a very dangerous trafficker, and wishes to arrange a marriage for me with one of his warriors. He is second elder among his people, who are very powerful and wealthy and may be able to help us." Ma-le also gathered three younger girls to herself, her younger sisters whom she intended to spare everything she had faced in her own life.

The older woman looked at the rest of the nervous and excited looking women who had gathered. "Ma-le will tell us all the news later. Right now, she and I have work to do to welcome our guest."

Inside, Jazz smiled warmly. "You have a fine daughter, Akha. One I am here to negotiate a bride price for. She is very well suited to one of my tribe's younger warriors."

Akha raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Jazz, it is my duty to tell you that fine as my daughter is, she is not intact and that she has been a prostitute. To negotiate such a thing without informing you of her disgrace would be a horrible stain on my honor. Aside from that, a stranger has never come to our village looking for a bride, though some have come to feed off our desperation and convince us to allow our daughters to ruin their honor in order to feed their families." Akha's words were spoken politely, but his suspicion was evident. He obviously cared fiercely for his eldest daughter, and was well aware that her sacrifices to her own honor had been for the good of those she loved.

"I know she has been with others," Jazz inclined his head and met the older man's eyes steady. "I bought her from the trafficker who had her. I also understand you have little reason to trust me or my intentions, and many reasons not to. I have little to offer to counter that but to pay her bride price before we leave, and the fact that I have come with her, intent to pay her bride price even though I have already paid the trafficker for her."

Akha met his eyes, surprised at his words. "To mistrust the intentions of one who has brought her back to us is without honor, friend Jazz. You must forgive me. It is difficult for her mother to have her back, only to so soon lose her again. If you paid for her freedom, then you owe me no bride price for her. But I would know more about the young warrior you intend her for. Will he be honorable to her and provide for her and her children?"

"His name, like mine, translates poorly," Jazz began with an easy smile of reassurance. "Sunstreaker is one of our finest warriors, respected and feared for his skill with a blade and inclination to use it. He is also our best artist. In calmer times he became quite wealthy from selling his paintings. He will treat her with all honor, care and provide well for her and her children, as will his twin, Sideswipe. Our leader, Prime, will accept no less of him, or them. If something happens to them, she and hers will still be provided for by our tribe. That is also our way. Those who give life are greatly honored."

Akha's eyes lit up at Jazz's description and assurances, though he kept his voice calm and relaxed. "Your leader and I would get along well, then, Jazz. I also have no tolerance for those who abuse their women in this village, though none of us provide well for our families any longer. We have angered the spirits. Perhaps your coming is a sign that their anger with us is passing."

Akha's honor did not require him to be dishonest about how desperate his people had become. When an elder of a tribe's own daughter sold herself to traffickers to help them through the season, there was very little use trying to hide anything. He knew his village, perhaps his whole culture, was heading toward its demise.

"What you describe sounds far better than what I could have hoped for any of my daughters in these times. One knows he has reached the end when he watches his oldest daughter sell herself to traffickers in order to provide what he should be able to give to his family."

In the adjoining room, Ma-le, her mother and sisters were listening as they prepared food and tea. Ma-le had wasted no time explaining nearly everything to her mother other than the silver form her benefactor assumed when he was truly 'himself'. "His tribe are all Swawmx," she had whispered to her mother while they worked. "The vampire gods, feeding off our pleasure, which they can create in ways that are beyond imagination. He wishes to find brides among us for the youngest and strongest of his warriors because western women are too strident for them and do not know how to shape their men through quiet submission. And they are wealthy, and plan to pay well for Lisu daughters. And though we must not tell father this, I am two marry *twins*"

Her mother might have believed it to simply be another broken promise had she not seen the strange vehicle her daughter had arrived in, along with her beautiful clothes and relaxed expression.

"Your father is going to end up with a whole stanza in the ancestor song. His daughter leaving in shame as a prostitute, and returning as a bride intended for a god!" Ma-le's mother shook her head in disbelief. "Allying our people with the Swawmx could make the difference for us forever. It has been so long since any of the spirits have been on our side."

Jazz, of course, heard it all, and the murmurings of those still outside admiring his Cybertronian alt mode. It helped the honest smile remain of his features. "I have no doubt that your daughter will influence her husband to have us intervene on your behalf, if for no reason other than to keep him from doing it himself," he chuckled softly at his own thoughts of the Twins giving Prime an ultimatum; either help these people or they'd do it their way. "I find her charming and very pleasant, even when she wants something. I expect she will do very well with her intended husband. He has a temper, but he is easily soothed by one of her manner."

Akwa smiled at the praise. "Friend Jazz, you truly give me hope to believe that the spirits are with us again. She _will_ do fine with a husband with a temper, having learned from her mother. My wife has soothed my own many times. I am honored that you find her suitable for one of your finest warriors. We will send her with the best we can provide her with from our home."

He looked at Jazz more seriously. "I am sure you are aware of how truly desperate things have been here for so many years. I may be an elder of a tribe that the leaders of this country considers primitive and of no value, but I am educated and literate, and my son is becoming so as well thanks to what my daughter's sacrifice provided for us. We both know that only a change in the government here will truly give our people any hope, whether we are able to keep our ways or not. While the military here remains in power, it is not just the Lisu who will suffer. All the people will. But let us discuss this over tea and a meal."

At those words, Ma-le entered the room carrying two clay cups of fragrant tea which she set before each of the men before returning to the other room. Shortly after she returned and sat a platter of rice and curry vegetables with a few pieces of pork in front of Jazz, their entire supply for the day. Again she quietly returned to the room where her mother waited anxiously beside the curtained doorway to listen.

"Eat, Jazz. I am not hungry. I already have taken my meal, but will join you for tea," Akwa graciously offered.

"Please join me in eating, if it is not too offensive to your honor," Jazz put just a bit of hopeful understanding in his voice. "It is considered ill manners in my tribe to eat while others watch."

He really did want the family to have at least most of their food for the day. Even if he'd had *any* use of the biological sustenance, they needed it far more than he did. Their honor demanded he be fed first, but honor could be used both ways.

Pit-spawned moralities that Prowl had infected him with.

Granted, he'd be doing much of this on Prime's orders, but it made him want to twitch when he started to _invent_ reasons to play hero.

~I never asked you to,~ Prowl's voice was completely even, but the wash of affection and approval that came with it was nearly enough to make Jazz sigh in resignation.

He knew what he was getting into by the time they'd bonded. He knew, roughly, what it would do to each of them.

~It doesn't make it any less irritating when you are reminded you are no longer free to do as you please without a care,~ Prowl finished the thought.

~Yeah, now let me get back to work,~ Jazz grumbled at him.

~You are simply irritated by being away from our socket so soon after claiming him,~ Prowl countered.

~And you're with him,~ Jazz growled in frustration.

~Actually, I was required to remain on base to deal with the UN Assembly and our status as an independent nation. Miles went by himself.~

It took all of Jazz's self control not to show his response in his holoform or alt mode. ~How long?~ he demanded tensely.

~At least four more days,~ Prowl sighed. ~Likely much longer. You will no doubt join him before I do.~

~I've got a bad feeling about this,~ Jazz murmured before focusing fully on his environment again.

Akwa was well aware of Jazz's intentions. It was clear the stranger understood the deeper realities of what he saw around him. For his own sake, he couldn't accept Jazz's offer, but for the sake of his two youngest children, he could play the honor card in a different manner, allowing his guest to take just a little.

"Ah, forgive me, friend. But I truly am not hungry. However, if you have already eaten today, you will not insult us by taking but a little. Anything that is left will not go to waste."

His wife would be silently furious with him, but sometimes customs needed to make way for reality.

"Thank you," Jazz inclined his head in acceptance of the counter offer, and began with a sip of tea. "Tell me, what form would be most useful to you for Ma-le's bride price? I have brought kyat, though I can change it to goods, animals or favors if they would be of more value to you."

"Ah, as I said before, I will honor what you paid to the trafficker. It is honor enough to have her go to such a fine warrior. Though if you wish to negotiate for another girl from our village, I could arrange such a conversation with her father. I could even have you meet our middle daughter. If you found her acceptable, she could return to your village as well."

From the next room came a roughly muffled giggle of delight from what must have been Ma-le's middle sister, whom Ma-le had been filling in on all of the fun to be had when a Swawmx was one's lover.

Jazz smiled and nibbled lightly on a bit of the rice, paying attention to leave the most nutritious items on the plate, as he gave the appearance of thinking it over. "While I would like to meet the other girls, I truly must insist on paying you a suitable bride price for Ma-le. My leader sent me with clear instructions that her family be compensated, regardless of where I originally found her."

Akwa smiled in return. The strange foreigner knew how to play the game well. "I would not wish to cause you problems with your leader, friend. If his honor insists on it, I will make sure that the whole village benefits from compensation. Kyat would be the most helpful for the village as a whole, and it is more easily hidden from the army or police than other things they might take."

"Then the kyat I have brought will be what you receive," Jazz said easily, judging the four bites of rice he had eaten should be enough to satisfy the honor of his host without impacting how much the family would eat. "I hope it serves your village well in surviving. Knowing her intended and his twin as I do, the most difficulty I see will be keeping them from sending too many gifts in the coming years. I am all too familiar with the line between easing hardship and making one a target."

Akwa inclined his head. "Thank you, friend. I appreciate your understanding of the realities we face. We do not speak of it widely, but we do have a satellite phone in the village that my son obtained for us, if you would have any reason to contact us or if my daughter wished to speak with her mother. It will be a shock to her, I am sure, to be so far from her family. If there was any other information your leader might need about the situation here or elsewhere, we would be happy to provide it."

Implicit in his statement was that Akwa and his son were an active part of the resistance to one of the world's most ruthless military regimes.

Jazz's smile shifted slightly, from merely polite to keenly interested with an almost predatory edge. "I understand. I am sure that Prime will be interested in speaking with you. What the media and satellites tells us is all well and good, but there is no intel like that from a native in the area. Myanmar aggravates him greatly in its treatment of people."

Behind the curtain, Ma-le, her mother and her sisters were listening intently, well aware of the serious turn the conversation had taken. Ma-le's mother held her eldest daughter close, realizing just how much was as stake in this particular alliance of tribes.

Akwa nodded to Jazz in understanding. "It will be my honor to give him any information from inside our nation which is helpful, as it is an honor to have you in my home, Jazz. If you are done with your meal, would you be interested in meeting any of the other young women from our village, to see if any would be of interest to your warriors?"

"Yes, I have eaten my fill," Jazz stood with his naturally supple grace. "I would like to meet the young women."

On cue, Ma-le's mother gave a little nudge to their middle daughter to enter the main room and collect what remained of the food. Bearing a great deal of resemblance to her elder sister, the 14 year old girl gracefully collected the plate and clay cups.

"Suu-kyi, stay for a moment," her father said. Ma-le quickly came in and took the dishes from her sister, offering a shy smile to Jazz before returning through the curtain.

"This is my second daughter, Suu-Kyi. She is fourteen and has been a great help to her mother since Ma-le left in helping to care for her younger sisters. Suu-Kyi, please great Jazz, who is the second elder of his tribe. He is arranging a marriage for your sister to their young warrior Sunstreaker."

It was quite obvious that Ma-le had been filling her sister's ears with tales. The girl was blushing furiously as she gave a deep wai to Jazz and quietly said, "Ali nga?" the equivalent of "Sawatdee-kah" in her own language.

"Atdor nat niaq nga," Jazz said and inclined his head in acknowledgment of her greeting and her status as a child. She was certainly pretty enough, and would grow into looks similar to Ma-le. If Mirage didn't already have a socket, he would have seriously considered her for the noble. As it stood, if the Twins got along well with Ma-le, she may do well with them as well. Though the sibling lovers the Twins liked to indulge in tended to go over less well with organics that weren't raised into it.

Still, there were many mechs that would find the idea quite agreeable, and would definitely find her agreeable.

He stepped around her, taking in her looks, her structure, her manners. From his alt mod he scanned her for disease, genetic conditions, fertility and probable lifespan.

When he came around before her again, his expression was serious. "I am sure you sister filled your ears with tales of pleasure, all of them true," his mouth quirked in a smile. "There will also be much work to do. A house to keep, a great deal of metal to keep polished, and depending on who you are chosen for," _Primus did he hate saying that, when it was the other way around in reality_. "There will be other duties to assist them in their duties. Your sister is intended for a warrior, but there are also hunters, crafters, leaders and other specialists in need of a pretty, quiet, pleasant wife."

The girl looked at her father, as though asking if she should speak. He nodded at her, the corners of his mouth raised in a smile. "My sister and I are both accustomed to hard work, Kuhn Jazz. There is not a daughter in our village who is not."

"That is good to hear," he nodded, his smile a little more real. "It will be four years before you can marry into our tribe. The agreements that give me the freedom to move that I do, also restricts who I can return with."

Ma-le felt a burst of disappointment at the news. Having _someone_ from her village with her, especially her sister, would have eased her loneliness in a place that was sure to be so different from anything she'd known. As her sister was dismissed from her father's presence, she pulled her close. "He liked you, little one, and you can join me in four years, perhaps sooner if anything changes."

Ma-le's story will continue in the series Sunny Side Up, ch. 8.


	28. Hunting Pleasure 12: Miles Away

**Fandom:** Transformers Bayverse (POV'verse)  
**Author:** gatekat and femme4jack on LJ  
**Pairing:** Miles Lancaster/Jazz/Prowl, Miles Lancaster/Flitfire, Miles Lancaster/Skywarp  
**Rating:** NC-17 for mech/male  
**Codes:** Slash, Xeno (Transformer/Human), Dub-Con  
**Summary:** When Miles meets his mom and sister in Costa Rica in order to have a "family reunion" with the newly discovered Lancaster sibs, all hell breaks lose for the newly claimed socket.  
**Notes:** Written in the Point of View fanverse (community .livejournal .com/tf_matrix)

Since An Cailin Rua's Tricolora series is my (femme's) inspiration for Miles (and Wheeljack), I thought I'd use her names for Miles' mom and sis.

I (Gatekat) am using the Bayverse toys and comics as the guideline here, mixed with a bit of G1 history. Skywarp is the brilliant scientist of the trine, not Starscream. He's not much of a warrior though, and definitely not the prankster and brute of G1/G2. Thundercracker does not like him much either.

**"text"** translated Cybertronian.

* * *

****

Hunting Pleasure 12: Miles Away

* * *

Miles sat on the beach on a warm tropical evening, one arm around his mom, Ceres, and the other wrapped over his sister, Veronica's shoulder. Down the beach he could see Asuncion with her 3-year-old daughter, playing in the waves. That had been a real surprise right there. The half sister he had expected to be at least 8 years younger than himself had turned out to be his age. His mom hadn't explained that part on the phone. Asuncion had been born just a few weeks after he had been. Apparently his dad's business trips hadn't always been strictly business. But meeting their Costa Rican counterparts had been mostly fun. He and Veronica tended to get along with just about anyone, and both had the ability to get their mom to relax and have fun.

Unfortunately, Miles smile really was only skin deep. He was enjoying being with family, sure. Hanging out and talking with Veronica and Asuncion into the late hours had made him feel normal again. But, his whole body felt agitated, like something was trying to crawl out of his skin. His socket had an annoying electric feeling tingle that he swore made his mouth taste like metal. Prowl had warned him that as a newly claimed socket it would be unsettling for him to be away from either his mechs for more than a few days (as would they from him), and had even suggested the Miles delay the trip when it became apparent that Prowl would not be able to accompany him due to issues at the UN meetings. He suggested that Miles wait until Jazz had returned from Thailand, and then go. But Miles did not want to miss any of the time that he would get to spend with his mom and sister, and delaying had meant only seeing them for a day or two. So in the end, Miles went alone ... or at least alone as one could be with a couple of NEST soldiers always watching from a discrete distance. It was worth the discomfort, seeing his lovely ladies again, listening to Veronica go on about her classes and her love life, and listening to his mom go on and on about Veronica. The Costa Rican siblings were great - welcoming them with warm hospitality into the small private resort Miles' dad apparently had started.

Miles shook back a shiver as the unsettled tingle ran down his spine once more, giving his mouth that metallic aftertaste. Apparently is had something to do the nanites hard at work trying to solidify a bond that couldn't be solidified with a whole ocean between an organic and his mechs. He had told his mom and sis about his new boyfriends, and being the accepting types they were, they were simply bummed they would have to wait several days just to meet one of the two when Jazz arrived. As if on cue, his phone buzzed, and he stepped away to a quieter spot.

"Hey sexy, how did things go?" the blond said to the silver mech on the other end.

"Very well," Jazz all but purred, his voice coming across far too clear for any human communications network. "I got the girl, made some contacts, plotted the downfall of a regime and am looking forward to dragging Prowl away from those meetings for a few joor before heading down to make _very_ sure all those pretty ladies know you are _mine_."

"Mmmm I'm looking forward to that, but remember that all these pretty ladies are my sisters, so you really don't have much to worry about, not that I mind it when you mark your territory, dude."

The low engine rumble of a turned on Jazz responded, and beyond it a curious female sounding noise. "I am going to mark you till you can't walk," he promised hotly.

Miles felt all those little nanite tingles that had been annoying the hell out of him the last couple of days suddenly turn into little horny nanite tingles. Pavlov smiled again as Miles was instantly up and at attention.

"Damn babe ... how long will it be till you are here? And who is that in the background? Is there some girl I'm gonna to need to make very sure knows that _you_ are mine, or did you decide just to say fuck-it to the twins and bring her home for us? Cause I'd be cool with that."

Jazz laughed. "If they don't like her, I'm quite inclined to keep her, but they get first dibs. And two days, maybe less if I can wheedle a ride out of Skyfire. Might even manage to drag Prowler along," he added sultrily.

Miles smirked, "I hope you can drag him away. Wish I was there to make it a combined effort. I really _was_ looking forward to his promises about playing with his holoform. So ... did you ... you know ... give her a good taste of what she can expect from the twins? You know, make her polish..." massive disorientation suddenly turned his world, and it felt like his body, inside out and upside down before going into other dimensions of not right.

When he managed to focus again, his hand was empty and he was laying very still on a metal surface. The first thing that flashed through his mind was medbay, but it was the wrong color.

"Shit," he muttered, looking around. He spotted berths and a bunch of equipment he didn't recognize. For some reasons it still hadn't occurred to him to be afraid. Maybe he had gotten hurt somehow, and was on a different part of base that he hadn't been in. Wheeljack's lab. Yeah ... maybe he was in the scientist's lab for some reason he had yet to fathom or had forgotten. Where had he been before that moment, anyhow? Talking to Jazz ... somewhere ... about a girl ... and polish.

"Hello?"

"So you are conscious again," a deep, sorta-kinda-avian like voice drew his attention to a mech sitting on the far side of the table ... berth ... desk ... yes, it was likely a desk.

Lack of recognition hit first. That was always a bad thing.

Then semi-recognition from memories Prowl and Jazz had shared of Cybertron. Not a designation, but there was a definite match to a classic frametype.

A Seeker. Painted black and purple.

_Ok brain_ Miles thought. _Seeker. Unknown Seeker = bad. Like Con bad. Like I'm probably gonna die bad. What the hell is a little fleshy guy supposed to do when he is going to die? Sam would run like hell and then find some way to destroy this fucker. _

Miles grinned, "Yeah dude, I'm awake. Who are you?"

It said something in what Miles was sure was a _very_ different dialect of Cybertronian than Prowl and Jazz used. It was much more song-like with pitch, whistles and clicks dominating the rhythm. "Skywarp will do," it shifted to English.. "You are Miles Lancaster. NEST civilian."

"Well, nice to meet you, Skywarp. I don't need to introduce myself cause you already know who I am. So ... you gonna kill me or something? Just kind of curious, you being one of the bad dudes and all. Though it seems like a pretty huge effort just to get me here if you were just gonna squish me."

Miles wondered where in the hell his complete nonchalance was coming from, and decided that he must be so terrified that he wasn't feeling anything any longer. Or else the brain damage thing wasn't a joke.

The Seeker cocked his head and regarded Miles with a look that only reinforced the bird-of-prey theme in Miles' mind.

"Squishing you would be a waste of resources," Skywarp said instead. "I did go to a fair amount of trouble to acquire you alive, after all. If you cooperate, I will see to your needs. If you do not, I will learn what I wish by live dissection."

_Ok, death not completely eminent, but live dissection = not cool at all. Why the fuck don't I have any Allspark super powers. Sam fucking sucks. And wouldn't this be a good time to start begging for mercy or warning him that my big bad boyfriends are going to hurt him if he hurts me. Shit ... Jazz ... Prowl must be really freaking out right now._

"I'm not really that big into live dissection. The last time it happened really sucked for me. So ... why in the world would you go through all this trouble to acquire a NEST civilian who has absolutely no clue what goes on at base other than the parties he happens to be in charge of throwing?"

"NEST because they are the only ones with sockets installed," the black Seeker motioned towards his neck with a long, slender clawed finger. "Civilian because you are far more likely to cooperate than your military counterparts," Skywarp explained with a shrug, though his glowing ruby optics, so very much like Shimmerfire's, never left Miles. "Now come here."

Whatever force of nature or socket induced brain damage had kept Miles from feeling afraid was suddenly gone. Suddenly he was very much afraid. He thought for moment about Prowl and Jazz, and asked their little voices in his head what he should do. Both immediately said _cooperate_.

_Not like ya can do a thing ta keep him from taking what he wants anyhow, kid_ head-Jazz commented.

_And cooperation gives you a 13.486% greater probability of survival until we can somehow get to you or secure your release by another means._ head-Prowl added while looking at his data pad.

_Do I want to know how probable my survival is?_ head-Miles asked.

_Nope, probably not a good question, dude,_ Jazz said with a sad looking smile.

Miles got up cautiously and walked toward the deadly weapon on wings.

Wide, thin black wings rustled a bit, then settled as Skywarp interlaced his fingers under his chin. "You will tell me what you know of the sockets and how you strengthen the Autobots with them."

Miles sat down cross-legged on the desk in front of the seeker and for some ungodly reason mimicked his pose, interlacing fingers and all.

"Well, my understanding is that the better I feel, emotionally and physically, the more it strengthens their sparks. So, if one of the big dudes plugs in to me, usually we will engage in some sort of sexual activity that leads me to feel very, very good, or he will stimulate my nervous system to make me feel the same sort of thing, and then I can sort of see ... or sense that energy going into the big dudes spark. And that feels really good, and usually the big dude will overload and it sort of starts this feedback loop of good feelings that keep on feeding the spark."

"Show me," the Seeker lowered one of his arms and snaked a cable from his wrist.

It occurred to Miles at that moment that he'd just been claimed, and hadn't there been something in the orientation about claimed sockets not being able to share with others unless the sharing protocols were activated in the nanites. Of course, knowing who claimed him, it was quite possible that sharing protocols were on permanently

"I'm totally happy to show you, dude. I like being alive and all. But, I was just claimed, so I'm not sure it will work."

A sharp talon tapped the desktop and ruby optics narrowed. "What does claimed mean?" he rumbled from his turbines.

A small suicidal part of Miles brain wanted to get snarky with the seeker. How long had these guys been at war? Did he seriously not know this stuff? Hadn't sharing and sockets and claiming been happening for vorns before the war even started?

Head Prowl gave him a warning shake of his head before looking back down at his datapad and head Jazz mouthed the word "cooperate".

"When one, or two in my case, of the big guys want to share with a little dude long term, they mark the little guy with nanite thingies that make changes to our DNA and stuff and make those string ... things ... vibrate with their sparks."

_Ok...that was a shitty explanation. Did head Prowl really just roll his optics at me? Give me a break, head Prowl. I'm fucking terrified here and am probably going to die._

"And this affects your ability to provide energy with others in what way?" the Seeker asked with surprising patience.

Miles took a deep breath and tried to clear his head and think about the explanations that had been given to him when he led orientations and classes. He hoped to God that talking about this was not somehow putting his friends at risk, but he knew that the information could easily be ripped from his brain without a second thought. Jazz had told him in no uncertain terms just how easy it was to get into an organic mind, socket or no. The comforting, if imaginary, presences in his mind reminded him that survival was the issue at hand.

"What I understand is that somehow the nanites can block a Cybertronian's ability to feed off of the pleasure of an organic unless the one who has marked him or her activates the nanites' sharing protocols. I have no idea if my sharing protocols have been activated, so I have no idea if I can share energy with anyone else at this point. We have discussed sharing with others and are all are open to it, but not whether they actually activated those protocols. Normally, from what I understand, the protocols are not activated unless another Autobot requests permission for them to be, the mech who has claimed him or her agrees, and the organic gives consent."

Skywarp narrowed his optics again and his arm was raised to interlace his fingers once more. His wings flicked sharply upwards before he settled them. "And who are those that claimed you?" his voice became harder, definitely irritated and now suspicious.

The terror that remained relatively frozen in Miles' belly began to de-thaw and inch its way into the rest of his body at the tone and expression of the seeker. Head Prowl and Jazz were suddenly far too silent.

"I was claimed last week by Prowl and Jazz," he said simply, looking straight at the narrowed red optics.

Even without understanding a word in the next fluid spat of sounds that came from Skywarp, Miles had absolutely no doubts the mech was cursing up a storm. The Seeker stood in a sweeping motion and stalked over to another table. Despite his growing terror, part of his mind noted that the Seeker's Cybertronian base form was much more stable and human-like than Starscream's current Dorito-shaped look.

Skywarp slammed his fist down and snapped something in Cybertronian before turning to stalk back to the desk Miles was sitting on.

The Seeker's reaction did not surprise Miles, though it did further terrify him. The dude put some effort to get him, only to find out that he possibly could not do as he had planned ... which ... Miles thought sadly, might very well mean he was now useless to the Decepticon for any further purposes other than the promised live-autopsy. He didn't know whether to hope that the protocols had not been activated, saving him from what was likely _not_ to be a pleasant experience, or to hope they _had_ been activated, making him still useful enough to keep alive.

The Jazz in his head winked his visor mysteriously. Miles just gave him a sad look. _It was nice while it lasted, dudes_ he said quietly in his head to the two. Head Prowl looked up from his datapad with an unreadable expression.

_Cooperate,_ head-Jazz reminded him. _Survive by any means necessary._

_I'll try,_ Miles said to the two mechs in his head, _to survive, that is._

The Seeker began to bring devices over to the desk that Miles was sitting on, powering them up and checking settings for the few moments it took the door to chime, then open to reveal a small mech, not even Bumblebee's size, that looked at least as afraid as Miles felt.

Skywarp spat at it in Cybertronian and the small mech came up to the desk and climbed up to sit next to Miles. The Seeker wasted no time in hooking up the devices he'd brought over to the new mech, even opening its chest plates to make connections to the spark chamber to monitor the pulsing lavender spark inside.

"Connect," the Seeker looked at the small mech while pointing at Miles. "Pleasure it."

A cable snaked out from the mech's wrist, pausing for a moment as it tried to work out just how or where to plug in.

Miles tensed. He had no idea of what to expect, only that the small white mech also appeared frightened and exposed with his chest plates open and his spark revealed. Taking pity on him, and trying to appear as cooperative as possible, Miles lifted up his hair and indicated the socket there, noting that both of his hands were shaking.

The cable snaked into place and connected. He felt the other mech, utterly terrified of the Seeker staring at them. It ... he ... Flitfire ... struggling to work out just how to 'pleasure it' as ordered. Somehow it helped Miles settle down, knowing that the little 'Con was terrified, too.

~Dude, calm down,~ Miles focused on sending his thoughts to the other's mind in an orderly way. They _both_ needed to calm down. ~Doesn't seem like either one of us has a choice about this fucked up situation. Can you identify my pleasure centers through my nervous system? If not, we'll have to do this the old fashioned way.~ Miles tried his best to _show_ the Flitfire what Prowl had done the first time they'd connected and Prowl had simply sent pulses through the connection.

A hesitant, very low-power pulse of energy caressed the nerve cluster at the head of his cock. Enough to feel, but not enough to overwhelm him.

Miles sent his encouragement. It seemed as though the nanites were going to allow this, which was probably for the best, all things considered.

~That was fine, and it seems to be working. You can just keep doing that, perhaps a little stronger and faster, and it should do the trick.~

The small white Con mode a small physical movement and seemed to gain confidence. His pulses didn't explore much, not like the Autobots he'd been with, and absently Miles wondered if the little Con had ever had a lover. Still, Flitfire did as instructed, increasing the power and frequency of his pulses.

A low moaning sound escaped the Con at the feedback, the strengthening of his spark even at this small bit of energy.

Miles closed his eyes, trying to focus on the pleasurable sensations rather than the inherent fear and awkwardness that came with the situation. It wasn't amazing, but it was doing its job. He was becoming hard and aroused, in a sort of clinical way with no emotion attached. He thought about touching himself to help things along, but remembered very quickly that was not what Skywarp had ordered.

It was very clear that the Flitfire's spark was ravenously hungry. Miles could feel it frantically reaching for something it had never had before, the sweet life that came from pleasure rather than pain. He wondered briefly if there were generators wherever they were, and if so, what kind of organic creatures were inside.

He was nearly startled when he felt a hand not that much larger than his own press against his groin experimentally. This time it was Miles' turn to moan, as though his body were relieved to have something to focus on outside of the inherent terror of his situation.

He was still wearing his Bermuda-style swim trunks from the beach, and nothing else. ~Dude, if you take those off and keep doing what you are doing, along with the impulses, I will likely come pretty fast,~ Miles sent helpfully, trying to encourage Flitfire, who at this point, he decided, was keeping them both alive. He sent the white mech a few other helpful images as suggestions - nothing outlandish, just things that would get the job done fast.

The small white mech nodded and removed his swim trunks deftly, then closed his fingers around Miles' cock, stroking it in time with the pulses as a small cable circled the head and teased the slit. Though it all, Miles was acutely aware of how good this felt to the mech. Very much like a first time, Flitfire was more than ready to lose it already. He was only holding back the overload because he knew full well Skywarp expected the human to peak first.

~Focus on what you are feeling through me, dude~ he said to the 'Con. ~Let that guide you. If it is feeling good to you, if it is feeding your spark, then it is feeling good to me. I'll try to relax and help it along.~

Miles closed his eyes, trying to pretend he was on the beach in Costa Rica with his lovers and not on the desk of a Seeker who at any moment could decide he was of no more use. Head-Jazz decided to be tremendously helpful at that moment, and began using his devastating glossa on Miles' cock, while head-Prowl quickly prepared his ass before thrusting in with a groan. Miles almost giggled when he noticed that head-Prowl was still reading his datapad. _you dudes are the best imaginary friends ever, you know that?_ Miles commented, probably confusing the hell out of the 'Con, before he came hard with a cry.

He felt the Con startle before he overloaded with a chittering-keen, his spark thrilling with an ecstasy it associated as _youth_. Only belatedly, as he calmed down, did Miles realize that Skywarp was not only watching them, but watching the instruments. He felt a sensor sweep over him, scanning deeper than Ratchet ever had. It felt as invasive as anything Flitfire had done.

The Seeker was still muttering to himself over the readings when the human and smaller mech ... an Insecticon Miles had picked up ... had recovered.

Miles cautiously checked on Flitfire. The connection was still there; the vivid awareness of a newly fed spark, hungering for _more_ was still there as well. The Insecticon said nothing to him through the link, however, and as tempted as Miles was to say something about the two of them blowing this joint and his finding Flitfire a nice socket of his own somewhere, he kept those thoughts firmly on his side of the link, where he could not sense the 'Con probing at all.

His body was still tingling painfully from the invasive sensor scan that had quickly taken away any sense of well being the sharing with Flitfire had given him. He had to consciously force himself not to say any of the dozens of snarky, sarcastic things to Skywarp that were on his mind. The imaginary presence of Prowl had a strong inhibiting effect on his brain to mouth reflex. Instead, he regarded Skywarp steadily as he sat naked on the desk.

The Seeker eventually seemed to accept whatever his instrumentation told him and disconnected Flitfire before sending the small Con away with a flick of his wing.

"Now," Skywarp sat and faced Miles with a cable snaking out from his wrist. "Let's try this again."

Miles hated that his fear was also mixed with a moment of arousal and cursed his body for betraying him that way. There was nothing arousing about this. He had no choice ... other than the choice not to cooperate and therefore die a little sooner. It didn't help that his brain was reminding him that even as a claimed socket, his life wasn't truly worth the effort and danger it might take to rescue him. He'd be missed, yes, but he was one of several billion other potential sockets, and it just didn't make sense for anyone to risk themselves trying to rescue him.

_Don't go there,_ head-Jazz said gently. _Despair ain't gonna help ya survive, kid._ Head Prowl continued to work diligently on something on his datapad, and for the first time it occurred to Miles that something might have to do with him. Why it mattered so much to him what the imaginary dudes in his head were doing, he didn't know. But it comforted him and gave him the courage to take the offered cable.

"Sure thing, Seeker-dude," he simply said, and plugged it in to the back of his neck.

He felt the raw, unfettered power and sense of flight and sharp winds he had imagined when it looked like he'd share with Shimmerfire only a couple weeks before. Was it really only two weeks? Well, maybe three. But still...

Skywarp's mind, unlike the young one's, was sharp, analytical in a trained way and still going a hundred places at once. Only a couple of those threads were trained on Miles, but that was all it took to brush power along every pleasure-nerve in Miles' entire body.

Miles screamed, not from pain, but from the glorious attack on his entire nervous system. He just as quickly hated himself for it, even knowing he had no choice and would feel whatever Skywarp wanted him to feel.

He was instantly hard again, his chest heaving with labored breaths just from the first onslaught that had left him in fetal position on the desk. The imaginary silver figure in his head held him from behind and told him to simply relax and pretend he was anywhere else, with anyone else. Miles choked back a sob.

Another rush of pleasure hit him, the feeling of a spark, an old, fiercely determined spark, feeding in a way it had never imagined possible, hit him almost as hard as the pulse of pleasure.

Above him Skywarp groaned, his body reacting to the energy flooding his spark as intensely as what he forced on the little organic. Without hesitation the black Seeker retracted his interface panel and extended his spike.

Miles tried to relax. Tried to remember that what he was feeling actually felt _good_, but couldn't get past the sense that somehow something was being sucked out of him, not the sweetness of when it was freely given. He tried to keep his eyes shut and imagine he was somewhere else, but he clearly heard the all to familiar sound of an interface panel opening and spike pressurizing and his eyes would not obey him.

The black Seeker was leaning back in his chair, his wings quivering, optics closed and mouth open slightly in a raw, brand new kind of ecstasy to him. The hand not connected to Miles was below the table, and even as distracted as he was, Miles could place the jerking movements of that arm and the timing of the bolts of pleasure forced on his systems as the Seeker stroking himself.

Miles body was jerking from the relentless onslaught of stimulation to his pleasure centers. He became aware at that moment of how _careful_ his lovers actually were of his body and mind, giving him only what he could handle, even if what he could handle felt so good that he passed out. This was something entirely different. It was use, pure and simple. It was the feeling of being a tool worked relentlessly, with no care of what was left of his mind at the end. For the very first time, his ongoing joke with his lovers seemed to have some basis in reality ... this stimulation truly could break his mind.

Skywarp's vents began to work heavily, his pleasure leaking over into Miles relentlessly, giving the human a sense of just how intense, and exactly how it was intense, for the mech feeding from him.

Electrocution was the only thing he could compare it too. When he experienced overloads with his lovers, even Sideswipe, it had been carefully, almost instinctively censored to something that he could comprehend as pleasure. What was happening inside the Seeker was pleasure to the mech, but to the human...

To Miles, the spark that was feeding on him felt ruthless, taking what it needed. He could only hope at this point that what was being taken from him was second rate ... that without the sweetness of true sharing it was but a pitiful mockery of what he had been able to share with others.

As the intensity built, Miles began to sob and mouth the word no. No ... the Seeker would have no more pleasure from him. He would only have pain as the nerves in his body finally surged past that point where it was not clear where one ended and the other began. Even as that surge hit him, his body again betrayed him with a brutal, undesired climax.

He heard Skywarp screech his overload a moment later, his spark swollen and sending strength to his body as it hadn't since his youth.

**"Oh Primus,"** Skywarp breathed, the connection allowing Miles to hear it in English as well. **"No wonder the Autobots are so aggressive about keeping organics. That's addictive."**

A thought slipped through the connection before Miles had the chance to stop or censor it.

~If it is so addictive, why take down your entire civilization trying to keep it from happening in the first place? Why use the generators at all?~

He instantly tried to block his thoughts.

Skywarp chuckled, an ugly, chilling sound, and leaned down to look at Miles more closely. "For the same reason your people outlaw so many drugs. Addictive things are rarely good for people in the long run. It may provide great strength, but to become addicted to it is a great weakness."

There were many answers to that one, Miles considered. He did not actively share his response, but knew the Seeker could read them in him if he wished to.

If the Decepticons couldn't live without the generators, wasn't that also a form of addiction? Wouldn't it be preferable to have the addiction that was far more pleasurable, gave better energy, and allowed one to last longer between charges?

But the generators were _things_, like a bed. This, even at the level Skywarp was doing, forced the mech to acknowledge the organic as alive and even if not a person, as something that had needs that had to be supplied.

Miles shivered in his nudity and the abuse of his nervous system when the Seeker disconnected. Suddenly he was scooped up and placed in clear box along one wall. In careful English, 'Recharge' was written above a pile of soft ... something. 'Waste' was written above a box large enough to sit on.

As he looked around, he realize that he wasn't the only organic in Skywarp's collection. A creature with chocolate brown feathers and a generally avian appearance was below him to the right. A feline larger than a tiger but with the general appearance of a lion with a thick flame-red mane and emerald green stripes on a black pelt was above him on the left. Directly below him, but also below the avian's cage level was the largest serpent he'd ever contemplated with iridescent scales.

He curled up on the soft pile in fetal position, wondering how old the others were? How long had they been held? Is this what his _extended_ life would be?

"Any of you dudes speak English?" he asked, hopefully, from where he was curled up.

While all three creatures turned to look at the noise coming from their new companion, the hisses, rumbles and clicks he received dimmed his hopes for conversation. The avian paid him the most attention, and in turn he noticed that it had a far larger cage than the others. It was large enough to fly in, at least a little. He didn't have long to see that before his focus went back to the feathered resident and it clicked that this wasn't the cute, playful, rather harmless avian like Wheeljack's Red.

This was a bird of prey.

Miles regarded the creature, staring at him with obvious intelligence. "I bet he rather likes you," he said to the predator-avian, "You think you could stop looking at me like you wanna eat me? I've had enough of being someone's lunch today."

He lowered his head back to whatever soft stuff made up his nest-like bed and closed his eyes, trying to shut everything out and see if his imaginary lovers were still around.

_Ya did good,_ head-Jazz caressed his mind. _Remember, anything ya have ta do ta survive._


	29. HP13: When a Socket Goes Missing

**Fandom:** Transformers Bayverse (POV'verse)  
**Author:** gatekat and femme4jack on LJ  
**Pairing:** Miles Lancaster/Jazz/Prowl  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Codes:** Slash, Xeno (Transformer/Human)  
**Summary:** When Jazz's conversation with Miles ends abruptly, NEST kicks into high gear and two mechs get a fresh taste of panic.  
**Notes:** Written in the Point of View fanverse (community .livejournal .com/tf_matrix)  
_"text"_ translated Lisu  
**"text"** translated Cybertronian.  
::text:: comm/radio chatter  
~text~ bond talk

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Hunting Pleasure 13: When a Socket Goes Missing

* * *

Jazz relaxed in the cargo hold of the NEST C-17 Globemaster, glad to be free to remain in base form. Mission accomplished and headed home, he opened a comm line and rang Miles' phone.

::Hey sexy, how did things go?:: came a quick reply.

::Very well,:: Jazz purred, his systems revving at the sound of his newly claimed socket's voice. ::I got the girl, made some contacts, plotted the downfall of a regime and am looking forward to dragging Prowl away from those meetings for a few joor before heading down to make _very_ sure all those pretty ladies know you are _mine_.::

Oh yes, very much looking forward to dragging Prowl away from those meetings for a little fun. Humans were good, but they couldn't begin to compare to his bonded.

::Mmmm I'm looking forward to that, but remember that all these pretty ladies are my sisters, so you really don't have much to worry about, not that I mind it when you mark your territory, dude.::

Jazz's engine gave a low rumble of arousal. ::I am going to mark you till you can't walk,:: he promised hotly.

_"Kuhn Jazz?"_ Ma-le glanced towards him at the rumble and rev of his powerful engine, ignorant of his conversation with his human lover.

_"Speaking with my socket,"_ he explained, tapping the side of his helm.

::Damn babe ... how long will it be till you are here? And who is that in the background? Is there some girl I'm gonna to need to make very sure knows that _you_ are mine, or did you decide just to say fuck-it to the twins and bring her home for us? Cause I'd be cool with that.::

Jazz laughed. ::If they don't like her, I'm quite inclined to keep her, but they get first dibs. And two days, maybe less if I can wheedle a ride out of Skyfire. Might even manage to drag Prowler along,:: he added with sultry intent. Oh, he very much intended to try.

::I hope you can drag him away. Wish I was there to make it a combined effort. I really _was_ looking forward to his promises about playing with his holoform. So ... did you ... you know ... give her a good taste of what she can expect from the twins? You know, make her polish...::

The connection remained open, but all that came through was a whoosh of air, then the screaming of females from several meters. The shouts of two NEST soldiers running towards the cell phone comm came through.

::Barix, Ives!:: Jazz barked once they were close enough to hear him. ::Report!::

In the background the sounds of panic continued. A male voice could be heard in attempting to calm down the others while a female voice responded.

::Ives here, sir. It was Cybertronian, approximately 30-35 feet tall, flier in base form, black and dark purple. Did not resemble Starscream other than in size. It appeared out of nowhere, was here for less than 3 second, grabbed Miles and disappeared.::

A woman could be heard screaming. "What took my son? Where is he?"

::Cybertronian form Seeker,:: Jazz didn't have to think about it. ::Designation Skywarp. He's the only one that can do that. Stay on the ground and do damage control with the family. I'll take it from here.::

::Understood, sir,:: Ives responded and closed the channel.

~Prowl!~ he slammed into his bonded's awareness with all the subtlety of Devastator. ~Did we manage to track Skywarp's last jump, even partially?~

~Unlikely,~ Prowl responded, his entire system going tense as he checked. ~Negative.~

~He grabbed Miles not a klik ago,~ Jazz brought him up to speed. ~ I told Barix and Ives to do damage control with the family. This isn't a hunt they can help with.~

~Agreed,~ Prowl responded grimly. ~I'm headed to bring Prime up to speed. What else do you know?~

~His family is freaking out. They saw ol' Warp.~

~ID confirmed?~ Prowl pressed.

~A black and purple flier, 30-35ft tall, appeared, grabbed Miles and disappeared in under three seconds,~ Jazz relayed when he'd been told.

~Agreed, it is almost certainly Skywarp,~ Prowl couldn't hold back the dread at the thought of their socket in the hands of the Decepticon scientist. He knocked on Prime's office door.

Prime's door slid open revealing that he was meeting with Bumblebee and Sam. A quick private comm to Optimus led him to dismiss the two, Bumblebee quickly scooping up a confused Sam and heading out the door.

**"Report,"** Prime said, as soon as the door had slid closed.

**"Skywarp kidnapped Miles Lancaster,"** Prowl responded with only a tiny hint of the turmoil in his processor and spark evident in his voice and the way his sensor wings were hitched high and stiff. **"Teleported in, grabbed him while Miles was speaking with Jazz and teleported out. Both NEST guards and several family members witnessed it. Sergeant Barix and Lance Corporal Ives are currently doing damage control with the witnesses. Jazz is on his way back with the female, Ma-le, but is still six hours from Diego Garcia."**

**"Did we manage to track any of his jumps?"** Optimus asked, looking and sounding very concerned.

**"Negative, sir,"** Prowl responded, his sensor wings twitching in tension. **"However there is a 87.629% probability that he was taken to the Nemesis and Skywarp's main laboratory. It has been confirmed that he is fond of collecting organics from the worlds he has been stationed on. Primarily the dominant predator. Most are sentient. There is a 53.91% probability that this is why he took Miles. Unfortunately there is also 31.116% probability it is because he is aware of Miles connection to Jazz and myself and intends to use it to his or the Decepticon's advantage."**

Prime motioned for his TIC to sit in one of the chairs intended for his frame while simultaneously opening a comm Blaster on his most secure channel, putting it on audio so Prowl could hear.

::Blaster, Miles Lancaster has been taken by Skywarp. I want to know if he is on the Nemesis, and if so, who else is aware that he is there. We need to know whether he is working on his own or on orders. Also see if you can pick up whether Miles was a convenient grab or targeted because of the recent claim.::

::Yes, Sir,:: Blaster replied quickly before closing the channel.

**"What kind of failsafes and contingencies did the two of you code his nanites with, old friend?"**

**"Jazz's standard. As long as Miles is willing, they won't interfere,"** Prowl focused on providing the information and not the way his processors were screaming at him to ignore his battle computer and _so save his socket already_. **"If Miles resists I expect they would cause significant damage to the mech, given Jazz's capabilities."**

~Jazz ... is there anything you _haven't_ told me about what you coded the nanites with?~ he asked his agitated bonded cautiously.

~There's the Ops code too,~ he answered quietly. ~A signal and it'll short him, preferably waiting until a Con's hooked up and take them too.~

Prowl froze, his opens widening in shock as his entire body trembled faintly.

~You _seriously_ included a _kill protocol_ for our _socket_?~

~Yes,~ Jazz answered quietly but without any trace of shame or regret. ~You know the risks of letting anyone, anything, that close to the leadership. There has to be a way to prevent the Cons from getting the intel in his head when he's been around awhile.~

Prowl shuddered, forcefully shoved his emotional center off line and let his battle computer run through everything without interference.

~Of course. I should not have been surprised,~ Prowl responded after a moment, his emotionless state resonating clearly across the spark-bond. ~I will see if Skyfire or Silverbolt can intercept your transport and give you a quicker ride back.~

~Thanks love,~ Jazz brushed support against his bonded before the connection dimmed once more. He knew it would help when the emotional center came back on line.

**"There are Ops protocols installed as well,"** Prowl added calmly. **"A signal from Jazz, or indication that Miles has defected, and the nanites will terminate him and any mech connected to him."**

Prime's optics flashed in surprise at that particular revelation, but he quickly settled down to the business at hand. He would deal with Jazz later ... much later, when the situation was resolved one way or the other. He did not miss the obvious (to him) signs that his TIC's emotional center had gone off line part way through a private conversation with Jazz. It was all too clear the information had come as a shock to Prowl as well.

**"Options, Prowl. Which courses of action are least likely to result in Miles' death? I want every option on the table."** It was like Melodia all over again, and that was enough to make him wish he had the same option as Prowl in terms emotions.

**"In order of most likely to succeed without losses:**

**"Open communications with Skywarp. There is a 95.219% probability he will return Miles alive in exchange for some form of compensation we are willing to pay.**

**"Send Jazz in. There is a 99.421% probability Jazz will return and a 91.493% probability it will be with Miles in a survivable state. **

**"An assault on the Nemesis. There is a 78.981% probability of retrieving Miles alive, though there is only a 39.995% probability of doing so without other casualties to our forces. **

**"Wait for Mirage to recover and send him in. While this has a 99.497% probability of success, there is only a 64.819% probability of Miles still being alive and sane at that time.**"

**"And the probability that opening negotiations will lead to a repeat of this with Miles or other sockets? I want to look at the long-term losses as well as short term. And what is the probability of Miles turning someone while he is there and gaining assistance, and how that might affect the probabilities you have mentioned? Likewise, what is the probability of his being compromised and the Ops protocols being enacted?"**

Verbally, Optimus was all business. Internally, he was practically as desperate to save the boy as Prowl had been moments before. He knew as well as anyone how difficult it was for SIC and TIC to agree on a socket, and what the scene he had recently witnessed in the corridor actually indicated.

Prowl organized his thoughts, and ran most of the calculations before Prime had finished speaking.

~Jazz,~ he pressed against his bonded's awareness. ~What, exactly, will trigger the Ops protocols?~

The turmoil on the other side made his battle computer rebel and lower the probability of Jazz's success, though not enough to affect the order of recommended actions.

~A moment before he surrenders valuable information,~ he began with the one they had the least control over. ~A conscious choice to change his allegiance and mean it. I'm fairly sure he doesn't have anything that qualifies as valuable information yet.~

~Thank you,~ Prowl responded politely. **"According to Jazz, it is quite unlikely that he knows anything that qualifies as 'valuable information' to compromise so the probability that he will trigger that function is negligible. This is to our advantage, as he has no ability to prevent a Con from finding any information they choose to look for.**

**"Whether the negotiations lead to an increased danger to humans or sockets in general, or to Miles, depends on why Skywarp kidnapped him. As I do not have any information indicating his motives, I cannot speculate on his reaction. Likewise is Miles probable chance of gaining assistance. I am certain to a 99.873% probability that he will do whatever he perceives he needs to to survive."**

Prime's hand went to his 'temples' in the characteristic _frustrated_ pose he had adopted long ago from organics. This was where things became difficult. Probability could only tell him so much. There were so many variables that could not be accounted for, even by a tactician with a battle computer as powerful as Prowl's.

**"I don't want to make a decision until we have a better idea of whether Skywarp is working on his own or took Miles under orders. That affects everything. The negotiation route is one I'm much more likely to agree to should he be acting by himself. I do not want to set up a precedent that encourages them to target our claimed sockets more than they area already likely to. I also need to weigh whether an attack on the Nemesis, despite the probably losses, would be to our strategic advantage. We are in a position of strength right now, and it may very well be worth it to take advantage of that strength."**

Sometimes Optimus _hated_ having to be the one to think about the big picture. It lead to emotionally devastating decisions, such as allowing Bumblebee to be captured, something that still haunted him despite the outcome.

**"I want Jazz's opinions on these options, including his take on Miles' ability to survive and stay relatively sane in captivity for longer than a few days. And if Jazz can send a signal that can terminate Miles, what else is he capable of activating in the nanites from a distance? I'm curious as to whether there is some sort of 'gift' we can leave behind for his captors that will discourage this from happening again should we be successful in recovering him."**

Prowl nodded and nudged his bonded's awareness again.

~I can do just about anything with them,~ Jazz responded before Prowl could even ask. ~The catch is that the signal won't be concealed unless I'm on board.~

**"Apparently he can do just about anything with the nanites ... his words ... but can not conceal the transmission unless he is at very close range,"** Prowl relayed. ~How long do you believe Miles can remain sane in Skywarp's care?~

Prowl could feel the wince and the processors at work on the other side of the bond. Jazz may be as focused on his emotions as Prowl was on logic, but when it came to such things of the spark, Prowl would bow to his greater understanding without question.

~He's like me, without the training,~ Jazz responded after an unusually long time. ~He'll survive any way he has to for as long as he has too.~

Prowl focused on Prime's optics, and even with his emotional center turned off, that wasn't a message he wanted to pass on. Still, he spoke as commanded. **"Jazz believes he will survive, sane, for as long as it takes."**

Prime vented. For the sake of the young human, as well as two of his oldest friends, he _wished_ that Jazz's response to both of the inquiries had been less positive than they had been. It would make the choice far easier. Simply open negotiations and obtain Miles' release as soon as possible. But the very real chance that this would lead to a strategy of socket kidnappings among the energon-starved surviving 'Cons was far too risky.

However, if Miles could remain in place long enough to send Jazz in, but not with the intention of recovery, but rather to leave behind a final 'gift' for Skywarp before the exchange took place, they could very likely recover Miles relatively unharmed, but discourage either Skywarp or anyone else from repeating their actions.

The obvious short-term choice was to simply open negotiations immediately, but he had more than just Miles to consider. He needed to consider the fate of every claimed socket on base, who could not be asked to spend their lives in hiding.

**"I think you know the scenario I'm considering, old friend, and it is not one I wish to ask of you, Jazz, or Miles. The fact that he is civilian weighs heavily on me, as well. I want to make his recovery the priority, over all others, but only in such a way the discourages this from happening again. I do not wish the end of this war to be a repeat of its early years. We need to avoid making our sockets any more of a target than they already are. I want to know you and your bonded's opinion on the matter ... and both of your feelings."**

Prowl would have winced if he'd been capable of it. **"You intend to send Jazz to the Nemesis, but ask him to leave Miles there."**

**"I don't intend anything. I'm weighing options. The option I'm weighing is to begin negotiations for his release immediately, but to also send Jazz to the Nemesis to ensure that something is left behind to discourage this from happening again, to your socket or any other, and to have a way to get Miles out if we are being double crossed. I want to get Miles back. And I don't want Sam, Will, Sarah, Robert, Maggie, Mikaela, Ma-Le or _any_ of the others to be in the same situation weeks or months from now."**

Prowl nodded slightly. **"Sending Jazz to the Nemesis will also afford us the opportunity to gain intelligence on why Miles was taken,"** he added sensibly. **"So many variables could be determined by a quick recon mission. Jazz is currently the most suitable choice for the mission."**


	30. Hunting Pleasure 14: Miles of Pain

**Fandom:** Transformers Bayverse (POV'verse)  
**Author:** gatekat and femme4jack on LJ  
**Pairing:** Miles Lancaster/Skywarp, Miles Lancaster/Flitfire, Miles Lancaster/Radfire  
**Rating:** NC-17 for mech/male, feline male/human male  
**Codes:** Sticky, Slash, Xeno (Transformer/Human), Non-Con, Dub-Con  
**Summary:** Day two of Miles' stay in Skywarp's lab brings far worse events than the first.  
**Notes:** Written in the Point of View fanverse (community .livejournal .com/tf_matrix)  
**"text"** translated Cybertronian.

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Hunting Pleasure 14: Miles of Pain

* * *

Miles first 'night' in Skywarp's lab was uneventful. At one point, Flitfire, the small white Insecticon, had returned with some sort of tasteless ration, which Miles ate quickly nonetheless. His 'head' buddies kept reminding him that survival was the priority, so feeding himself, even something as tasteless as the paste that was set in front of him, was a serious matter. He noticed the other organics watching him frequently, including when he used the waste box. It was disconcerting, but he tried to give the right non-verbals to show his friendliness. Who knew when an ally might come in handy. He slept fitfully, waking often to strange sounds. When he did sleep, his dreams were exclusively about Prowl and Jazz, and were comforting and erotic, as though the dream versions of the two were trying to wipe away the memory of what had happened and give him strength for what was to come, because he was certain that _more_ was coming.

That more seemed to arrive without Skywarp when Flitfire came back and let himself into Miles' cage with nothing in his hands.

"Share?" the small mech asked, his manner submissive.

Head Jazz gave a little whoop inside. _Good way ta get an ally, kid, and even with your limited experience, you are likely to blow him away._

Miles smiled at the Insecticon. "Sure dude, I'd be happy to. Just don't get yourself in trouble, ok?". Miles lifted up his blond hair and offered the small mech his socket.

The white mech scurried forward and quickly hooked the cable up, sending a familiar tingle of pleasure through Miles body. Without hesitation, he reached to stroke Miles' cock, being careful of his claws despite the hunger burning in his spark.

Miles grinned at Flitfire's eagerness and moved so that he could straddle the small white Insecticon's lap and began to run his hands along seams and sensitive spots on his armor. ~Do you have a spike installed? This can go both ways if you want it to.~

The mech shuddered in surprise pleasure at the touch, a clicking moan escaping his vocalizer. ~Only Seekers have spikes,~ Flitfire responded, his arousal, and the sense of just how new it was, bleeding over the connection.

Miles surprise at that made the Insecticon very aware that it was standard equipment on every Autobot. He let the sensations bleeding over the connection guide his fingers, finding a transformation cog to give special attention to before moving on to the next sensitive spot, all the while enjoying the increasingly aroused efforts of Flitfire to stimulate his most sensitive nerves through the connection and with his hand. The most arousing part of all of it was the eagerness of the white Insecticon's spark that Miles could perceive nearly lunging at him through its casing as it consumed what he was feeding it. The sweetness of the sensation was almost enough to erase the lingering horror over his experience being consumed by Skywarp hours before.

~He's not that bad,~ Flitfire murmured, his mind flicking through the blunt reality of being a small, relatively weak 'Con. ~Glad I don't have a valve. Just another way to be hurt.~

Miles took in the impressions Flitfire gave him, saddened, but not surprised. If Skywarp was _not that bad_, then he could only guess what a small, relatively weak mech would go through in such a place.

~I will get away from here, somehow. Come with me.~

He leaned in and kissed the small mech, his hands, guided by the Insecticon's own sensations, finding their way to delicate wiring and cables underneath his plating.

A rush of pleasure, an effort to return the touch and feed his spark, was only somewhat distracted by the panic-terror going on behind the scenes. ~Skywarp protects me. He'd be very angry if I leave.~

~Just think about it, dude. You don't have to decide anything right now. I don't want you to do anything that takes away the little bit of safety you have. Just enjoy this.~ Miles focused on sending soothing and relaxing feelings to the starving spark and encouraged the white Insecticon to focus on doing the things that would lead directly to his spark being filled with youth.

Flitfire shuddered and focused on pleasuring Miles with his hands and processor, on producing the energy that made him feel so incredibly good. Across the connection, Miles could feel that it was entirely selfish in motive, but it still meant the Con didn't have enough cruelty in him to prefer inflicting pain over receiving the pleasure-energy.

So Miles focused on giving the Insecticon a level of pleasure and energy that would not easily be forgotten, or given up. He traced and licked the highly sensitive chest plate seam above the 'Cons spark that could be felt straining to touch its source of life. He was answered by a steady rhythm on his cock and pulses of pleasure along the connection, still inexperienced, but a highly enjoyable distraction. He allowed his mind to ascend into fantasy and once again his head-lovers made the climax so much stronger than it might have been otherwise.

Taken by surprise at the rush of energy involved in Miles' climax, Flitfire chittered and keened, his frame going stiff from the rampant energy crushing through his systems before he sank backwards. His vents gasped for cool air and his mind was in complete awe of not just the energy in his spark but of the pleasure still tingling along his neural net.

Miles slumped forward, his head resting on Flitfire's chest. ~It gets even better than that,~ he whispered in the mech's mind, showing him memories of his sharing with Prowl and Jazz, of how exquisite it was to have both a lover of ones own kind and a socket to share, as well as the impression of a base with many humans eager to do what Miles had just done.

Flitfire's vents hitched, his processors stalling at the very thought of what Miles was suggestion. At the same time, behind carefully shields, he analyzed it in context of an entire existence within the ranks of mechs larger and more powerful than he was. He knew full well how manipulative people could be when they wanted something. It was the only reason he was still functioning.

~What do you want, to take me with you?~ he asked cautiously. He knew it had to be a partial lie, but he knew from the human's mind it held more than a byte of truth as well.

Miles was generally a straightforward and honest person. He knew he was manipulating the Insecticon, and there was no point in not admitting that.

~I want to get out of here, back to the mechs who claimed me. I'd gladly _bring_ you along if you wanted to go and I had that choice. I honestly don't _want_ anything other than to get back home. If you can help me do that, or help keep me safe and sane while I try to do that, its great. If you don't want to get involved, I'll still share with you because it feels good and helps me forget where I'm at. Am I trying to lure you away? Of course I am. Wouldn't you in my situation?~

The mech cocked his head and studied Miles briefly. ~No.~

Simple, straightforward and absolutely without a clue why he would ever want to. With a sense of growing unease, Flitfire disconnected and quickly scurried out of the clear cell, closing and locking it behind him.

Miles sighed and tried to clean himself up before collapsing once again on the 'nest' in his cage.

_You dudes aren't gonna leave me here, are you?_ Despair was creeping up on the blond again, and he knew, after what he saw in Flitfire's memories, that what he had seen was nothing compared to what could and probably would happen to him if that rescue didn't come fast. He needed to be ready for it, whatever it would be.

Head-Jazz nuzzled him, offering a silent assurance and the sensation that no matter how bad it seemed, it wouldn't be more than he could take.

_Thanks dude. I guess I should be happy Skywarp grabbed me, and not one of the others, at least from what I could see. Got to count the small favors._ Miles retreated again into his mind and curled up on a warm metal lap, watched over by two optics and a visor.

He wasn't sure how long it was before he drifted into a fitful sleep, or how long he was in that state, before the bright overhead lights came on to announce an authorized presence in the room.

It was ridiculous to feign sleep in front of someone who could scan him, so he sat up and rubbed his dry eyes. He was thirsty and chilled, a sure sign of mild dehydration setting in.

A low level scan flickered across him, just a tingle across his skin, but it was enough to change Skywarp's focus from the avian to Miles.

"How much H2O should you consume each day to maintain health?" the Seeker asked.

Miles regarded him for a moment, then replied. "It depends on how much activity I'm up to. But the rule they always taught us in school was 8 8oz glasses of water a day."

The Seeker nodded and turned his attention back to the avian. As he opened the cell and put his hand in for it to hope on, Miles noticed a new cube in his cell. Two feet across by his best guess, and slowly filling with clear liquid.

Miles rushed over and cupped his hands in the pure water, drinking quickly and then using some to try to wash himself off a bit. He then walked to the side of his cage to watch what was happening with the avian and Skywarp.

The large avian was clearly well-conditioned to what was happening, and it made light chirping sound as it relaxed neatly on the outstretched hand as it was withdrawn from the cell.

Skywarp was making sounds too, clicking noises that Miles hesitantly identified as the Seeker dialect. Suddenly the avian tensed and stretched to its full height, its wings unfurling to reveal full taloned hands near the middle of the leading edge where the wing changed to long flight feathers.

Miles stared wide-eyed as the eagle-like avian launched, its wingspan making it twice as large as the blond. Skywarp had released a small deer in the warehouse-sized lab, who pathetically stood perfectly still, frozen in fear and hoping not to be seen. It was obviously not much of a challenge for the avian, but its thrill at diving down to capture and kill live food was obvious. It was an awesome sight, and Miles could only imagine the fear the creature could instill in humans should it be free. He certainly did not wish to be the next one released for the avian to hunt.

Despite himself, he couldn't tear his eyes away from the mockery of the nature-show scene of a hawk or eagle over a freshly killed rabbit. Wings spread to shield its kill from other skyborn eyes, the avian tore at it, quickly gobbling meat, hide, bone and everything else down.

Miles barely noticed another light scan pass over him before Skywarp's voice startled him back into paying attention to the Con.

"Better," the Seeker was nodding to himself as he unlocked the clear cage and reached in.

Miles froze in fear, very much like the deer as the even more dangerous bird of prey picked him up in his talons. Suddenly, his cage seemed like the safest place on the planet ... or wherever they happened to be. A small part of his brain that wasn't focused on _ohmygodI'mgoingtodie_ noticed that Skywarp did handle him carefully as he was transported to the desk and left there while the Seeker went to fetch the feline.

It was the largest feline Miles had ever seen living, at least as large as the saber toothed tiger he had seen in a museum, but with an appearance similar to that of a lion with thick flame-red mane and emerald green stripes on its black pelt. It was a stunning creature, just as the eagle-like avian had been.

Having no idea what was coming (was he to be the feline's breakfast?), Miles sat on the desk, painfully aware of his own nudity, lack of claws, talons, thick pelt, or anything else that could protect him. He wondered at the moment how it was that humans had become the dominant species on his planet.

_Sheer will and determination, and quite a bit of evolutionary luck,_ head Jazz commented, trying to lighten his mood.

_Well, Jazz-man, this human is suddenly at the very bottom of the food chain, and I'm not liking it at all,_ he replied.

_78.549% of prey escape the predators that target them,_ head Prowl added, still not looking up from his damn datapad which head Miles was getting ready to break in half.

The feline was placed on the desk, and it eyed Miles in a very predatory manner, but didn't move as Skywarp walked around and sat at his chair. Then the Seeker's hand was near Miles, his cable snaking out to connect.

For a moment, Miles wondered what would happen if he didn't consent. He had _no_ desire to connect with the Seeker again. While his body had registered the events of the previous day as intense, almost torturous pleasure, to his mind it had been brutal. And the Seeker's own pleasure had been horrifying to experience unfiltered.

If the nanites sharing protocols were activated by his own consent, as he was suspecting, he wasn't at all certain he even _could_ activate them at this moment. But even as he struggled internally, he was reminded that cooperation could very well mean his life. Whatever it took, whatever Skywarp had in mind, he would and could take it if it meant getting back to Prowl and Jazz again.

All that thought happened in the moment it took between recognizing the cable and it plugging in.

~Radfire there is male, built not too unlike your kind and intelligent enough to understand mating for pleasure.~

Horror instantly arose in Miles. The prospect Skywarp suggested struck against human taboos so deep that Miles was helpless to hide his revulsion.

~Please...I can't.~ he said helplessly.

He felt more curiosity than anger from the Seeker. ~Why? You are compatible in form.~

Miles tried to steady his own thoughts. ~Fucking a different kind of animal is one of our strongest taboos. I can't feel anything but revulsion about the idea, not matter how compatible we might be. Does he even know what you want us to do?~

~Oh yes. He's looking forward to it,~ Skywarp mentally directed Miles' gaze to the visible deep red phallus the feline was sporting.

Miles looked over at the feline and shuddered at how obviously eager he was for something that was horrifying the human. He had seen enough nature shows as a kid to know that felines on earth certainly didn't mate gently. He had no idea what this species would be like, but he could be certain that even if it was not violent, his own instinctive revulsion and taboos would keep it from being pleasurable.

~What do you want me to do?~ Miles finally asked, resigned.

Skywarp was increasingly fascinated by the deep-rooted reluctance and buried his processors a little further into Miles mind, though all he did was watch and record.

~I want to see you mate,~ the Seeker said reasonably, at least in his own processors. ~Radfire is the only specimen I have that is intelligent enough to understand you are not food.~

Miles realized that it wasn't so much who he mated with that fascinated the Seeker, but instead the process itself. ~I have nothing against the dude intellectually, but I _can't_ mate with him. Can I ask what you'll do if I refuse?~

He felt fury flair white hot before being stomped down.

~We'll move on to a different experiment while I acquire a second human,~ Skywarp grumbled, still clearly ticked off but enough of a scientist to work with what he was given.

_shit_ Miles thought. There was no way he was going to be responsible for another human getting taken. Not just to save him from having to deal with something he found repulsive.

Miles glared at Skywarp, not able to control his own frustration and anger.

~I'll do it. Just don't get another human, please?~

Even saying that, he could not hide the fact that it would _not_ be mating, at least how Miles understood the term. Mating had to be something you desired.

He felt a flicker of surprise from the Seeker, and deeper poking around in his mind, but Skywarp soon backed off seemingly with no more understanding than before. ~Very well,~ he nodded and emitted a series of low frequency rumbles that had Radfire on his feet and rubbing against Miles affectionately.

Miles first impression was of a very large version of the cat he had grown up with as soft fur rubbing against him. It was pleasant but not erotic, though obviously was for the feline. He tentatively reached up his hand and rubbed it through the feline's mane-like fur.

A deep rumble came in response and Radfire curled his body partially around Miles', rubbing as much of their bodies together as possible. A thick, furry tail rubbed the inside of thigh, boldly brushing against his balls before descending the other side.

Miles body surprised the hell out of him by responding to the caresses from the feline. His mind still thoroughly rebelled form the idea, but a moan escaped his lips as the felines tale brushed against him, and his cock slowly began to stir. But his attention was distracted by the tall feline's red phallus pressed against his upper abdomen, and his body rebelled in revulsion once again, causing Miles to half pull back. It was _too_ different, too wrong.

Something close to a sigh mixed with a trill escaped the feline's throat as he tried again, rubbing and caressing as best he could to get a better reaction out of this creature he was bid to mate with.

Miles closed his eyes. The feline was not being threatening and was trying to stimulate him. Physically there was nothing _wrong_ with what Radfire was doing. He tried to focus fully on his body and ignore his rebelling mind. He moved close again, allowing himself to be passively rubbed by soft fur.

The part of his head that still had a sense of humor remarked that he would never have made it as a shepherd.

Head-Jazz howled with laughter. _Hey kid, some of my kind felt the same way about organics. Get over it. The kitty isn't bad. I'd have no problem with him._

Suddenly Miles latched onto a memory. The memory of Prowl sharing his own memories of their various sockets, and the sensuous, beautiful memory of the feline he and Jazz shared. This was not bestiality, any more than Jazz and Prowl sharing with him was. This was two sentient beings making the best of a horrid situation.

_Thank you_ he whispered as his body finally responded. He was fairly sure the feline relaxed some as well as he continued to rub.

Radfire finished a circle around Miles' body and pressed his muzzle against Miles' crotch, darting his tongue out to lick up the half-hard cock.

Miles body finally took complete control of his mind. The feline was _good_ at what he was doing, in a very non-human sort of way. Miles cock hardened and he thrust toward the darting tongue, images of Prowl and Jazz pleasuring their feline pouring through his head as though he was connected with them again.

A deep rumbling purr emanated from the feline as he breathed deeply of the growing arousal and turned his tongue to exploring Miles' balls while the side of his head rubbed against both thighs.

Miles continued to close his eyes, focusing on sensations and memories Prowl had shared that were rapidly resurfacing. He reached down and stroked the feline's head appreciatively and encouragingly. If this was enough to satisfy Skywarp, he could do this.

When he felt his arousal shift fully from getting turned on and ready to a desire to thrust and get off Radfire ran his tongue up the full length of his cock. Then the feline stepped away and turned around, offering himself to the human.

_Can't_ Miles whispered in his mind, his arousal fleeing and quickly as it had come.

_I'm sorry ... I just can't._

At that moment he truly understood how appalling the shift from generators to sockets must have been for so many in Cybertronian society.

The feline looked at him, and he thought he saw resigned understanding in that alien face as Radfire turned around and nuzzled his groin once more.

Miles reached out and pet the feline affectionately, but with no desire. He simply couldn't force his body to respond, as willing as Radfire was. He knew that he could not top the feline, his body just was not going to cooperate. But he also knew that he was not going to be the one to cause Skywarp to take another human prisoner.

He stroked the feline's fur and caught his eyes, trying to communicate his intent, and then turned around to allow Radfire to top him.

The big feline rubbed along his ass, his leg, then rubbed along his entire side, sniffing and nuzzling him gently.

Miles again closed his eyes and allowed his body to take in the gentle sensations. Even not sharing a language, he _knew_ that the feline desired him and had no desire to rape or harm him. He wondered how long Radfire had been in captivity, how long it had been since he had been touched, and whether Miles' own reactions would be completely different should he spend years or even decades in the Seeker's lab.

Miles reached behind him to stroke the feline affectionately and understandingly. He truly _wished_ he could have responded. He got onto his hands and knees, assuming it to be the easiest position for the feline to mount him, looked back again and smiled softly and nodded, hoping that his non verbal expressions were enough to communicate his willingness despite his lack of desire.

It seemed to be enough, but despite his best efforts to relax and accept it, it _hurt_ when Radfire covered his body and began to press his larger cock into Miles' ass. Despite the intensity of what was happening to him, it was abruptly impossible to ignore the combined shock, pain and arousal from Skywarp as his spark fed off the pain, causing great pleasure, but experiencing the pain, something at odds with arousal even for the Seeker.

Miles latched on to the Seeker's arousal and the sensations of a feeding spark. This was familiar. He could _feel_ his pain, his fear, his longing to be able to respond differently, and his despair feeding the hungry spark ... so different a flavor even from the generators because it was personal. Miles forced himself to focus on the pleasure of the spark to try to shut out the burning pain and feeling of being torn apart despite the gentleness of the feline's thrusts.

Above him, Miles could feel and hear Radfire huffing and grunting with each shallow thrust, the pleasure of such a tight heat around his cock had to be intense, and it drilled into Miles awareness that little bit more that this wasn't an animal. No animal would hold back so much.

~Why does it hurt?~ Skywarp gasped against his mind.

Miles focused in on Skywarp, biting back a cry of pain as the thrusts became a bit harder. He could not blame the feline. He knew how tight he must be, how good it likely felt from Radfire's point of view. ~Because there is no lube, I wasn't stretched first, and most of all because I didn't desire it! My body isn't made to have sex with his - his cock is way too large for me and it fucking hurts!~

He focused on the dim awareness of Skywarp trying to look up what he was saying, and the frustration when he couldn't find anything that made sense. Suddenly Radfire was no longer against him, his ass was empty, and a scan like Ratchet used was going over him.

The Seeker scowled down at him and disconnected before he began looking for something. "Explain that further."

Miles groaned and curled up, relieved it was over. He touched his ass and found that it was bleeding, but not as badly as it could have been. The feline had showed a lot of restraint, and Miles felt a surge of affection for him.

Looking up at the Seeker from his near fetal position, he tried to remain calm and cooperative.

"You big guys have a valve that makes its own lubricant, and if you are like the Autobots, adjusts in size to fit your partner's spike. Little dudes like me don't have that. I don't have any natural lubricant, and the space is _very_ tight. So even a larger than average human cock could injure me if I wasn't properly stretched ahead of time and plenty of lube wasn't used. Radfire's cock is quite a bit larger than even a large human, so tore my fucking ass and hurt like hell, even though he was trying to be gentle."

Miles was sure the Seeker was looking up things, cross referencing whatever he had access to. Apparently it made sense, because he nodded from where he was across the room. Skywarp walked back to his desk and placed a small, to him, cube of a shimmering silver cream near Miles.

"Spread that on the damage. The nanites should repair it within a couple joor."

Miles spread the silver cream on his bleeding hole, making sure to put some on the damage further in, and then returned to lying in fetal position. He _knew_ things could have been so much worse, and if he had a chance, he would gladly give the feline the scratching of a lifetime so long as it didn't involve sex.

"Your body temperature is dropping," Skywarp stated, something that might just be concern in his voice.

Miles shivered, almost in response to his words. He was naked and cold and sore and wanted to be back home, his new home, with mechs whom he could trust to be completely aware of what his body could and could not take.

"I'm cold because I'm naked," Miles simple said. "And probably a bit of shock from the pain." Pain which, he noted, was quickly receding.

Skywarp picked him up and took him to his cell, though the door-wall was left open as the Seeker went to get some more of the bed fluff. "Put this over you. You should feed better within a couple joor."

Without waiting for a response, he closed the cell door and went to retrieve Radfire to return the feline to his cell.

Miles watched the Seeker curiously. He seemed genuinely curious, like he was simply trying to understand things that he didn't. He was not being cruel, and had actually stopped the large feline when it was clear that Miles was in pain. He even seemed genuinely concerned about his well being, at least for now while he was being useful.

He walked over to his cube of water and drank thirstily, looking at the feline trying to catch his eye, wishing they could speak. He was tremendously grateful that the lion-like creature had held back and had been so careful.

Still, for now his ass had stopped hurting, he wasn't thirsty and complying with Skywarp's 'suggestion' to snuggle up between layers of bedding was sounding better by the second.


	31. Hunting Pleasure 15:For the Greater Good

**Fandom:** Transformers Bayverse (POV'verse)  
**Author:** gatekat and femme4jack on LJ  
**Pairing:** Jazz/Prowl/Miles Lancaster  
**Rating:** PG-13 for now  
**Codes:** Slash, Xeno (Transformer/Human)  
**Summary:** Jazz breaks mission code and contacts his socket without rescuing him.  
**Notes:** Written in the Point of View fanverse (community .livejournal .com/tf_matrix)

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Hunting Pleasure 15: For the Greater Good

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Jazz was shaking in fury. Even his mission mindset wasn't going far enough to keep him calm. Not witnessing his socket being raped by a cat, crying and curled up in pain when Skywarp had stopped it.

He'd gone from The Saboteur to a freaked out Autobot youngling in the breath of a sparkbeat. Yet he held still and silent, hidden from the Con he knew he could take easily. He was here for intel, to set traps and _not_ to rescue his socket.

His spark raged at him again. He'd never let them do this with Prowl.

His processors froze, the energon in his lines turned to liquid nitrogen.

No, and they wouldn't even try. Not with his bonded. But with his socket, that was fine.

He shook again and flung his bond wide open to snarl his outrage and frustration with himself to the one mech he trusted to calm him. He wasn't disappointed. His rebelling systems stilled as Prowl's absolute logic bled emotions from him faster than they came.

Now he just had to wait until Skywarp left.

Miles curled up on the nest of soft material, covering himself up with more of the stuff. Retreating into his head, he talked with his imaginary lovers.

_Made it through that one, dudes. It could have been worse. Wish we could take the feline home with us ... he deserves some big guy to keep him happy._

He was so wrapped in his own thoughts that he hardly noticed when Skywarp left the room the lights dimmed. He didn't notice when a mech crept up to his cage or when a cable connected to his socket.

~Shu,~ Jazz was in his mind, traces of protective rage still tainting the effort to calm him. ~You're doing great. Just a little longer and you'll be home.~

Miles startled and almost cried out, but a silver clawed hand and an impulse through the connection stopped the sound before it could begin.

~Jazz! Holy shit am I glad you are here!~

~Don't be that happy,~ the Autobot SIC told him grimly. ~I'm under orders to leave you; I'm not even supposed to let you know I'm here, but I couldn't. I had to give you a little hope.~

~What!~ Panic set in. ~Leave me? How can they do that ... what the fuck, Jazz! Get me out of here, please!~

The damn that had been holding back the blond's tears finally broke.

He felt his lover caress his mind, an apology in the silence there. ~It's for the greater good, Miles. To make damn sure the Cons don't target sockets again. Just another day, that's all you have to hold on, but we need you to do that. If it gets really bad, I'll be nearby and orders or no, I'll get you out.~

Biting his lip, his mind _leaned_ into the caress, grasping for comfort and sanity. He wanted to scream _fuck the greater good_, but instead he took a few deep breaths to settle himself down while mentally clinging to Jazz. It made sense, in a twisted, horrible sort of way that made him want to puke. ~What do I have to do, dude? To keep that fucktard or any of the others from taking any more of us.~

~Just survive,~ Jazz promised, his hand splayed across the front of the cage. ~I'm doing the rest. Me, Prowl and Prime. Comply with Skywarp and survive. They're planning to trade for you, but things have to happen first. Mostly I have to happen to the Nemesis and Skywarp.~

Miles reached out and put his hand against the barrier. ~Get them good for me, babe. I can do the surviving part. You and Prowl have been helping me along.~ Miles mentally pulled at Jazz to invite him to look at the oddly vivid conversations and fantasies that had kept him going.

~Wow,~ the silver mech murmured, openly startled. ~It should take vorns to get that far, if it ever does.~

~Maybe just my imagination. I've always had a good one. Whatever it is, it's helped, a lot.~

~Glad it helped,~ Jazz mentally nuzzled him. ~Gotta go. 'Cracker's coming.~

~Love you, man. Go do what you have to do.~

And the connection was gone. Miles burrowed into his nest, feigning sleep, mentally trying to relax and slow his heart rate down, noticing with a trace of humor that the pavlovian response to Jazz's voice worked even under extreme duress.

He felt as much as saw the lights come on, then heard the heavy steps of a large mech making no effort to be subtle. The avian in the cage next to him chirped and squawked in an excited greeting.

Miles listened to the sounds with keen interest. For a faction that hated organics so much, the two Seekers seemed to take great interest in them, at least in a pet/lab rat sort of way. It was obvious that the avian was not frightened of the second Seeker. In its own strange way, it gave Miles some hope. Pet/lab rat was better than generator, in a baby steps sort of way.

He knew his own mind was distracting him from the prospect of what the next 24 hours might bring. He clung to the fact that Jazz was there. He wasn't alone. If things _really_ got bad, the saboteur would get him out. The problem was just what _really_ bad looked like. Things could be pretty horrid without his life being in danger, and if he were honest with himself, he knew he was resilient enough to recover from _bad bad_ that wasn't _really bad_, and Jazz probably knew that as well, considering the silver mech could get inside his head.

The avian's cage opened, and there was the scrabble of its talons against metal as it settled on Thundercracker's hand. The Seeker made a few chirping sounds before walking off, the lights turning off when he'd gone.

Miles woke slowly, of his own accord, well before the lights came on again. A cube of the tasteless, spongy 'food' was in his cage.

As he quietly gagged down the food, he checked out his surroundings. The avian was still away, and the reptile was not moving. Radfire, the feline, was pacing and looking very restless.

"You ok, dude?" He asked, knowing that the feline would not be able to respond to him. He wondered if Jazz was still around, and if the feline somehow sensed him.

That thought stopped Miles short. Jazz had been there. Skywarp would be able to see that fact in his mind easily if he probed hard enough. Suddenly, the blond felt as full of anxiety as the feline seemed to be.

~Shu, dude,~ Jazz, or maybe head-Jazz, tried to sooth him ~'Warp's got other troubles.~

Miles took a deep breath, and focused on simply being in the present. A rational, logical part of his mind reminded him that "Jazz" and "Prowl" had been visiting him ever since he had gotten there, and Skywarp hadn't noticed those vivid impressions and fantasies in his head, or if he had, he had not seen it as important. He focused on trying to think of Jazz's recent visit as nothing more than what the others had been. A comforting figment of his imagination.

If it had been a few days longer here, he'd have already suspected it was. After all, Jazz and Prowl both were completely confident that Jazz could get anywhere, do anything, when he set his mind to it. It was an easy delusion.

The lights came one as the door whooshed open, and when Skywarp came into view, suddenly Jazz's comment made a lot more sense. Though the black and purple Seeker was clean and no longer bleeding, _something_ had recently tore him a new one.

Miles stood up and looked at the Seeker with honest curiosity. "You ok, dude? That looks like it hurts like hell." He spoke quietly, hoping he didn't sound too antagonizing.

It earned him a curious look when the Seeker paused part way to his desk. "I will be fine," he insisted. "I've taken worse beatings."

Miles curiosity only peaked more. Had he been beaten? By who? And did he dare ask about it? Had he been in a fight and was _beaten_, or had he been _beaten_ by a superior, in trouble for something...or someone.

Skywarp had not shown much inclination toward outright violence toward him. Miles hesitantly asked, "So, why would someone beat you?"

"Because they can," the Seeker shrugged as he sat down at his desk and pulled up a holographic display of glyphs and pictograms that he manipulated with the sharp tips of his claws. "Between that Autobot spy, Thundercracker being off wherever he is and whatever Megatron is focused on, mechs see an opportunity to brag that they took a Seeker down."

Miles had another moment of panic that he quickly tried to suppress, instead reaching out to what he hoped wasn't a figment of his imagination.

~Dude, you ok? Skywarp just mentioned something about an Autobot spy.~

~Proly Raj,~ Jazz came back. ~Caught, got loose, terrorized'm hard 'for coming home couple weeks ago. Still not out of Hatchet's care. They'll wish for him back when I'm done.~

Miles consciously made an effort not to grin.

~Promise to tell me what you did when this is all over, dude. That is if its not one of those things you have to kill me after you tell me. I don't want to know _that_ stuff.~

Jazz laughed hard through the connection. ~Happy to, lover-boy. I know how to edit my tales to declassify them.~

Miles watched Skywarp work for a time. He kept thinking about how frankly curious the Seeker had seemed, how surprised he was that what he had instructed Miles and the feline to do had led to pain, how he had actually stopped it when he realized just _how_ much pain it was causing. He wondered if it might be time for him to do some research of his own.

"The others dudes you have here don't seem all that unhappy with their captivity. How long have you had them?" He asked quietly.

"Slither," he added something in a hissing clicking dialect that was decidedly not Seeker and the serpent was suddenly paying close attention to him, "is the oldest of those here. I've had her for sixty vorns. She should survive another three hundred, maybe longer. I didn't get an opportunity to properly study her kind before they were harvested. Radfire is the newest, besides you. He's only been in my collection for half a vorn. I got him from a trader. The avian is Kawlekee. She's actually Thundercracker's pet, though legally she's mine because I have the permit to keep organics. We've had her for..." he paused, trying to find the right number. He shook his head sharply. "Around twenty vorns."

Encouraged by the Seekers open response, Miles continued. "A short time for you, but a very long one for organics," Miles said softly. "Do you have them here simply to study? Why keep them so long?"

"I prefer not to turn over my subjects to the generators," he shrugged painfully. "Even after the initial study, I learn more about them all the time."

Miles watched him with keen interest. He _cared_ about his subjects. There was no doubt about it. "Does your spark feel the agony ... of the generators? The pain I felt with Radfire seemed to surprise you."

"No one sane remains aware when charging," Skywarp looked up and stared at the human. "I know a couple who do, but they're sadists even by Decepticon standards. The laws were put in place to keep us sane."

Miles looked back at the Seeker, unsure of how far he should push. "Have you ever ... stayed aware? Even once? I thought that the 'Cons denied that the organics were even _in_ any pain, or capable of feeling _real_ pain."

Skywarp flicked his gaze at Miles, then back to the holographic display he was working on. "No. I learned from a lover early in the war who did."

Miles considered his words for a moment. "Did you _mean_ to hurt me, when I shared with you? You weren't filtering your own sensations when they fed back through the link. It was ... not something I would ever want to feel again. I didn't even realize how much Jazz and Prowl and the others I've shared with filter what they feel and protect my mind and body until I felt what it was like without it."

"No," the Seeker regarded him. "A learning curve is to be expected with any skill. That was my first time."

"Would you like to...learn more?" Miles asked softly. He was keenly aware that the conversation was far more important than he had realized in the beginning. "I don't know how long you intend to keep me, but I'm willing to share."

"I would keep you as long as you last, but given you belong to Jazz and Prowl, I doubt I will have you much longer," he said simply. "Whether Prime barters for you or one of them simply takes you back, I'm sure it won't be long. I'm rather surprised you were still here when I came in. I'm quite sure Jazz or Mirage is on board."

~What do I do?~ Miles asked, lightning fast. It would be all too apparent to the Seeker if he feigned shock. Lying to beings who could directly scan one's electrochemical responses tended to be impossible.

~Relax,~ Jazz reassured him, though his voice was weaker, far more distant than before. ~Knowing I'm here and doing anything about it are different. One of us is usually on board, just like they usually have a spy in our bases. They know, we know. Besides, he's right. There's no way in the Pits we'd leave you here for long. Keep him talking about himself, Seekers, why he's Con, anything. Just keep him talking as long as he will.~

Miles gave a wordless thanks and brush of affection.

"So, how come most of the Seekers are Decepticons?" Miles deliberately changed the subject, but honestly curious. Skywarp did not strike him as what he had expected from a 'Con.

"Because the Winglord is," he chuckled mirthlessly. "Seekers aren't like anything your Autobots understand, even if they do have a couple in your ranks. Tread Bolt's even less a proper Seeker than I am, and Shimmerfire's a half-breed. I'll give you that Dogfight is as true as they come, except for turning his back on the Winglord."

"So what makes a _proper_ Seeker as opposed to one who isn't?" Miles was blatantly curious, wondering if he dared offer to share again, just so he'd better understand.

~Let him move at his pace,~ Jazz brushed against his awareness.

Skywarp cocked his head, being forced to really _think_ about something that was literally instinctive. Despite that, he didn't scowl. It was almost a ... smile ... on his face.

Miles sent a wordless nod and brush of affection in response.

"A proper Seeker is a warrior, a master of the skies. He bends his wings to no one and nothing that can not best him in the air," Skywarp paused. "How much did they teach you about how Cybertronians are created?"

"I know about the Allspark, and know that with its destruction the only way for life to go on is to return to an earlier, more dangerous way of creating new sparks. I know that Seekers never needed the Allspark, but not why."

Skywarp nodded and shut down the holographic display.

"After Primus formed into Cybertron, He grew lonely without His brother or the ability to explore the universe. So He took what He knew of life and invested a small spark of His own power into a form created from His new flesh. This was Prima, the first of who would come to be known as the First Thirteen in generations to come," he fell into a difference cadence and tone, a teaching one.

"In time they wished to have creations of their own, and Primus agreed, changing their bodies to allow them to create new life as other races He knew of could. Yet like those races, He could not stop the cycle of life that creation demanded. His children became mortal. It was a law that even He could not counter. He could extend their lives, give them advantages and tricks, and He did all he could, but in the end, in giving them the gift of reproduction, He had also given them mortality.

"Soon His body teamed with life of all shapes and kinds, all drawing their sparks of life from Him, whether by direct request or from the mechs who sparked them.

"His first creations had long since returned to Him, their sparks nestled against His own. It was good. He was content.

"His brother was furious.

"Unicron could not create life, for He is the Unmaker. What He could do was warp and twist what His brother had made, and He did so with a vengeance.

"He hindered their ability to survive the birth. He made it difficult for the new spark to survive long enough for its protoform to form fully so it could be born. He twisted the mortality of Primus' children so even if they did not have a sparkling they would fade and extinguish far more quickly than Primus intended.

"Primus fought back, countering the problems His brother created with new gifts to mitigate the issues.

"Their battle created a race of living machines that adapted quickly, changed with a thought and had an insatiable craving for the _new_.

"After the Unmaker had grown bored of the game, He left Primus' children alone. In that time of calm they went to work to fix what their creator could not.

"One mech, a brilliant tactician and fierce warrior, created a trine of sparkless frame to be the perfect warrior unit. He named the leader Order, the right Vision and the left Action. Then he took them deep within Cybertron to the places only the Primes had dared go before.

"He knelt before the Spark of Primus Itself and asked for the sparks to give his creations life. Unlike all who had knelt and asked before, First Wing asked for specific traits, evenly balanced between the three and between merits and flaws. Because of this, Primus was able to grant him exactly what he asked for.

"Order, Vision and Action were the first Seekers, The First Trine. Order was the first Winglord. They were masters of the air but awkward on the ground. United they were a terrible force to face, but they were dependant on each other. They could breed true and without the risk others faced, but they had to produce not only the sparks, but build the youngling frames. Their hatchlings were born ready to fly and fight, but they cost the gift of flight from their carrier while until they are born and required many resources.

"When the grounders created the generators, we shunned them for a long time. They had turned away from the greatest gift Primus gave them, the ability to create new sparks, and now they attempted to become immortal again. We saw that it made it harder for them to carry new sparks to term, the few who did manage to spark. It made them dependant on their technology, their creations, and not on what Primus gave us.

"It was ugly. It was wrong. It went against all that was _Seeker_," Skywarp suddenly dropped out of the teaching cadence and looked down, his wings drooping and his voice low. "But the promise of a long life was too strong for many trines, and eventually we were drawn in like the rest, and Primus punished us. He drove our Winglord insane while he recharged in the chamber and away from his real strength, his trine.

"Where the Winglord goes, the Seekers go. That was a price we paid for our social strength. Claim the Winglord and you claim all his wings," he murmured. "The Unmaker claimed our Winglord when Primus rejected him, then Megatron lured him with the promise of glory and war. The promise of glory and war was stronger than the promise of destroying what was destroying us."

~Holy...~ Jazz's shock rippled across Miles' mind, the stunned silence that followed testament to just how much a surprise some of the information was.

Miles was as stunned as Jazz, both by the story the Seeker wove and by the information he was trying to digest. For the first time, was actually _glad_ he had been taken, so he and Jazz could hear this.

~Hey lover? One hell of an opportunity here. You're the interrogator, dude. I can think of about a thousand questions to ask him next, but I don't want to fuck this up.~

He could all but feel Jazz scramble to organize his thoughts before replying. ~Ask him if he knew the Winglord before he went insane.~

~Good one~ Miles thought. He hadn't thought to ask that. He was more curious about how to get _rid_ of the current insane Winglord and perhaps deprive the 'Cons of their most important assets, but he knew that was _not_ the right question to be asking at this point, just as Skywarp had started to open up.

"What was the Winglord like before he went insane? Did you know him?"

Skywarp cocked his head slightly. "Yes, I knew Starscream before he was insane. I knew him before he was the Winglord. I've been trine with him and Thundercracker, the blue Seeker you've no doubt seen, since before we were born. I doubt you'd notice much difference. He's always been demanding, volatile, arrogant, conniving and self-serving. It's a matter of degrees, of how well he protects his own ... of Vos," his voice tapered off into a pained nothing, but there was almost a sense of relief about him as well.

"How did Starscream become the Winglord?" Miles asked before he could even think to check with Jazz. Somehow, it felt important to him.

"He bested all the competition when the former Winglord's spark faded to nothing. He is faster, more agile, more aggressive and his trine was a perfect match for the First Trine."

~Feel free to jump in anytime, boss~ Miles sent, before asking.

~You're doing great,~ Jazz grinned at him, the strength of the connection strengthening slowly as the silver mech came closer.

"So he will be Winglord until his spark fades, no mater how insane ... or how much or little he protects his own?" Miles asked. "What would happen if there were a new Winglord? Would you all continue to follow Megatron?"

"Basically," Skywarp nodded, his frame stiffening as an internal battle raged between core coding and personal desires. "It would depend on the Winglord, but given who the candidates are, yes."

"So how is someone supposed to be a pure Seeker, to be true to what you were intended to be, when the Winglord has gone mad and has been forsaken by Primus?" Miles was surprised at the words that came out of his mouth. Where had the slacker dude gone?

Clawed fingers dug into the desk, leaving deep gouges in the metal. Black wings trembled and ruby red optics flickered and flared.

"They can't," Skywarp managed to grate out. "Code still demands we follow our Winglord and our Winglord is _strong_."

Miles held his breath. He felt as though he were standing on the edge of a razor. Skywarp had revealed himself, the state of his spark more fully than Miles ever imagined he would, and Miles felt a thrill of excitement.

~So, any tips now, dude? By the way, I want some training in this when we get home. It's addicting in an 'I might die if I say the wrong thing' sort of way.~

~Ask him if he thinks Starscream can be repaired,~ Jazz suggested, even more excited than Miles. ~All our missions, we've never gotten this kind of intel. You're doing _good_ lover.~

Miles didn't even wait for Jazz's thought to finish. "Can your Winglord be repaired? Is there anything that can be done for him?"

Skywarp stared at him like he'd grown another head or something.

"Repaired ... your Ratchet and Smokescreen might be able to, or maybe Jazz," he shuddered and clicked in distress at the thought even as he said it. "However he would have to be captured and held. Hard. Very, very hard."

"Very hard, but not impossible," Miles whispered, knowing he would be heard. "Would it be worth it? For the sake of the trines that come after you?"

~I can't believe what's coming out of my mouth. Aliens must have abducted the real Miles and replaced him with me.~

~It's all you, lover-boy,~ Jazz grinned at him in his head. ~You're doing great. The intel is amazing. He knows you're mine, right?~

~He knows. Found out about both of you soon after I woke up when he first got me. He wasn't happy about it.~ Miles said as he watched Skywarp, his internal struggle with programming, fears and loyalties all too apparent on his frame and face.

~Then he's telling you knowing full well that Prowl and I will both find out,~ Jazz was utterly ecstatic. ~I knew he and 'Cracker were disillusioned, but I never guessed it would be 'Warp who broke the silence.~

"Yes," the black Seeker eventually admitted, his voice shaking as badly as his wings.

Miles swallowed, nearly as nervous and excited and high as when Jazz told him he and Prowl wanted to claim him.

"I may be an organic of limited intelligence, but from where I sit it seems like this whole thing isn't really about factions any more. It is about survival, and what kind of future your kind are going to have. What do you want me to tell my guys, when they get me back?"

There was another very long, uncomfortable silence as Skywarp struggled to speak, Miles held his breath and Jazz all but vibrated in excitement at what he was hearing.

"They're better to capture and fix him than kill him. Turn the Seekers Neutral," Skywarp managed. "Jazz was a Decepticon without peer early in the war," he began to relax as the topic moved off treason. "They got him. Converted him. Still don't know how, but they did. If they can convert that psychotic glitch, whoever did it can get anybody."

Jazz snickered in Miles' mind. ~Okay, that method won't work on Screamer, but I get the point. See if you can find out what he's expecting to get for you, or how many Cons know you're here.~

~You don't think you could find Screamer his star-crossed true love among the Autobots?~

~No one we know of at least,~ Jazz admitted.

"I'll pass on the word, as soon as I'm returned. What are you expecting to get for me...or will they be negotiating with others? I have no idea if anyone other than Thundercracker and the Insecticon even know I'm here."

The Seeker chuckled low in his chest. "Odds are good Thundercracker didn't even notice you. Assuming Jazz doesn't just take you, I'll probably get a few cubes of vintage Vosian Seeker high-grade for you. I'm sure between Prowl, Jazz and Mirage they have it."

Miles laughed. "Wow, only a few cubes? That is either really valuable high grade, or I'm not worth as much as I hoped I was. It hasn't been such a bad captivity, Skywarp, considering I assumed it would be much worse after you threatened me with live dissection."

"It wasn't a threat," the Seeker chuckled again. "It was a perfectly acceptable option for me. As for your value, if I had any confidence I could keep you if I asked for too much, I'd go for more. Five cubes of the vintage of Vosian Seeker high-grade that any of those three would have will buy a well-equipped mid-sized combat starship in good condition on the black market. What grounders call high-grade is what Seekers use as standard energon. Half a cube of good Seeker high-grade will put a mech as big as Prime on his aft. Two cubes will drop just about any Seeker. It hasn't been produced since energon became scarce early in the war."

"Well, then I don't feel so bad. I know there are several billion of us, but every dude likes to think he's a little bit special. And I never assumed that the live dissection part _wasn't_ a viable option, though I hope you got more interesting data through your non-dissecting research methods."

~Anything else you need to know, boss?~ Miles asked with a smirk.

~Ask him if he learned everything he wanted to,~ Jazz suggested.

Miles did so, highly curious of what the answer would be and surprised at his own arousal at the idea, considering what the first time had been like. Suddenly a career of trying to convert 'Cons through sharing didn't seem like such a horrible idea, especially with Jazz at his back.

The Seeker considered Miles and the offer, verbal and otherwise. "Why hasn't he killed us all?" he asked ask he stood and walked towards the cell.

"Maybe you all are more valuable to the future of your species alive," Miles suggested, while honestly not having a clue. It was clear that Skywarp was tremendously valuable.

"Prime then," the Seeker murmured as he opened the cage door and picked Miles up. "Neither Jazz nor his tactician would think twice about wiping out my kind if it helped their war effort."

Miles trembled in anticipation now that he was no longer terrified of the mind at the other end of the cable when Skywarp connected to him and walked back to the desk. The taste he had gotten of a Seeker's power and ecstasy in the air was something he wanted more of.

This close he realized just how much cosmetic damage Skywarp had taken. Claws had torn into his armor, leaving scratches, gouges and in places even exposed circuits.

"Will you pleasure yourself this time, or work with what I send?" Skywarp asked, something that felt decidedly abnormal to him, but he was less than inclined to risk the human master's rage.

Miles gave Skywarp a smile. ~I'll take care of my end,~ he said, absolutely intending the pun after what had happened the last time he was on the Seeker's desk. ~What you sent before was powerful and _very_ stimulating, almost frighteningly so, but it was only your own sensations and overload that were actually painful. If you can try to block or filter that, it will go much better, for both of us.~

~I can do that,~ he nodded and settled in his chair, only paying partial attention to Miles as he set up the feedback loop filters.

Miles lay back and closed his eyes, focusing on the very wise old spark on the other end of the connection, well aware that he was sharing with a spark that could change the course of history for his kind. Suddenly what was about to do felt far more serious. Skywarp, even as a 'Con might have simply chosen to kill him as soon as he knew whom Miles belonged with, even as a scientist who could have easily chosen to simply dissect him, was an amazing being, and Miles was strangely humbled by what he was about to do.

~Thanks ... for letting me do this. It may sound strange to you after capturing me and experimenting on me and stuff, but it really is an honor to have been the first one to feed your spark this way.~


	32. Hunting Pleasure 16: Mission Report

**Fandom:** Transformers Bayverse (POV'verse)  
**Author:** gatekat and femme4jack on LJ  
**Pairing:** Jazz/Prowl/Miles Lancaster  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Codes:** Slash, Xeno (Transformer/Human)  
**Summary:** Jazz returns from his scouting mission with a lot of news and just as much frustration.  
**Notes:** Written in the Point of View fanverse (community .livejournal .com/tf_matrix)  
**"text"** translated Cybertronian.

* * *

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Hunting Pleasure 16: Mission Report

* * *

Ratchet stood with his arms crossed over his chassis, watching Prime try not to fidget and Prowl pretend to be fine. Very soon the TIC would either turn his emotional center back on or he'd be in medbay so Ratchet could do so. For now, as much as he hated it, it was for the best to leave things be. An irrational, protective-driven Prowl was not a good thing. Mixed with a Jazz in the same state and the pair of them were as bad as the Unmaker. Literally nothing was safe.

**"Skyfire and Jazz have landed,"** Prowl announced.

**"Is he in condition to make his report immediately?"** Prime asked, well aware of the danger of the mission he had ordered his SIC to complete and that in his unemotional state Prowl was not going to give any clues.

**"Yes sir,"** Prowl responded immediately. **"He sustained no damage. He is ... excited. Good news, apparently."**

Prime's posture immediately relaxed, as did Ratchet's. **"Excellent. Good news is a welcome change. Any indication on how Miles is?"** Prime could have waited for Jazz, but his anxiety about the young socket had left him in a dark mood since learning of his abduction.

Prowl paused momentarily, no doubt asking his bonded. **"He suffered some physical and emotional trauma, but was in good condition and excellent spirit when Jazz left."**

Optimus nodded, and finally allowed himself to sit at his desk. **"I am relieved to hear it. Prowl, I intend to speak with your bonded about his socket nanite protocols once we have heard his report. It is important that you be present. I am going to insist that he inform Miles of what he did when the boy returns and is condition to hear it."**

**"He will fight you on that,"** Prowl warned calmly. **"He still does not view himself as an Autobot first."**

**"I am well aware of that,"** Optimus replied, sounding tired. **"But there are some issues of consent I simply cannot overlook. Miles never signed up to be a soldier. He is, by his own species understanding, only barely an adult."**

**"I understand and agree, sir,"** Prowl responded, his head turning towards Prime's office door before it opened to reveal the small silver mech with a wide smirk on his face.

**"Have a seat, all of you,"** Optimus rumbled, returning his SICs smirk with a relieved smile of his own. **"By the expression on your face, it appears things went well for you on the Nemesis, Jazz."**

**"Yap,"** he chipped happily. **"Miles is doing great, Skywarp grabbed him for his own curiosity. Next to no one knows he's even there. But what's _really_ interesting is what Skywarp told him, even knowing he was with me'n Prowler."**

**"My designation is Prowl,"** he interrupted.

Jazz just sighed and gave his bonded a resigned look before picking up his story once more. **"The Seekers, even now, despise the generator system. For completely different reasons than us, but still. Anyway, Skywarp seems to think that Starscream is honest-to-Primus broken in the processors and we can fix him."**

**"Primus!"**, Ratchet exclaimed, learning forward, optics bright with interest. **"He said that? To Miles? Of his own Winglord?"** Ratchet's processors were racing with the possibilities. **"Did he say _how_ the damage happened, or what sort of damage he thought it was?"**

**"You believe Skywarp was being honest with Miles?"** Prime added, his own optics blazing with excitement.

**"At least mostly honest,"** Jazz nodded to Prime. **"He was _way_ too stressed, fighting his programming too hard, to get out what he did. If he'd been under orders it wouldn't have been nearly that difficult. Take it with a grain of rust to be sure, but it's good intel in my opinion. He blamed Primus for rejecting Screamer and the Unmaker for doing the actual damage while he was in a generator charging and away from his trine."**

Ratchet shuttered his optics briefly, recalling the one time he had stayed aware while charging. **"If Starscream did not fully shut down while in the generators, it certainly could have damaged him over time. I was only connected fully aware for a couple nanokliks and could hardly stand the agony. The protocols were always to be in full recharge, but I could see Starscream only partially shutting down due to his own inherent distrust of those around him. Wheeljack did significant damage to his own processors by refusing to shut down while he was on C'chukt's homeworld. Perceptor and Alpha Trion _were_ able to correct much of it, but we are all aware that some of the damage remains. Even if a few of Starscream's systems were online but he lacked conscious awareness, the damage could be severe over time."**

**"And he's been doing it a long time, far longer than Jack did,"** Jazz nodded as he filed tidbits away for later.

**"Would I be correct in extrapolating that Skywarp believes the majority of Seekers would, at least passively, agree to our fixing Starscream's processors, and it will be to our advantage if we do?"** Prowl regarded his bonded evenly.

**"Yap,"** Jazz grinned broadly. **"He said that the Seekers will follow the Winglord. If we get the Winglord, we'll get them. He suggested doing whatever you did to me, but that won't work,"** he snickered a bit.

**"The damage may be unrepairable at this point, or it could take vorns to repair and there might not be much left of him when we were through."** Ratchet mused. **"Wouldn't it be simpler to eliminate him and allow another Winglord to arise? If they hate the generators, could we hope that the new Winglord would go neutral?"**

**"Skywarp said that no matter how Starscream goes down for good the next Winglord is likely to remain with Megatron,"** Jazz shook his head. **"The generators have damaged them all to some extent, putting their desire for battle and glory ahead of most of their social programming. The Winglord is still the master, but if you remember back, even our Seekers were pretty Con-like in a lot of ways. If we want to take them off the field, we have to capture and fix the Winglord, whoever it is at the time. At least with Starscream he is well established and a few vorns in our care won't remove his status. A new Winglord might not be that set in the ranks."**

Prime considered the question for a moment. **"There is also a categorical difference to the rest of the Seekers between our assassinating their Winglord and repairing his damage. If we killed Starscream, the next Winglord would very likely remain allied to Megatron, if only for the possibility of vengeance. Do you think that Skywarp and Thundercracker would actively, or at least passively assist us in the capture? Taking Starscream alive is no easy task."**

**"Passive is the best we get to hope for,"** Jazz said firmly. **"There's no way either could be more active than Skywarp already has been, and I doubt he could have said as much as he did with a mech around. I'm sure he only got as far as he did because he's been brought up and pressured into continuing to believe that organics are smart animals at the most. It allowed him to get around the protocols against actively speaking against his Winglord and trine."**

Prime tapped his desk thoughtfully. **"It seems that your socket's abduction may have given us one of the best advantages we've had. The Seekers are Megatron's single greatest advantage over us. If they went neutral..."** Prime's voice faded. The hope in his expression was evident. **"I want you and Prowl to begin to draw up plans for Starscream's capture, but first we get Miles back."**

**"Yes, sir,"** Prowl inclined his helm slightly in acknowledgment.

**"Is there anything else you need to report before we begin negotiations with Skywarp?"** Prime looked at Jazz.

Jazz nearly bounced on his pedes. **"He was surprised to find Miles still in his cage when he came into his lab after recharge,"** he grinned, his optic band bright. **"Apparently once he found out who he belonged to he expected me to grab him as soon as no one was looking, so he's planning to ask for a few cubes of vintage Vosian Seeker high-grade, I think he'll be happy to be negotiated down to two or three cubes. It was a personal project grab. He and his lab assistant are the only ones who probably know Miles is there. Oh, and all that intel on the Winglord came _after_ he found out who Miles went with. He knew even if I wasn't listening in, I'd know soon. It was definitely intended to get to us."**

At that news, Optimus smiled. **"I'd be more than willing to give up a cube or three for your socket. I know where to obtain more."** Optimus gave Jazz and Prowl a pointed look while simultaneously comming Blaster to begin the negotiations. **"How did Miles get him to open up? Or did he grab Miles _because_ of whom he is with, intending to this information to us?"**

**"So do I,"** Jazz grinned again, nearly snickering. **"By what he told Miles, it was just his first opportunity. Miles had a socket installed and didn't have any mechs around. Apparently the socket technology has peeked Skywarp's interest. Adding a declassified file of how to construct, install and use one without telling him he's getting it as part of the exchange might be a good idea. From what I gathered, Skywarp got ganged up on with Starscream in medbay and Thundercracker off flying. Came into the lab pretty beaten up. Miles just did what he's good at and started talking."**

Optimus gave a subtle look at Ratchet and the medic excited, leaving him alone with his two senior officers. **"I take it Miles shared with him willingly, then? Giving 'Cons their first taste of that kind of energy could _almost_ be worth a few more carefully watched seemingly chance encounters if we could train up some human special ops agents for the task. It is something I've considered in the past with our sockets who are military trained, but we'd never been in position to press that advantage to the extant that we are now."**

**"He did,"** Jazz nodded. **"The second time was even at his suggestion. Just because the nanites in him are set to only need consent from him doesn't mean I'd leave him unprotected. If he'd fought sharing, the nanites would have lashed out at the mech."**

The segue couldn't have been better for Optimus to bring up the topic that was sure to take the bounce out of his SIC's step. As excited as he was for the intelligence Jazz brought back, his anger with the saboteur had not lessened, and as diplomatic as he could be in public, he was not one to mince words with his officers or soldiers.

**"I'm relieved that you have left him some protections, Jazz, though after learning what else you programmed into his nanites, I'm concerned that the one he needs the most protection from is you."**

**"What?"** The words blindsided Jazz to an extent he didn't even react with anger, only bewildered surprise.

**"You programmed Miles, a civilian organic who is barely an adult by his species standards, with spec ops kill protocols, without his knowledge or permission. That makes you dangerous to him. Do you care to explain your actions?"**

Optimus knew what was likely to come next. Jazz did not care to explain his actions to anyone. He watched his SIC go from confused to surprised to irritated to furious, and debated the wisdom of bringing this up while Prowl still had his emotional center turned off. A furious Jazz was an irrational Jazz, and an irrational Jazz tended to make bad choices.

**"I protect my sockets as best I can, Prime,"** came the hiss of a reply. **"That means making them as unappealing a target as possible for anyone who knows who they are."**

Optimus remained calm, but his optics were like ice, and any who knew him, knew the deadly anger that could erupt whenever he chose to allow it to.

He also knew full well that Jazz saw it, understood it and didn't care he was staring death in the face defiantly.

**"You did so without his consent. You put kill protocols in the organic who has agreed to _give you life_ for the rest of his days. These relationships are uneven enough as it is without adding this element. Not to mention that the two of you didn't even _need_ to claim a socket. You _wanted_ to. There are plenty who would share with each of you individually as you needed it. As far as I can see, you did this for your pleasure and your convenience, and then violated his basic sentient rights so that you could feel safe enough having someone close to you who could be compromised."**

**"The issue is not the program,"** Prowl spoke up, drawing his bonded's attention from Prime. **"The issue is not informing him first. With a 91.957% chance he would agree if he had known, why not inform him?"**

It only took Prime a nanoklik to realize that the move was utterly deliberate with the single purpose of diverting the violence building in Jazz away from him. Did Prowl really believe that Jazz would do something _that_ stupid?

_Of course he does,_ the back of Prime's processors informed him rather curtly. _With his emotional center turned off, he's responding only to the numbers. How likely is this to turn violent or irreparably damage Jazz's ability to remain an Autobot is all that registers._

**"For the same reason I don't inform my own,"** Jazz snapped, though much of the tension of impending action had bled from his frame. **"Knowing it's coming you fight it unless you are _prepared_ to die. When you fight it, it _hurts_ to go down and doesn't always work. That's even more true in organics. You've seen it. Go dig in your memory banks for what happens when a junior agent _knows_ their about to have the kill-protocols activated."**

Prime sat silent for several long seconds, considering his words as the pair continued to snipe back and forth. When he did speak, it was with a quiet finality. **"Miles is not a junior agent, no matter how well he performed during his abduction. You may _not_ treat your sockets as you do your agents. You have a choice whether to claim an organic. If you insist that this is what you must do in order to claim, it can only be with their consent. You will tell Miles what you have done, and give him the option to have the programming changed, and the option to end the claim should he feel he can no longer trust you."**

Jazz snapped around to face him once more, his frame taunt as his internal debate ran.

**"Yes, Prime,"** Jazz almost managed to sound like he accepted the order, though all three in the room knew it would take time and likely at least one more very explosive argument with his bonded before it was actually settled.

For Prime though, it was over. If Jazz submitted to Prowl's will, it would be done. If he didn't, he would be informed that his SIC was leaving, mostly likely by his new SIC.

* * *

Miles woke up, or rather was woken up when he felt a cable disengage from his socket and found himself in Skywarp's talons at an abandoned airfield in a nondescript desert location. Much to Miles gratitude, the Seeker had connected to put the blond under for the several jumps he took to the hand off site. He was quickly but gently set down on the ground, where he started scanning the skies for any sign of whatever or whoever was going to land to make the trade.

"They should be here momentarily," the Seeker said quietly.

Miles felt his heart start to race in excitement. "So how many cubes did you end up getting?"

"Three," he answered before his attention locked on a spot to the south. "Skyfire," he pointed to the location the human had no ability to see, but could still follow until the dot appeared for him. "With Prime and Ratchet if they kept their word."

Miles momentarily deflated, having expected two very different mechs to be meeting him, but quickly shook it off, watching as Skyfire approached, making a swift and graceful landing unlike any an earth made jet could ever match.

"Well, dude, I appreciated your hospitality. Thanks for not dissecting me."

"You earned your fate," the Seeker told him in what Miles suspected was as close to 'you're welcome' as he was capable of.

They watched in silence as Prime, then Ratchet disembarked and walked towards them, Skyfire remaining as a Cybertronian shuttle behind them. Even Miles could feel the tension in all three bipedal mechs.

Prime stopped two of Skywarp's height away and spread his hands, open to show he carried nothing.

Miles couldn't help but wonder at the gesture with a race that had so many built-in weapons and that subspace trick where things were invisible and undetectable. Still, it seemed to work.

**"Prime, Ratchet,"** Skywarp greeted them. "As you can see, I have kept my word. He is here an unharmed."

**"Skywarp,"** Prime inclined his head in acceptance of the greeting and assertion. "Once Ratchet has ensured he truly is healthy, I have brought the agreed on payment."

At a nod from Skywarp, Ratchet walked forward toward Miles, conducting a low level scan. While he showed some signs of stress and most certainly was physically raped at least once, he was in far better condition than they could have hoped, considering what ship he had been held on.

"Physically his condition is acceptable," Ratchet said, switching to English for Miles' benefit. "I would like to scan him for any issues relating to his mind or nanites." Without waiting for permission, Ratchet knelt and offered a special medical interface cable for Miles to plug in, strengthening his own firewalls on the chance that the Seeker had left something behind in Miles that could be damaging.

Miles did so, and endured the impersonal and thorough scan conducted from behind what he perceived as a thick barrier. A quick brush of comfort/affection and Ratchet disconnected.

"I'll want to take a closer look later, but everything checks out to me."

**"True Seekers are good to their word,"** Skywarp said, doing his best to keep his anger that even that much had been lost to the war and betrayals. He focused on Prime. **"The energon."**

Prime nodded and brought three heavily shielded containers, their seals completely intact, and offered them to Skywarp for inspection.

A small sound of surprise escaped the Seeker when he inspected the seals and markings. Vintage Vosian Seeker high grade was good no matter what, but this was of excellent quality even before the war.

"Satisfactory?" Prime prompted calmly after a moment.

**"Yes,"** Skywarp quickly nodded.

"Ratchet, take Miles to Skyfire," Prime ordered calmly. **"Skywarp, there is one other thing we agreed you may have,"** he held out a data chip. **"It is the information needed to create a socket program of you own. Jazz indicated you took acceptable care of your other pets."**

The Seeker cycled his optics a couple times, surprised to hear anything good said of him by the Autobot SIC, but reached out for the chip despite his misgivings. He could scan it for malicious code later.

**"Then we are done here, Lord Prime?"** he offered an extra bit of respect.

**"Yes, Winglord's Vision,"** Prime earned another look of surprise for the correct use of his Seeker title and perfect pronunciation.

Skywarp nodded and stepped back before launching into the air and winking out of existence.

Miles could recognize Ratchet's mother hen mood as soon as he was picked up and cradled against the CMO's chest as he strode toward Skyfire.

"I'm fine," Miles said from inside hands that seemed to be trying to shelter him from the world at large.

"You were raped," Ratchet bluntly stated.

"It really could have been a lot worse," Miles replied with a mirthless laugh. "The dude who raped me _didn't_ want to and tried to keep it as gentle. It was meant to be consensual ... well as consensual as something can when you are told to do it and threatened that another human would be captured if you didn't."

Ratchet grumbled, thoroughly unconvinced as Prime joined them.

"You may speak freely Miles. Skywarp can not find out what you say, and neither will Jazz or Prowl if you do not wish them to," Prime said carefully.

Miles gave Optimus a questioning look. "Why wouldn't I want Jazz or Prowl to know what happened? They were what really kept me going, or at least the versions of them in my head." He debated whether he should tell Optimus that Jazz had contacted him on the Nemesis. His body would show the nondisclosure like a lie most likely, yet at the same time, his first loyalty was to Jazz and Prowl.

"Not everyone wishes the mechs that claimed them to know they were hurt," Prime said gently as the three settled in for the flight to Diego Garcia. "I merely offered if you wished them not to know. Jazz in particular is prone to taking risks when someone he has claimed is injured."

Miles made a decision. "I'm sure he knows. I know he was there. He came to me shortly after it happened, as soon as Skywarp left the room. The bond was strong there. He was able to give me ideas of what questions to ask Skywarp once the dude opened up to me."

"Unusual to be able to communicate that way so soon after a claim," Ratchet commented, wondering just how exactly Jazz coded his claiming nanites.

"Jazz is unusual," Miles shrugged.

"A lucky mix of circumstances, then," Prime said calmly. "I am sure Jazz and Prowl will be waiting when we land. This has been particularly stressful for Prowl. I am not sure how long it will take for him to regain his emotional equilibrium, though he said firmly that he wants to see you as soon as we land."

"I was hoping they'd be along," Miles commented mournfully. "Here I was looking forward to a nice little vacation in Costa Rica with my mechs ... shit! Are my mom and Virginia ok? And Ascuncion and Serafina? Oh my God ... did Skywarp do anything to them when he grabbed me?" Miles was suddenly very agitated, his heart racing. He hadn't even _thought_ about his family while he was captive, and suddenly felt supremely selfish that he'd only been thinking about himself and getting back to Jazz and Prowl.

"Calm down, Miles." Ratchet heated his outer armor and extended a soothing EM field over the human he was still holding from where he was seated in Skyfire's bay. "Your family is fine. Nothing happened to them except panic that they saw Skywarp and suddenly you were gone, in just a little under three seconds."

The youth sighed in relief, "If something happened to them because of me ... I don't even want to think about it. So ... do they know now? About you guys? How did you explain this to them? Do they know I'm ok?"

"They know what they saw, though they are not aware of aliens or what your lovers are," Prime responded. "The team on the ground did their best to convince them that it was an understandable, but classified, event. A US military project. They should not ask, and you should not answer questions any more than you would to a random human. They do know you are all right."

Miles sighed at that. It was the only thing that bothered him about his current life, but he had agreed to it long before he came to Diego Garcia. The US Government's response to having a number of people aware of the alien presence on earth was to get as many of them as possible working on base where they could be watched and monitored to avoid leaks. So far Sam's parents had resisted. Miles jumped at the chance. Who knew that accidentally stumbling on Bumblebee recharging in Sam's back yard in his base form and ending up having to sign his entire life away in nondisclosure forms would have led him to where he was currently sitting, naked, on Ratchet's lap? And speaking of naked...

"You didn't by any chance bring any clothes for me? I have no idea what Skywarp did with my swimtrunks."

Ratchet looked at the human as though noticing for the first time that he was nude. "Primus! It didn't even occur to me. I wasn't aware you'd be without clothing ... Jazz didn't say anything about it." The medic looked as though that oversight might earn the SIC a dent from his favorite wrench. He quickly brought a large polishing cloth out of subspace and laid it over the young man.

"Thanks dude. It was getting a bit old. Not like I have fur to cover me up." Miles pulled the cloth up a little higher on himself, obviously relieved. "So what do the two of you want to know? I'm assuming Jazz told you everything that Skywarp said."

::He is in awfully good spirits for someone who just went through abduction and captivity. You want me to run a deeper scan to see if something is damaged or if Jazz has done something to the boy's mind?:: Ratchet's tone was a mixture of amusement and concern as he commed Prime.

::All things considered, a complete, deep physical would be warranted when we get back to base,:: Prime decided. ::Preferably before Jazz gets any time alone with him. It is possible this is merely his way of coping. We know the atrocities some mechs can witness, commit and suffer and come home cheerful.:: He focused on Miles. "I am curious what you learned in your own words, especially about things that weren't said."

Miles looked thoughtful. "You know, I think what surprised me the most was that he wasn't at all what I was expecting from a 'Con. He was not intentionally cruel, although I have no doubt he was telling the truth when he said that if I didn't cooperate he'd use me for live dissection. Once he knew I would cooperate, he seemed more curious than anything else, like there was stuff he genuinely didn't get and wanted to understand, and was concerned for my well being, at least physically."

Miles looked down for a moment and swallowed. "That isn't to say that he didn't hurt me. He did, and it was awful. But it wasn't intentional. The first time he plugged in he didn't filter any of his own feedback, and when he overloaded it was probably the most painful thing I've ever felt, even though it was over the instant he disconnected. No injury, just horrible, horrible pain. It made me realize how much you dudes filter the stuff we get back...even the sensations of your sparks being fed. Unfiltered, it is raw, and really terrifying in its intensity. I offered the second time 'cause I thought that anything our side could do to build good will with him was a good idea, and because it was so obvious how good it was for him the first time. He was much more careful the second time around, and it was good, for both of us. I think he was really surprised by _how_ good it was."

Miles could physically feel Ratchet's anger building underneath him as he described the unfiltered feedback. The medic was silent, waiting to see what Prime would say, but he was seething.

"I see," Prime said carefully. "You did a truly exceptional job of working the situation to your and our best advantage. As much as I regret you had to experience any of it, the information and insights may well turn the war and save an entire breed of our kind," he offered with complete sincerity. "It would be good for you to speak with a psychologist, either human or mech. No matter how you feel now, you have suffered a great deal."

"Miles," Ratchet added, in a gentle tone that contrasted with his obvious anger, "unfiltered sharing could have easily injured you, both mentally and emotionally, making it difficult for you to ever feel comfortable sharing again. I am honestly amazed that you were able to _offer_ to share with Skywarp after experiencing that. I agree with Prime. Talking with someone about it will be important to you. It is possible that there will be post traumatic symptoms that arise for you in time, making it difficult for you to connect."

Miles looked uncomfortable. "I've always been someone who moves on fast. I'm just glad something good ... really good can come out of this. It makes it feel like it was more than worth it. I mean, you dudes have had to suffer a lot, more than I could ever imagine to try to keep organics from getting destroyed. It seems like a couple of days of shit that could have been a whole lot worse isn't something to complain about, especially if it makes a difference. I'll talk with someone if I need to. I've got no problem with that, but I think just sharing with Jazz and Prowl again will help make things feel okay."

"As you wish," Prime inclined his head, though Miles had no doubt he was not comfortable with it. "Can you think of anything else that may be of value for me to know?"

"The first mech he had me share with was a white Insecticon named Flitfire. He was small ... not all that much larger than me. He liked it so much that he came back for more in the middle of the night. I tried to convince him to help me escape or come back with me if I was rescued, and he became really uncomfortable because he is loyal to Skywarp, feels like Skywarp protects him from the really bad stuff has happened to him as a physically small 'Con. Warp had me share with him because of Prowl and Jazz ... he wanted to make sure that nothing harmful was gonna happen."

Miles thought for a moment. "Skywarp has several organics. There's a predator-avian named Kawlekee who actually belongs to 'Cracker, 'cept he doesn't have a permit to have organics. I saw Thundercracker take her out, and never saw him bring her back. The both seemed really fond of her, and she was always excited to see them. There was also a snake-like reptile named Slither. He said he wasn't able to study her species before they were all harvested for the generators. In fact, he said that the reason he keeps his subjects so long is that he doesn't want them to go to the generator."

Prime shifted in real surprise. "Skywarp admitted _affection_ for organics?"

"He said he would not want his subjects to go to the generators. That has to be some level of affection, or at least compassion. Whether he admitted to it or not, he obviously showed it, and I could hear it in the tone of his voice. Thundercracker showed obvious affection to the avian, and it was excited to see him. Oh, and Skywarp brought live prey in for the avian to hunt."

"That is ... remarkably affectionate for a Decepticon," Prime mused.

"That's nearly courting behavior for a Seeker," Ratchet snorted with a great gust of air from his facial vents.

Miles snickered. "Put some sockets in their necks, and you might find you don't even _need_ to fix Starscream."

"Perhaps, but it is still in our best interests to attempt to do so," Prime chuckled himself. "Were there any others?"

At this question Miles became more serious and both Ratchet and Prime could sense a spike in his heart rate, respiration and stress hormones.

"The most intelligent was Radfire," he said more quietly. "He's a lion-like feline about the size of a really large tiger ... like almost saber-toothed size." Miles looked down, reluctant to say more in front of Optimus, whom he had never really spoken with before now.

"How are you sure he was intelligent?" Prime asked kindly, keenly interested, but sensitive to Miles' agitation.

Miles swallowed his pride, knowing that details could be important. "Skywarp wanted me to mate with Radfire, said he was the only one intelligent enough to mate purely for pleasure. But it's not just that. He had a language that Skywarp used, and he also just behaved like a sentient, thinking, empathetic person. If he hadn't been intelligent, his drive would have simply caused him to take me, hard. Instead, he kept trying to get me to respond, even offered to let me top him, and when it was finally obvious that I couldn't, I gave him a look and it was just obvious he understood. When he took me, he was incredibly gentle for how large he was ... like he knew how much it must be hurting and injuring me. I'm amazed he could hold himself back, considering how it must have felt to him, but he did. I would have been far more injured if he had simply been an animal acting on instinct."

Ratchet again used his EM field to sooth the youth. He was relieved to see Miles finally getting flustered. It was actually a sign of emotional health considering what he had gone through. "I know it's hard to talk about Miles, but it is important, not just for you, but also because anything that happened could be important intelligence. There is nothing for you to be ashamed of. This was done to you, and you behaved in a manner that not only likely saved your own life, but also could possibly save the lives of countless others in the future if the intelligence you were able to gather leads to what we hope it could."

Miles nodded and took a deep breath. "Skywarp was connected to me, and was shocked I was in so much pain. He stopped Radfire and then made me explain just why it was so painful. He didn't understand the issue of the size difference and the fact that human males don't produce their own lubrication. He gave me some sort of silvery cream for the injuries, and it helped heal them in a matter of a few hours. He also noticed I was cold and made sure to get me some more of some fluffy stuff he had put in my cage as bedding."

Prime nodded his understanding. "So, in his own way, Skywarp cared for your well-being, and truly didn't understand that what he was asking you to do was something you would not enjoy. How well cared for are the others? Did you manage to communicate with them other than by body language?"

Miles managed to look at Prime's face, if not his optics. "Only body language. I have a feeling that if I had spent more time with Radfire, we could have at least begun to figure out a way to communicate. As far as I could tell, Skywarp took excellent care of the organics there. The only issue is that they are captive. He said that he continues to learn more about them as the years go by. He appeared to _enjoy_ speaking to me about them."

"I doubt he is able to speak of them in such a manner to other Decepticons, even Thundercracker," Prime suggested, trying to keep his excitement mostly hidden both out of respect for Miles' trauma and to avoid questions he did not want to have to answer. "If you expressed interest, it was no doubt a welcome outlet for him."

"It really could have been so much worse," Miles noted, yet again. "I honestly feel really lucky, and in a freaky way, I'm glad I met him. Once Jazz was there and Skywarp started opening up, I honestly felt just fine. I couldn't believe the stuff that was coming out of my mouth and how he responded. If I knew someone had my back, I'd probably be willing to do that again ... share with an unconvinced 'Con."

"That is not a position I would wish for you to be in anytime soon," Ratchet commented, feeling fiercely protective of the human he still held on his lap.

"Agreed," Prime said. "Perhaps when we have gathered more intel on who is most inclined to listen to reason, but not soon."

Miles nodded and settled in Ratchet's hands for the rest of the flight.


	33. Sunny Side Up 8: The Bride from Burma

**Fandom:** Transformers Bayverse (POV'verse)  
**Author:** gatekat, prophetbot and femme4jack on LJ  
**Pairing:** Sunstreaker/Sideswipe/Hgwa Ma-le  
**Rating:** NC-17 for mech/female  
**Codes:** Sticky, Het, Xeno (Transformer/Human), Dub-Con  
**Summary:** Ma-le finally meets her intended husbands  
**Notes:** Written in the Point of View fanverse (community .livejournal .com/tf_matrix)  
"text" any human language, spoken or translated through the socket  
**"text"** translated Cybertronian.  
** Note:** Continues events found in Hunting Pleasure chs. 10-14  
**Wa-Su:** the creator god of the Lisu people.** Swamx:** vampire-like spirits worshiped in by the Hill Tribes

* * *

****

Sunny Side Up 8: The Bride from Burma

* * *

Ma-le sat on a human sized bed perched atop one of the large table-like berths in the Autobot medbay. It had been a day since the surgery installing her socket, which she continued to find herself fingering curiously. It didn't exactly hurt, but there was a strong sense of it being alien to her, something of the spirits and the gods. The Swawmx shaman, or medic, she reminded herself, had been a shock to her. Kuhn Jazz would have only come up to just above the medic's waist, and, according to Mikaela, Kuhn Ratchet's human wife, Kuhn Sideswipe and Kuhn Sunstreaker were quite a bit taller than the gigantic being who had performed her surgery and afterward had spoken directly into her mind just as Kuhn Jazz had before

Through the swawmx magic, Kuhn Ratchet had set her socket up to automatically make her understand the languages other humans spoke through what he called the wireless network (translated in her own language as ?air village?). When she asked whether the swawmx would use the same network, Kuhn Ratchet had told her that the Autobots were able to learn her language in only a few seconds, and thus did not need the translation. He added that she would understand the language of the swawmx if they spoke very slowly, but when they spoke at normal speed, her own mind would not be able to keep up with the translation.

It was clear that Kuhn Mikaela and Kuhn Ratchet were uncomfortable about her, and both had repeatedly inquired as to whether she was sure she wanted to be there, to have the swawmx magic put in her neck, and especially to 'share with' the trickster god, Sideswipe, and the artist warrior god, Sunstreaker. She was baffled by their questions. Her bride price, $1500 US had been paid in cash to her family. To turn that down would have been insanity. It not only ensured her family?s survival but the prosperity of her whole village over the next several years, not to mention Kuhn Jazz's indications that the swawmx would likely help the entire nation of Burma as well. To top it off, her family would be receiving $250 a year for being separated from her. Ma-le felt happier and more relaxed that she could remember feeling. She was finally doing something to help, far more help than she'd been able to give before. She was making the Tiger clan's name great and pleasing the ancestors. What more could she wish for? Yet the western girl acted as though the whole marriage was something appalling. Ma-Le could only assume that the American was disgusted that two such renowned warrior-gods were marrying someone who had been sold as a prostitute. Privately Ma-Le scoffed at the young woman. Who was she to question the will of the gods and the ancestors?

That this whole arrangement was pleasing to the ancestors, the village spirits, and Wa-Su himself had been established without a doubt. She privately had admitted to her mother that she was destined for not just to one god, but two, who were twins. Her father did not need to know this, as a woman marrying two husbands would scandalize a Lisu man. But women were far more flexible in their thinking. It was the way Wa-Su had created them. Just like the ancestors, her mother whispered, in awe that the ways of the distant ancestors were again coming to pass. The Lisu believed that all of the hill tribes were originally created when the offspring of Wu-Sa, who were all twins, and each set of twins married one another to produce the distinctive tribes.

"And, mama," she had said, "They are able to transform themselves into other forms, just like beginning of the clans!" Every Lisu knew that the major clans of their villages had all begun when the daughters of the golden twins had each copulated with a different spirit who took the form of a living animal or plant. In the case of their clan, their ancestress had married the Tiger, creating the Tiger clan. For the Lisu, a spirit taking the form of a sports car was not much of a stretch.

Ma-Le, with her mother and sisters had quietly slipped away while Jazz was introduced to the other eligible girls of the village. They went to the house of the village shaman to consult him about the identities of the gods Ma-Le was destined for. Normally women did not bother much with the rituals of the men. They worshipped the spirits and gods in their own manner, by doing their work with joy and bringing honor to their families and clans. But in this case, Ma-Le?s mother felt that it was appropriate to turn to the rituals of the men. They quietly spoke with the Shaman who, after consulting the spirits, told them that the warrior-artist was a new god, unknown to her tribe and clan, named Arun-Shwe, the golden sun. He was a foreign god, but he was destined to bring the nation back to its people. The trickster-warrior was a figure very familiar to the Lisu, though his legend came from a different tribe. He was Mvkang, the ancient trickster who with his wits could bring down an entire village or nation. He, too, was destined to bring an end to the junta that had oppressed them so long, just as he had brought an end to the elders who had mocked him. As for Jazz, the Shaman showed them through signs that he was Xo-Po, the much-feared spirit of death whose name was rarely if ever uttered aloud. But in this case, the Shaman said, still under the influence of the spirits, Xo-Po was death to the enemies of the Lisu, and indeed, the enemies of all of Wa-Su's children.

Remembering that revelation, Ma-Le thought about Jazz, whom she had not seen since he had literally jumped from their transport to get a faster ride to base to rescue his captured human husband. None of the acceptable girls Jazz had met had been of an appropriate age to bring to his village, though it was possible arrangements would be made for them to live there until they were of the correct age for swawmx marriage. This left Ma-Le alone with a group of human soldiers, and rather frightened, until she had arrived and was informed by a man who was able to speak Thai that she was not to speak of the capture of the human, nor to say anything about Jazz's absence. While she knew that as Xo-Po, Jazz could only be stopped by Wa-Su himself, she hoped that his Miles had been recovered, even if the smallest part of her wondered Jazz might consider taking her as a bride in his place should the boy not come home. Any girl would be hard pressed not to fall in love with the silver swawmx of death, whichever form he took. Being married to death himself would certainly have its advantages.

She heard a door open and close, and the whisper-soft steps and mechanical sounds of one of the swawmx approaching. Only one she had encountered was so quiet in his movements, and that was Jazz.

Ma-le practically jumped out of the bed. "Kuhn Jazz! I am so relieved you have returned. Is everything well with you? Is your Miles alright?"

"Yes," he smiled and easily collected her in his arms. "He is recovering, but he will be fine," Jazz assured her.

His manner was flawlessly cheerful and friendly, but something in his smell, the way he held her, made her absolutely certain that he was still very upset about events.

"Come, it's time to meet your husbands," he said with forced cheerfulness.

"I look forward to meeting them, Kuhn Jazz ... but ... you are not well. What is it that does not please you?" She fell naturally into the manner of a woman of her tribe whose role it see and soothe the pain and sorrow a warrior would not allow any but his own wife to witness.

"Miles was badly injured while he was a prisoner," he answered quietly. "My mate and Prime are still very angry with my actions in freeing him."

Ma-le nodded, understanding the seriousness of the situation. It was never good to have one's leader or one's mate angry. When harmony was disrupted in a family or village, if affected everyone and made the spirits uneasy. "The important thing is that you were able to free him, Kuhn Jazz, and if anyone is able to restore harmony to your family and village, I am certain you can."

She saw the softness of a real smile spread across his face a bit. He was still very stressed, but he seemed to feel a little better at her words.

"Thanks, Ma-le," his voice softened as he walked out into the main medbay, then into the humid heat of his homeland. "I'm sure things will settle down too. Do you have any questions before I introduce you to Arun-Shwe and Mvkang?"

The only question Ma-le could think of at that moment was the one it would be dishonorable to ask. She certainly was not the first to be given to someone else in marriage when she would have preferred another. Just being in Jazz's presence again made her body ache for him. She hoped she would ache for her god-husbands in the same way.

The enormity of what was coming was sinking in, and she finally asked. "What if Mvkang and Arun-ye aren't pleased with me, Kuhn Jazz? Will I be sent back home?"

"Very unlikely," he shook his head. "Miles has already expressed interest in bringing you into my house as a second socket. I like you, and I know my mate well enough to know he would agree to you. There are also at least a dozen mechs on base that would find you interesting enough to court you."

"I am honored that you have been pleased enough with me to consider that, Kuhn Jazz. I look forward to meeting your Miles," she said with soft formality, trying her best to keep the sadness and regret out of her voice. She had learned from birth about honor and duty and putting the needs of one's family and people before he own desires. It led to harmony, and made everyone happier, while following only one's own desires led, ultimately, to sadness.

"The Twins will be good to you," he promised as they neared one of the larger buildings, larger than any she had ever seen. "I think you will find them agreeable husbands and as pleasurable to be with as I was."

"And I will strive to bring honor to you and my father for arranging the match," she said, offering him her sweet smile as he climbed a set of stairs designed for his kind along the side and up to the second floor.

The door opened when he approached, showing a cavernous space that felt like her entire village could fit inside just this main room. Unbidden came the statement that her husbands were larger than anyone else she'd seen yet.

**"Sunstreaker, enough with the polishing. Get your aft over here and greet Ma-le,"** Jazz called out sharply in Cybertronian when the pair were not immediately apparent.

There was a low growl in warning from the golden mech that emerged after the silver one.

**"Do I look like the host to you?"** he retorted, rubbing a hand against his shoulder that was still partially missing small lines of paint. He had his brother to thank for that, and didn't cease his constant glaring looks of distaste that he sent in his twin's direction for the knowledge of it. **"That's _glitch_'s job. By the way, thanks for knocking."**

There was a scoff from Jazz, but Sunstreaker?s optics rested on the petite female Jazz had in his possession. Feeling his brother looming on him through their bond, he tried to appear less intimidating and more ... well, he couldn't exactly get optimistic, but he settled with indifferent.

They were truly giants, and Ma-Le had never felt so small. She remembered her initial reaction to seeing Jazz in his real body, and realized now how very small he was.

The silver one approached first, something in his manner spoke of respect towards Jazz even though it was the full swagger of a top warrior. "She is quite pretty," he said as he reached out to take her from Jazz. "I'm Sideswipe. My brother is Sunstreaker," he said as he brought her up with relative gentleness to his chest level and turned to face his brother to show her off.

Ma-le bowed her head and offered the wai to each of them, "It brings my father and my village great honor for me to greet you, Kuhn Sideswipe and Kuhn Sunstreaker, whom my own people know as Mvkang and Arun-Shwe,? she spoke with reverence and humility.

Sunstreaker quirked an optic ridge, watching her with a sudden peaked interest. She was rather polite, not like many of the sockets he'd already met and fed off of. **"She _has_ been informed of our ... my tendencies, hasn't she?"** His optics drifted to Jazz, and then returned to her.

**"Of course,"** Jazz flickered his optic band in the equivalent of an eye roll. **"She isn't the first one I've found for you two. Very technologically illiterate, but her energy is potent and sweet, she works hard and this is normal for her."**

"Thank you, Jazz," Sideswipe smiled at the SIC in a patently hopeful dismissal.

**"Just remember that someone's going to be monitoring her state for a couple weeks. No claiming her until then,"** Jazz reminded them with a quirky grin.

**"I remember,"** Sideswipe rolled his optics before Jazz turned to leave.

"Have fun with them, Ma-le," Jazz added over his shoulder. "If you don't enjoy them, we can talk in a few days."

Ma-le was honestly shocked at Jazz's parting statement. Hadn't he paid a bride price, five times higher than any bride price paid in the history of her village? Wives didn't just leave their husbands because they weren't _enjoying_ themselves, but perhaps the swawmx were different in this way. They were, after all, gods and had their own sort of rules. However, she had no intention of dishonoring Jazz or her father by complaining about a marriage that had brought more honor to her family and clan than anything in their tribe's history.

Keeping her expression properly humble, Ma-le asked the two swawmx. "How may I please you both today?"

~You know, if you're keeping her, we're gonna have to introduce her to 'Fire eventually,~ Sunstreaker reminded his brother. He almost chuckled at Ma-le's offer, though, because it already made him like her far more than the little prats he'd had to deal with lately. "Sideswipe was just about to finish my polishing," he began, sending another pointed glare in his twin's direction when the memories flooded into him again. "Maybe you can help him."

~I'll introduce the _very_ big, _very_ young Seeker after the socket is comfortable with us,~ Sideswipe told him. "I'm sure polishing the Dandelion of Doom will be a major activity. If he's not polished up all pretty, no one hears the end of it," he told her even as he teased his brother. "Then we'll introduce you to the calmer version of how he got those marks."

The glare had become more heated at the unwelcome nickname, a low rumble in the stead of a growl piercing the conversation and silence. At least Shimmerfire appreciated his desire to take excellent care of his armor.

Sideswipe's expression shifted briefly to uncertainty as he followed his brother into the washrack. "You did have sex with Jazz, right?"

Ma-le's eyes became wide at Sideswipe's question. She had no choice about answering honestly, but she had no idea how it would be received, though she could not imagine Kuhn Jazz having done anything that would have compromised her honor with the golden and silver swawmx.

"I did, Kuhn Sideswipe. Both in his human form and after he revealed he was a swawmx. I hope this does not displease either of you."

"Nope," Sideswipe said cheerfully with evident relief. "It's a lot easier when we aren't the very first experience."

"Hmph. Of course he did," Sunstreaker mused, clasping a hand against his brother's shoulder and smacking his twin's helm lightly when it came close enough, appearing innocent to having done anything at all.

Sideswipe reached up with his free hand and whacked his brother right back, not at all worrying about appearing innocent. "Well now you have twice the mech to make you feel good," he told Ma-le. "And far less politics. Between Jazz and Prowl I'm amazed they have time for a socket."

Ma-le's hand went in front of her mouth, trying to hold in a giggle at the antics of the two. These gods were like boys from her village.

When she removed her hand, her smile was bright. "I would very much like to please you both that way, once I have completed polishing Kuhn Sunstreaker's armor. Kuhn Jazz did warn me that I would be required to polish frequently."

"A good paint touch up, polish, buff and wax will do _wonders_ to endear you to my brother," Sideswipe grinned, delighted at her reaction. "It goes quite a ways with me after a hard battle, though I'm more fond of being the one doing the doting."

Sunstreaker snorted in annoyance, at both Sideswipe's shameless violence and the knowledge of Jazz's warning. No wonder he was a sociopath. "Tch." He clicked his glossa against the inside of his mouth plates. "Yeah, well, Sideswipe will show you exactly how I like it. Primus knows he's got a helluva lot more work to do."

Carefully, he snatched Ma-le from Sideswipe's hand just enough to give his brother a swift kick in the aft. He then placed the girl on his shoulder, closest to where the majority of the scratches were still evident.

"You weren't objecting when you _got_ those scratches," Sideswipe smirked, though he picked up his polishing and touch-up tools and a box that contained a human-sized set for Ma-le.

Ma-le grinned at both of the brothers, taking the set that Sideswipe offered her. "Please show and tell me exactly how you would like this done. I wish only to please you.?

Sideswipe relaxed into teaching mode, demonstrating as he talked. "The first step is smooth the edge of the scratched pain. You want to make sure that where new paint meets old it won't peal off from underneath. You should never handle the paint. Ratchet says it's safe, but it won't come off you. So Sunny or I will do that part, or a medic if they have to.

"Once the paint is dry, which only takes a few minutes, it needs to be buffed to make the surface perfectly smooth. Then his special wax is applied. Well, there's nothing special about it. It's just the kind he likes."

"It _is_ special," Sunstreaker piped up, scowling again as he was tempted to flick his brother's helm. "It's the kind that 'Fire uses too. You should let me try some on you sometime and you'll notice the difference, brother."

"And smell like you?" he teased. "I don't think so."

Ma-le listened carefully to the explanation. "So have you already smoothed the edges on these scratches, or should I start with that?" she ran her hand along the one closest to her to try to feel for the edge.

"Start with that one," he pointed at one close by. "You'll be able to pick out what has and hasn't been smoothed by sight and touch soon enough."

Looking as though there was nothing she could be more pleased with, Ma-Le began her work.


	34. SSU 9: Married to the Sun and the Moon

**Writers:** femme4jack, gatekat LJ  
**Fandom:** Transformers Bayverse (POV'verse)  
**Pairing:** Sunstreaker/Sideswipe/Hgwa Ma-le  
**Rating:** NC-17 for mech/female  
**Codes:** Het, Slash, Sticky, Xeno (Transformer/human), Twincest  
**Summary:** Ma-le experiences her husbands for the first time.  
**Notes:** Set in the Point of View fanverse at (community .livejournal .com/tf_matrix)****

Sunny Side Up 9: Married to the Sun and the Moon

* * *

Sunstreaker had retreated to a table on the far side of the room while Sideswipe brought Ma-le to the bed larger than her father's entire house and laid down, placing her gently on the pillow.

"Ready?" he asked softly, a cable coming out of his wrist.

Ma-le shivered in anticipation and smiled coyly. She had already undressed, having been invited to do so by Sideswipe after he showed her the bathroom set up for her. "Yes, Kuhn Sideswipe. I'm very ready to please your spark." Remembering what Jazz had told her about plugging in as a sign of willingness, she took the offered cable and held it to her new socket, where it attached itself with a soft click.

She closed her eyes and sighed at the immediate sensation of a deeper awareness and consciousness next to her own. A swawmx, a god of pleasure and protection.

At first he sent a soft caress along her entire body without touching her. A test to make sure things settled right and he was getting the feedback he was intending to create.

Ma-le let out a quiet moan as the first delicious sensation ran down her body, wondering once again what she had done to make the ancestors so happy with her that she would be chosen by a swawmx for this. She was certain that she was the most fortunate bride to ever come from her village. She looked briefly over at the golden-god sitting at the table and a small frown crossed her face. ~Did I displease your brother? I hope I polished him correctly.~

~You did fine,~ Sideswipe assured her, and somehow she could feel and _know_ that he meant it. ~He can be pretty rough, so we agreed he wouldn't share with you until you were used to me. He won't hurt you, but he's frightened more than a few.~

Ma-le tried as hard as she could to keep the thoughts locked away, but she couldn't help that his words immediately brought up her memories of being raped by the three men in the Burmese army when her body had only just come into adulthood.

~I will try very hard not to be frightened,~ she spoke, honestly, knowing there was no hiding her sudden spike in anxiety.

The furious, violence-laden protective-rage lashed up from deep in him before he caught it and shoved the reaction into a corner of his mind. ~No one will touch you like that again,~ he promised with all the willingness of his created-warrior nature to put his life on the line to ensure it. ~We'll both see to that.~

Ma-le felt how fiercely protective he was, and her fear and anxiety completely drained away with the brush of pleasure. She realized, perhaps even more than with Jazz, that she felt _safe_. She felt, more distantly, a wordless query and a wordless soothing response before he distracted her with another gentle brush of pleasure across her body.

~See this?~ he nudged her awareness towards a brilliant ball of golden light that was somehow connected to him. ~This is my spark, my life-force, or a mind-image of it anyway. The greater your pleasure, the more you enjoy it, the larger and stronger it will become. Fear, pain and anger in you during sharing cause us pain. We will take what time you need not to fear.~

The trickster-god's spark was so beautiful in her mind, and she was breathlessly in awe of what he was showing her.

~I'm not afraid, Mvkang. I _want_ to feed your spark.~

~Good,~ he murmured, brushing her body with another wave of gentle pleasure to show her what her reaction did for his spark. More cables came out from his wrist as he moved her to his chest where she could feel his internals working and his heat.

Ma-le watched in delight as each sweet wave made Sideswipe's spark flare and brighten, sending its own delicious yet very strange ecstasy back to her. Along with the mental image of his spark, and could actually _feel_ that change below her body through his chest plates.

The connection made her bold. ~Show me more, Silver god. I want to know how to please you.~

He shivered mentally at the request-demand and reached out with both hand to caress her bare skin with sharp claws that carefully never scratched. A dozen cables of the same living silver metal as the rest of him snaked out from wrists and finger joints to explore her body. Several found her breasts, stroking and circling. Others explored her legs, her back, her face. It was the thick one that slid up her inner thigh to lightly stroke her womanhood that her attention fixated on.

Ma-le trembled and whimpered, her hands reaching out almost blindly to touch the claws that ran so gently down her body. Her secret places clenched and sweet shivers ran from there up her spine and down to her toes. Without even realizing she did so, she spread her legs wider, offering herself. Sideswipe didn't hesitate to press a thick, blunt cable into her moist center while a small one swirled and stroked the jewel at the top.

From his mind he wordlessly promised that this was only the first of many pleasures. Images and sensations of previous lovers and sockets of many kinds flickered from him. His spark pulsed deep and strong, glowing brighter with every shock of ecstasy that darted up her spine.

The Lisu bride's moans echoed through the large chamber as the silver trickster pleasured her, her own mind wordlessly responding to the present pleasure and future promises with awe/gratitude/worship/need. If she had been conscious enough to think of anything beyond what her body felt, she would have realized that Jazz had carefully only given her a small taste of what was possible, allowing Sideswipe to truly be the one to initiate her into something so beyond the fantasies of mortals.

~Primus!~ Sideswipe shuddered with a deep, rawly pleasured moan. ~You have so much life. See how much stronger my spark is? And you haven't even peaked yet.~

Ma-le _could_ see. It was so clear to her how each shiver and moan of ecstasy pulsed into his spark, filling him with vitality and youth and spiraling into a pleasure that was something so very other than human.

Her peak was near. She felt it building in an almost desperate yearning.

~There is no greater pleasure for me than feeding your beautiful spark, moonlit god,~ She said trembling with awe.

His hands left her, though the cables did not. She distantly heard him grab something metal, likely himself, but then there was no place for thought as pleasure like nothing she'd known erupted. It rushed through her, then him, and feed back to her in an endless loop that pushed them higher until Sideswipe tensed sharply and keened. His optics flared nearly white in their brightness.

Ma-le was dimly aware that she had screamed out her god-husband's name along with his keening as they both climaxed in perfect harmony. The wash of sensation from his spark was, if possible, even more deliriously pleasurable than her own peak, not that she was even aware of which sensations belonged to whom in the end.

She collapsed forward, sated in a way she'd never contemplated before.

**"Pits, bro. That was _hot_."** Sunstreaker rumbled from the table.

**"Yeah, it was,"** Sideswipe agreed, his vents struggling to cool his systems. **"Been a while since I did it this way."**

When she was able to move, open her eyes and speak, she reached out and gently ran her hands along a panel of his armor. "Did I please you, trickster-god?" she asked formally, but with the corners of her mouth grinning, very well aware that she had.

"Very much, my wife," his voice and mind were teasing, but so was the intended honor of using the title as he brought his hands up to caress her once more. "I wish to truly claim you, to fill your body with my essence," he rumbled, excited to the extreme at the thought of his spike buried deep in her body, flooding her with his nanite-rich transfluid.

At his spoken desire, Ma-le felt a tingling shiver in the small of her back that quickly traveled to her womb and her depths. "I am yours to claim, Mvkang," she said with a tremble in her voice. "Your elder paid a bride price unheard of in my village."

"Jazz looks out for us," Sideswipe rumbled happily and opened his interface panel. His spike pressurized almost immediately, sized for her and already with small beads of transfluid at the tip. "A happy, willing wife means stronger warriors."

Ma-le's eyes became very wide. _This_ was not something Jazz had shown her ... at least not in his real form. She was helpless against her thrill of anticipation, her fear of things phallic having been firmly thrust away by a gentle, masculine holoform.

~And I'm happiest when I'm pleasing you, trickster. What would you like for me to do?~

~Ride me,~ he offered her a few basic ideas of how to take his spike into her sex, positions to settle in, and a taste of remembered pleasure from previous lovers who'd done it.

Ma-le nearly moaned aloud at the thoughts he shared. She crawled down his large frame to his spike. Emboldened by the images and memories, she kissed the tip reverently before moving her body to kneel with her thighs wide so her folds took him in, the drops of transfluid mixing with her own slick warmth, making her tingle where her sex touched him. Her own body was a living offering to the silver god's spark, and she impaled herself on him, whispering his Lisu name, Mvkang, as though it were a prayer.

Sideswipe closed his optics and thrust lightly up, relishing the tight warmth and the pleasure it created. His systems wanted to overload _now_, to flood her with his nanites and claim her fully. She was so perfect, so reverent and responsive.

Ma-le's experience was obviously very limited. She had, of course, _never_ been on top, never been the one to move or control the pace. Her shy, tentative movement was a prayer, and her god-husband the object of her worship as she responded to his thrust with her own slick wetness stroking him up and down. Whatever his essence was that he wished to fill her with, she desired it like a sacrament, her whole body shaking in anticipation.

She felt him soak up her desire as much as her pleasure, revel in it and she moaned unabashedly as his hands, cables and gentle hip movements urged her on, to do whatever felt good to her even as he fed her the sensations of how good she felt to him, how _pleased_ he was with her and her desires.

Ma-le reveled in filling herself with him, responding freely to his wish...his command for her own pleasure, finding an angle that made her whimper. Knowing that it was her own ecstasy that pleased him freed her from cultural boundaries of propriety, and she began to wantonly fuck herself on him. His own huge hands wrapped around her to move her even faster, bringing her down on himself harder so that she cried out with each plunge. Soon her entire body was shaking. She was so close that it felt was though every nerve was burning.

A wave of pure pleasure swept through her from him. His hips arched up and his hands brought her down, holding her tightly against the warm metal of his body while hot, thick fluid shot into her, splashing deep inside her and filling her. A cable found her jewel and pressed against it hard, rubbing and working it as he did his best to bring her climax with his.

Ma-le screamed, utterly lost in the explosive ecstasy she simultaneously felt in both her own body and Sideswipe's systems and spark. She would never be able to find the words to describe what it was to be claimed, to have tiny parts of her silver trickster-god take possession of her very cells and bring the very particles that made up _who_ she was, her life energy, into resonance with his spark. She didn't understand it, only felt that she now loved and belonged to the stranger she had only just met in a manner far deeper than any Lisu girl had ever imagined belonging to and loving her husband.

~It is very true,~ Sideswipe's sated, content and very happy presence brushed against her mind. ~You feel so good when you are happy.~

From where she was splayed out upon his abdomen, completely in bliss, her mind whispered. ~I am happy, Mvkang, my trickster god. I never knew such happiness was allowed, much less possible.~

~Here it is encouraged,~ he told her with a gentle stroke of his finger along her back. ~Do you think you are ready to be claimed by my brother?~

~Of course!~ She laughed in her mind at the question, as though it were somehow absurd. ~Kuhn Jazz already arranged everything with my father, and I would never dishonor either of them. Who in her right mind would say _no_ to being claimed by a golden god? I'm the most fortunate girl in the history of my tribe.~

She felt a ripple of approval and smug amusement from somewhere other than Sideswipe, though it came through him.

~I share a bond with my brother,~ he explained as he shifted to make room for Sunstreaker on the large berth. ~We can talk, share experiences and such.~

~The gods who gave birth to our ancestors were golden twins,~ she commented, as though it made all the sense in the world to her. ~It was no surprise to me that two of the best warriors of the swawmx would also be, though your both being male surprised the shaman. But who is to question the ways of the spirits?~

~Your twins were femmes?~ Sideswipe asked with a mixture of amusement and honest curiosity as Sunstreaker walked over to the berth and nudged him with relative gentleness until he made room.

Ma-Le laughed aloud at the question, then covered her mouth, not wishing to insult him with her amusement. ~No, a male and a female, who gave birth to 10 daughters who each mated with shape-shifting gods to give birth to our clans. My ancestress married a god who became a tiger, so we are the Tiger Clan.~ She explained, looking at Sunstreaker with a shy smile as he lay down next to his brother.

"If you ever want to reenact that with us, it can be arranged," the silver warrior rumbled.

Sunstreaker reached out for her, the cable switching so quickly she barely felt it until she realized that the presence with her was very different. Her golden husband was darker, more reflexively violent, but his spark also swirled with the bright light of creation far more than Sideswipe's.

Sideswipe shifted a bit more as she was settled on Sunstreaker's lap, then rolled to his side to watch and lightly stroke his now full-sized silver spike.

Ma-Le's mouth made a silent 'O' when she looked on the golden god's spike, far larger than the silver trickster's had been. "Tell me how I may please you, Arun Shwe." She requested formally, with a tremble of both fear and arousal in her voice.

"It will size to you," he promised. "Just like his did," he made a motion towards Sideswipe and his now full-sized spike. "Touch me, stroke my spike," his voice became lower, rougher with desire.

Ma-Le's fear left her and the corners of her mouth twitched at the invitation. "Anything you wish," she said quietly. She knelt on his lap and ran her hand along the golden spike reverently before encircling it with both hands to stroke the shiny, slightly pliable warmth. She felt sex clench in excitement and in response to the feelings the golden god allowed her to perceive. She found herself longing to rub her body against the large spike, to feel its heat against her breasts and her wet sacred hole. She waited for his command, trembling on her knees as her hands continued their tentative yet longing exploration.

He moaned, deep and low, before reaching out with his mind and wrapping her with the pleasure she gave him. ~Do anything you want. That _all_ sounds good.~

"It sound pretty hot to watch too," Sideswipe added with an eager rumble.

Ma-Le didn't need to be told twice. She eagerly complied with her god-husbands' wishes and wrapped her legs and arms around the golden spike as thick as her thigh and as long as her own leg, rubbing herself against its heat, kissing and licking, whimpers escaping her as she worshiped it with her willing body.

Sunstreaker watched her with bright optics, moans and static escaping his vocalizer as his arousal shot higher. With a shudder his spike shrunk to human-sized, a drop of transfluid at the tip.

"Ride him," Sideswipe whispered throatily. "Let my brother feel how perfect you feel."

The Lisu-girl looked up at the golden-one's face with complete adoration and impaled herself on him slowly, letting out a moan of her own as his perfect length and girth filled her completely, stretching her just to the point of almost being too much. Only a god could feel so perfect inside of her, she thought as her jewel rubbed his base and she hissed in pleasure.

"Love that look," Sideswipe rumbled, his gaze locked on his brother's pleasure-tightened features. "Love it when your spark's well-fed," he leaned over to kiss Sunstreaker, a simple contact that quickly turned incendiary as they indulged each other.

Ma-le could _feel_ the Golden Sun's hungry spark feeding on her myi, her life energy, and reveled in the privilege of offering herself to him. She watched and felt the brothers kiss and cried out as the heat of it was shared freely back with her. With nearly gleeful energy, she doubled her efforts, moving up and down on the thick spike, completely sheathing it with each downward slide.

He began to thrust upwards, his pleasure at her enthusiasm and desire to please him clear, as was the approval to her reaction to seeing him with his brother. A golden hand supported her and cables came out to stroke her breasts, her belly, rubbed against her jewel and inner thighs. The human wrapped her arms around one of the golden fingers to brace herself further to receive his deep, claiming thrusts.

Ma-Le's incoherent cries of pleasure echoed through the chamber as her body was worked as skillfully as a master musician might work an instrument, thrusts, cables and socket working in perfect harmony to bring her to a climax that took her just as Sideswipe claimed another heated kiss.

Under her Sunstreaker shuddered and thrust up one last time before letting the overload from her pleasure and his spark's feeding take over to fill her body with his transfluid, mixing his claiming nanites with his brother's.

Vents fully open and cooling systems at full strength, Sunstreaker moaned into his brother's mouth as the physical world came back into focus.

Ma-le was barely coherent. The work of both mech's nanites continued to wrack her body with shivers of pleasure as she lay collapsed against Sunstreaker's hand, limp and shaking, unable to open her eyes, yet deeply aware that something profound was happening inside her. She mumbled a barely understandable question of how else she could please her god-husbands even as her body shook from yet another burst of ecstasy from the nanites that had now taken residence in every one of her cells, complimenting perfectly the ones already residing there.

~You are pleasing us,~ Sunstreaker told her, something almost tender about him now that she was fully accepted into his family, now that she was fully _his_.

~Want your spike,~ Sideswipe growled, hungry and full of need. ~Let her rest, the nanites work, and enjoy watching you make me howl.~

~Anytime,~ Sunstreaker grinned and gently moved Ma-le to a safe place near the edge of the berth before turning his attention to his brother with a feral grin.


	35. Hunting Pleasure 17:Fallout and Recovery

**Fandom:** Transformers Bayverse (POV'verse)  
**Author:** gatekat and femme4jack on LJ  
**Pairing:** Jazz/Prowl/Miles Lancaster  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Codes:** Slash, Xeno (Transformer/Human)  
**Summary:** Jazz and Prowl have a serious fight, plus Jazz fesses up and Miles has to decide what is more important to him.  
**Notes:** Written in the Point of View fanverse (community .livejournal .com/tf_matrix)  
**"text"** translated Cybertronian.

* * *

****

Hunting Pleasure 17: Fallout and Recovery

* * *

In a corridor of the officer barracks, Ironhide paused, his attention caught by the extremely unusual sound of Prowl's voice raised in honest anger, and Jazz's snarled response nearly unintelligible because he'd slipped so deep into his accent and lingual patterns so old that even the ancient warrior didn't know them well.

The bulky weapons specialist was not normally one to eavesdrop. He valued his own privacy far too much not to grant others the same. But something in Jazz's tone chilled him to the spark. He could not fathom the mech actually harming his bonded, but he has also _never_ forgotten that Prime's SIC and head of Special Operations was also a former 'Con, one of the deadliest of the time. He respected him, but still did not always fully trust him. After an internal debate that only took a few nanokliks, he opted to stay where he was to make certain the situation didn't deteriorate to a point that intervention was needed.

**"I can not believe you programmed him to self-destruct under _any_ conditions,"** Prowl's rage was evident in both his tone and volume. **"You are an Autobot!"**

**"Du give meh t'at slag,"** Jazz snapped back. **"Gut yar 'motions out'a way 'n ya know 'xac'ly why ah did. Ya woul'ove too 'n wah both 'ow it."**

**"The fact remains that I did not and you did,"** Prowl responded. **"Your agents know they are getting into a dangerous job even if they don't know what you program into them. Miles did not have even that much forewarning."**

Ironhide felt his systems go cold with fury and his cannons whirl as his weapons systems come online. It was all too obvious what the two were arguing about. Jazz had programmed the nanites that claimed the young civilian, Miles, with spec-ops kill protocols. Every senior officer knew that the agents had them, and why ... but to do so to his own socket, who was no older the Samuel!

He almost stormed in, but stopped himself. Prowl was handling the situation. As Jazz's bonded who had also claimed the young human, it was his business to deal with his mate. He cycled his vents, put his weapons system on standby, and waited to hear if he was needed.

**"Will ya stop quoting Lv'Prim 'ready?"**

**"Would you prefer I quote Megatron?"** Prowl snarled, something that gathered a moment of silence from his bonded. **"Yes, as a _tactician_ I understand and agree with what you did, in all but _one_ way. You had no right to do that without asking. Even if you withheld the full extent of the programming, he had a right to agree to it or not."**

**"Weh've fought this 'ready. If 'e knew, 'e'd fi 'n ah har'deth,"** Jazz sounded more frustrated than angry now.

Even in the corridor, Ironhide could almost feel Prowl's tactical computer kick into high gear.

**"Is that what I felt?"** Prowl's voice lowered in volume. **"When you saw him? Was that what took you out of mission mode?"**

Utter silence greeted the question, or if there was a response, it was too quiet to be heard outside their quarters.

Ironhide felt his own systems calming, and he fully deactivated his weapons. He was still _furious_ with what Jazz had done without is socket's consent. As much as was possible, Hide treated Will as an equal, a warrior in his own right, a fearless and courageous leader of his troops. Sarah, as Will's mate, was due the same respect. He could understand the need to prevent a socket from divulging dangerous information under duress, but he would never dream of doing such a thing without their knowledge or consent. Yet, what Jazz said was absolutely true. Knowledge that kill protocols were about to activate could lead to a horrible, prolonged and agonizing death.

He nearly moved on, confident now that Jazz was calm enough for Prowl to reason with, but something held his pedes in place and turned his audio receptors to full gain to catch the more normal conversational tones inside.

**"Yea,"** Jazz nearly snarled, frustrated and angry. **"Ya."**

Ironhide could hear Prowl move closer to the door, and the sound of him pulling his bonded against him. **"You're going to have to tell him. What you did and _why_ you're so upset."**

Jazz snarled again, inarticulate, and the scrape of metal on metal as he pulled away was harsh on Ironhide's audios. A sudden scrabble of both mechs, a clash of one hard chassis against another and the heavy thud of both hitting the floor as Jazz hissed in anger.

Hide listened carefully, alert that the altercation between the bonded pair had turned physical, though he was well aware that the sounds he heard could be the prelude to a particularly difficult spark merge to share what could not be said aloud. It was at that moment that Will walked up, somewhat out of breath.

~Something's up. I could feel you, old man.~ Will, as always, kept a physical distance in public out of respect for the sensibilities those who served under him. He instead reached out with affection and concern through the newly forming bond between the warriors.

~I was monitoring a particularly nasty argument between Prime's SIC and TIC. I believe the worst is over, but I will remain here to monitor the situation until I am certain.~

~Optimus shared a bit about that when we briefed each other this morning. I don't envy anyone involved. For my part, I can completely understand why Jazz did what he did. If it were me, I would have done the same. What we do here is far too important to risk on misplaced sentimentality.~

~I would _never_ have done this to you without your consent, Will.~

~Hide, if you did this to me, which in all honesty you probably should, I wouldn't _want_ to know. I was trained to take suicide pills under certain situations when I was in black ops. I'd much rather _not_ have to be the one to do it if it had to be done. Jazz's way seems far more kind.~

~Miles isn't black ops, Will.~

~Doesn't matter. He is far too close to two of the most important mechs in this fight.~

Ironhide, not for the first time, found himself amazed that the good natured human could be so ruthless. But then again, considering that he, as one of the toughest frontliners in the history of the cause, was also enamored by paired organics and their offspring, such dichotomies should not be surprising.

He brushed against Will's mind with affection, and continued guarding the door and monitoring the room inside.

For as long as he'd known the mechs inside and their quiet but stormy relationship going from enemies, prisoners, friends, lovers and finally bonded, he'd witnessed his share of manipulation from them both. The bits and pieces he got from inside were no different. Even after this long as an Autobot, and being the one who pursued Prowl, sometimes force and a spark were all Jazz understood or respected.

~Who's the silver one?~ Will abruptly asked after several minutes, mentally indicating a slender, chrome-finish mech a bit shorter than Jazz with a natural grace evident even standing still.

Ironhide almost missed the question at the distinctive sound of chest plates parting behind the door. The weapons specialist could clearly identify the femme through Will's impressions, but he looked down the corridor nonetheless. ~One of Jazz's elite, Silver Shadow. I'm honestly surprised to see her visible and without her bondmate.~

While Hide had some measure of respect for most of those who worked under Jazz, he could not shake his own distaste with their methods, which if he were pressed, he would admit he found dishonorable but necessary. He'd take a good clean fight, evenly matched any day over the work they did in secret. Prime needed them and used them, but they did not fully belong to him in terms of loyalty. Jazz had built the division up on his own over long vorns and without question they belonged to him, not Prime. Ironhide could see their use, even their importance, but it did not mean he trusted a single one. He regarded the femme openly.

**"Silver Shadow,**" he said simply by way of a greeting now that it was clear he had noticed her.

**"Ironhide,"** she greeted him in turn, now making it very clear that she was staking the room out much as he was. She seemed to be relaxed against the wall, her optics drifting slowly back and forth along the corridor. "Major Lennox," she nodded to the human.

The relaxed look and pleasantries didn't fool Ironhide for a moment. She was there to protect her CO if he needed it, just as he was there to protect Prime's most important tactician.

They waited there in tense, silence, pretending to be at ease, for longer than Will could stay. A joor later and she was suddenly moving, walking towards her quarters with all her enticing natural grace that was both unconscious and very much intentionally crafted.

Ironhide took her cue and made his escape, not wanting to be caught by either officer outside their door after what had gone down.

Inside, Prowl held his bonded lover close as Jazz clutched him and shivered with his optic band off. They were both on the floor, the fight to sort out Jazz's reactions had left him as stunned as it had left Jazz upset. Despite how angry he was that Jazz hadn't asked Miles' permission and couldn't see the need to, he couldn't remain angry when his bonded was in this state.

~Is it really so terrible?~ Prowl brushed against Jazz's spark, trying to sooth it against the terror that gripped it so completely.

~When ya're me,~ he pressed against the larger mech. ~Ah can't afford that. Bad enough with you, bu'a human?~

~It happened,~ Prowl pressed his lips against the center of Jazz's helm. ~Take the pleasure, accept the pain, live to enjoy another day. You taught me that.~

~Smart aft,~ Jazz grumbled as he pulled himself together.

~Anything that works,~ Prowl chuckled fondly and placed a long, slow, tender kiss on his bonded's mouth, only to pull away when the response came.

Jazz growled at him.

~Skyfire is coming in to land,~ Prowl hushed him as they stood, only to draw Jazz into his arms again. ~If we want to see Miles before Ratchet is done with him, and Prime as well, it will be now.~

Jazz sighed and nodded, drawing away reluctantly as he put his cheerful public facade on. "Let's go."

* * *

At some point on the flight, Miles had nodded off and ended up wrapped in his polishing cloth/blanket, curled up on Ratchet's lap much the same way Jazz had found him with Prowl the day the mechs claimed him. The youth had slept very little during his captivity, and it was catching up with him. Ratchet's voice, far more gentle than his normal patients were accustomed to, woke him up after what felt like far too short a nap.

"We've arrived, Miles."

Miles, looking far younger at the moment than his 20 years, rubbed his eyes and stretched. He wrapped the cloth more tightly around himself as Ratchet picked him up and followed Prime onto the tarmac.

No one was surprised to see Jazz and Prowl there, or the hesitation in Jazz's step with how close Prime was to Miles. Prowl, though, had no such reservations and moved swiftly to Ratchet.

"It is good to see you again, Miles," the white mech reached to touch him, though he paid careful attention to make sure his touch was acceptable.

If Miles noticed the hesitancy, he didn't say anything. He simply reached out almost like a child to wrap his arms around the hand that touched him, making it very clear he was not letting go and expected a change of rides.

"My vacation kind of sucked, dude."

"I am sorry I could not be there," Prowl spoke softly as he gathered Miles from Ratchet, not caring that the medic glared at him.

"We both are," Jazz added, sounding as honestly apologetic as any mech there had heard him. "I'm sorry I left you. I could have stopped him if I'd been with you."

"It ain't your fault. You can't be around to protect me all the time.. And the shitty vacation might very well have been worth it considering the stuff we found out, huh?" Miles gave a half smile."

"Yes, well, once Ratchet has cleared you from medbay, we have a few things to discuss with you," Prowl's voice wavered slightly and Jazz looked down. "I am very ... pleased ... that you survived as well as you did."

"Miles, I need to do a complete physical now that we are back, to be certain there aren't any surprises left over from your time in captivity."

"No" Miles answer was quick and certain, digging in like a teenager.

"I'm afraid I must insist on it," Optimus interjected, moving closer.

"Look ... I've just spent the last several days doing stuff that someone else insisted on. I want to see Jazz and Prowl. You had the whole flight to do whatever it is you needed to do. I'm home now, and I want to be _home_. You can do my physical later. If Skywarp left any nasty surprises, I'm sure my guys can handle it."

Jazz seemed almost willing to back down, but Prowl closed both hands around his socket and faced his Prime with ramrod strait posture. "Sir, if he was infected with anything, our systems are better capable of containing it than even Ratchet's." The heavy tension that existed between Ratchet, Prime, and Prowl was obvious to anyone, including the human in the tactician's hands.

Nearly instantaneous communication passed between CMO and Prime. ::I don't like it, Optimus, but the boy is right. He has lost enough autonomy the past few days, not to mention what Jazz has done to him. His obvious emotional distress about the rape actually has made me more confident about his mental health and his ability to make an autonomous decision regarding Jazz.::

::I agree, and he may very well need more psychological help once Jazz and Prowl have spoken with him. I, for one want to speak with him after to make my own judgment as to the soundness of his decision making abilities. It is far too easy for organics to lose themselves in these claims and fail to make decisions in their own best interests.::

::Is that why you refuse to claim another? We can talk about that excuse later. Can you trust Jazz not to do anything more?::

::Sharing Sam is sufficient.:: It was clear that Optimus was not interested in that line of conversation continuing. ::Right now, no, I don't trust Jazz, but I do trust Prowl not to allow it. Jazz is as subdued as I have ever seen him. I only wish that we weren't sending Miles from emotional trauma to yet more emotional trauma. He is so very young for his species.::

Only seconds later Ratchet spoke.

"I understand your need to reconnect with Prowl and Jazz after what you have gone through, Miles, and they are well able to contain anything that may be lingering. I would still like to do a full physical, but it can wait a few hours."

Prime quickly commed his senior officers, ::You have two hours, and Prowl is to be present the entire time, including in any connection. Then I want him in medbay to speak with Ratchet and myself alone.::

Prime hated to give the order. He had never before seen a need to intervene in the relationship between any of his officers and their claimed sockets, and it felt horrible to do so now. But he felt little choice knowing just how very manipulative his SIC could be. It was one of those moments when he wished his base programming allowed him a bit more leverage when it came to the rights of organics. His Autobots and the sentients they protected could ill afford to lose Jazz or Prowl.

::Understood,:: Jazz responded first.

If Prime didn't know his SIC as well as he did, he'd have missed the combination of reflexive bristling at the order and the unique sound of a mech who'd accepted their fate. It left him wondering just what Prowl had done to put him in that state.

::Understood, sir,:: Prowl responded. He was less than pleased with the time limit, but it was enough. "Let us go home," he spoke softly to Miles as he turned to walk back to their quarters.

Miles' relief at being back in their quarters was palpable. Though he had only shared it with them for less than a week before his disastrous vacation, it was home now, perhaps more than any place he'd known. His relief, however, was tempered by the obvious fact that something was off with Jazz ... very off. He couldn't help but notice the contrast between the nearly giddy mech who had spoken with him through the newly formed bond as Miles' had talked with Skywarp, and the subdued one who had not even touched him since he had landed.

He tentatively reached out the way that had worked so well on the Nemesis. ~Dude, what's wrong? Has something happened?~

~A lot,~ Jazz responded, almost shying away from the contact. ~All my fault. Answered Prowl too honestly.~

"He does that occasionally, forgetting that I tend to report things to Prime, who frequently does not understand," Prowl added as he paused in the middle of the room. "I know you wish to share, to reconnect with us, but you may not want to after what needs to be said."

Miles eyes went wide and anxiety gripped his gut. This was _not_ what he expected to come back to. He pursed his lips, then looked at Jazz hesitantly.

"I don't understand," he finally said to them both, his voice shaking. "What the hell could possibly make me _not_ want to share with you? It is the only thing that kept me from freaking out the last few days ... knowing that somehow I wasn't alone, that somehow whatever you put in me kept me connected with you in some way, even if it was simply in my imagination."

Prowl shot a look at Jazz, who steadied himself and relaxed a bit.

"My nanites are programmed with a few extra surprises if my socket gets captured," the words came fairly smoothly, Jazz relaxing more as he spoke the easier of the two things he expected he had to admit to. "The one everyone's pissed at me about is the SpecOps kill protocols. A quick, clean death if you're about to break and turn on us."

Miles blinked several times, shock both at what Jazz said and the ease at which he said it leaving him without any emotion other than bewilderment.

"You programmed your nanites to kill me?" was all he could finally say, his voice reflecting his confusion.

"If you were about to betray us, yes," Jazz nodded, feeling almost like himself. "It's standard, at least for everyone I spend any close time with. Never occurred to me not to."

Shock quickly gave way to a sick sense of betrayal and an anger stronger than any he'd ever felt toward anyone save his dad.

His normally laid-back, friendly voice started out like ice but quickly turned to fire. "You asked me if I wanted to be claimed by you ... and it never occurred to you to let me know that involved putting something in me that could _kill_ me? So did you program _Prowl_ with kill protocols when you bonded? He spends a lot of close time with you!"

"I was important enough by then to have it installed already," Prowl answered.

"But yes, I would have," Jazz answered.

Miles felt his anger deflate at that, though not the bewilderment. He simply stared at Jazz from where he was still held by Prowl, unable to speak for several moments as he settled down and got a grip. When he did respond, it was soft, full of obvious hurt.

"Couldn't you have told me? At least explained why it was important and given me a choice? If I understood ... knew how important it was I probably would have agreed, you know. I mean, it's not like it hasn't occurred to me the last couple of days what a risk I am to you guys."

"It never occurred to me," Jazz repeated with a helpless shrug. "It just didn't. It's something that happens to everyone that gets that close to me. Mostly my agents, and none of them find out until they're senior officers. If you know it's coming, it's reflex to fight. If you fight, it's bad way to go. You remain aware when it takes you apart at the cellular level, shredding everything of potential value. If you don't see it coming, consciousness is the first thing to go and it's quick, clean and painless."

Miles just gaped at him, having no idea what to feel, think or say about any of it. Finally he settled on the obvious.

"Dude, this is so fucked up."

"This is war," Jazz pointed out. "Fucked up is inherent in the situation."

"I am unsure whether it will make you feel better or not, but until two days ago, I was unaware he was doing so," Prowl said. "Despite all our spark merges, I never noticed. Protecting us in such a manner that inherent in him."

Miles finally turned to look up at Prowl.

"And how do you feel about this? Do you agree with it being necessary? With him not asking me first?" Miles question wasn't heated. He honestly wanted to know because he had absolutely no idea how to feel. Jazz didn't seem malicious or cold, just absolutely ... clueless wasn't even the right word for it. The idea that it would never have occurred to Jazz to get consent for what he was did was chilling and fucked up and scary ... but it was also war. And Jazz had been at war for longer than Miles' brain could even begin to understand. Miles was a 20 year old kid whose first taste of war was finding out about Mission City after the fact. Even working at Diego Garcia, the first time the reality of war had ever hit him was when he was captured by Skywarp.

"I do find it prudent," Prowl said honestly. "I do not agree with not asking. Even if the exact details were withheld to make the activation clean, you should have been given the choice to have the protocols be active in your body. Jazz's agents are aware they are entering a dangerous profession in which many facts will be withheld from them and they must withhold them from others. It is the society they exist in. Treating you under the same assumptions is wrong."

Jazz bristled slightly and glared at his bonded. "Hypocrites, the lot of you." He shifted attention to Miles. "I'm not as different as they'd like you to think. _Prime_ ordered me to add extra programs to the nanites while I was up there. Things that could get you killed by the Cons if they noticed. He ordered me to leave you so you'd infect them, I did it, again without cluing you in, and it was a good tactic, but I am not the only officer that will use any tactic they view as valid."

Miles closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Ok ... so let me see if I've got this. You put something in the nanites that would kill me if I was going to betray you, and didn't tell me. And Prime and Prowl are pissed at you for not telling me. But Prime sent you to the Nemesis to put something else in the nanites that could infect the 'Cons. And ordered you not to tell me. Which was probably a good idea because if you had told me and Skywarp had found out about it, he wouldn't have needed to kill me. The stuff you put in me would have done the job."

He shook his head, and started laughing incredulously at the insanity of it all. "I don't think I could ever have imagined something this fucked up on my own. And you know what beats it all? I really just wish you hadn't even fucking told me, any of it. Because now I don't trust you and every time I'm with you I'll be wondering what the hell you are doing to me now? But it doesn't matter, because now I know, and I feel like a fucking tool."

"Everyone is," Jazz shrugged. "After you get back from Prime and Ratchet making sure I didn't do anything else to use they didn't authorize, I can make the info go away if you want."

Prowl vented a small sigh, but didn't actually object.

Miles balked at Jazz's nonchalance. "Everyone is a tool, huh? Is that what sockets are, too? Cause feeling like a tool was why I wouldn't even share with Sunny. And now you offer to wipe it all out of my brain, so I can go back to being a blissfully ignorant tool. Is that it?"

"You said you'd rather have not been told," Jazz scowled. "I just offered to make what you wanted happen."

"Miles, he does mean _everyone_ is a tool," Prowl said gently. "You, me, him, Prime, Megatron, Skywarp ... everyone. Just because I'm a tool of Prime's agenda, of Primus' will, of Jazz desires, dose not mean Jazz loves me any less. The spark-bond wouldn't have taken if he was less than completely dedicated to me. He can care a great deal for someone and still recognize their place in the greater scheme of things."

~Will you _stop_ trying to make me sound more noble than I am?~ Jazz snarled across the bond, only to flinch away at the hurt he felt from Prowl.

Miles just glared. "So do you? Care about me, that is? Because the feeling I get right now is that you couldn't care less. And if you really couldn't care less about me, then frankly I don't want to forget and I certainly don't want to spend the next thousand years feeding your ice-cold spark no matter how good it feels."

He had a fraction a second to realize that lashing out at Jazz while being held by Prowl might not be the best idea. The larger mech's fingers twitched, curling inward in an unconscious response to the threat to his bonded. It was more than enough to completely drive home the point that Skywarp had taught him; mechs were big, powerful and inherently dangerous to such small life forms.

Jazz shifted to take a step back when Prowl focused his full attention on the smaller mech, his anger evident as clearly to the human in his hands as to the mech he was bonded with.

"Jazz..." Prowl grated out a warning usually reserved for the Terror Twins at their worst.

Miles froze, suddenly every bit as afraid as he had been the day with Sunstreaker and Sideswipe. He was angry and hurt as he had ever been, was trying to understand, but Jazz's complete unrepentant nonchalance kept reinforcing how hurt and lost he felt, and he had finally lost it. And now he could feel Prowl physically holding back his own anger...and Jazz...

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his tone betraying his fear, hurt, and heartbreak. Shaking uncontrollably, the youth started to sob. "I didn't mean that, not all of it. It's just been too much. The whole thing with Skywarp and getting raped and coming back to this. It's just too much. I can't handle it."

**"Jazz!"** Prowl suddenly snapped, his voice rising almost as much as in their earlier fight. "Do not _dare_ push him away because you are afraid. He doesn't deserve that."

The silver mech looked away sharply, his optic band all but completely powered down.

"It is not better for him," Prowl actually growled, reinforcing the statement through their bond. "You've never been a coward. Not in your entire life. Don't give in now because it will hurt less. You knew bonding to me would be far worse in the end."

Jazz's optic band flickered as he looked up at Prowl and steeled himself.

"Yes," he said the single word like it was nearly a death sentence.

Miles was shaking, sobbing, looking on with bewildered confusion, not sure he understood what Prowl was angry about or what Jazz was so upset about.

"Yes?" Miles asked between sobs. "As in you _do_ care about me ... and that is a horrible thing?"

"I care _too much_ about you," Jazz couldn't back down, not with the threat of his bonded thinking he was a coward. "Yes, that's a horrible thing. It's a weakness, a big one, that's going to be exploited the first time somebody works it out. I'm _Ops_. We _can't_ get kicked out of mission mode because of anything or anyone. It gets a lot of good mechs killed." Now that he was talking, it was nearly impossible to stop. "I thought I was fine until I saw you in that cell. Then all my training, all my programming, everything went out the window and all I could think about was getting you home safe. Screw the mission, my orders, the consequences. Do you have _any_ idea what can happen if the Cons find out I have that kind of weakness? Pit, do you have any idea what _my own agents_ will do if they find out?"

Miles sat very still, for what felt to him like a long time, just thinking, trying to figure out the most confusing set of emotions he'd ever had to deal with. His mom and sister had been a cakewalk compared to this. But something finally seemed to click about Jazz's anger and fear and even his seeming indifference.

When he finally spoke, it was soft, almost gentle. "I don't ... I don't have any idea, Jazz, what they would do. I guess ... I assume that the 'Cons would try to use me against you, and the Skywarp thing would only be the beginning. And I suppose your own agents would probably take me out if it meant keeping you safe. I knew I was a risk to you ... I knew that as soon as Skywarp took me. I didn't understand how much of a risk."

Miles curled in on himself, looking down at his own hands.

"I don't want to be a risk to you. To either of you. What do you need to do so I'm not?"

Jazz drew a deep drought of air into his systems and expelled it slowly to steady himself. "Since you can't be dangerous enough on your own to be more trouble than it's worth, which is what Prowl did, I need to act like you aren't any more important to me than previous sockets. You need to do whatever you have to, leave us or come up with an act, for when word gets around and various mechs that like to think they have higher moral standards start to push. Too many already know about the kill code. It's going to piss a lot of mechs off when it filters around to the rest of the crew. They'll come after me, they'll tell you and expect you to be as horrified and angry as you first were. When it gets around that you know and if you're still with me, they'll start to try and find out why."

"More importantly, no matter what you say, they aren't going to believe it's the truth," Prowl said quietly. "Jazz is far too well known to be the master manipulator he is for anyone to believe he's not lying to you. Even I still get the periodic questioning about how I can trust him."

"It really comes down to acting like you normally do, but don't let it out how much I resisted telling you," Jazz added softly. "The smoother they think delivery was, the less they'll believe it. Hard for you, good for both our survival. I'm the one who has to figure out how to walk away if I need to for the good of the mission."

Miles gave a weak smile. "We have to do it in a way that I don't have to lie. It's too easy to scan vitals and hormones and stuff and know, and that is just going to lead to a whole bunch of questions and could make things even riskier. If I tell people I was angry at first, but agreed to it because you said how much you cared about me, it wouldn't be a lie and they'd think you were manipulating me. And it won't keep them from being pissed at you about it or trying to convince me otherwise, but I can just act dead sure that you love me and they'll just think you have me wrapped around your claw and eventually give it up."

He paused for a minute, and then looked at Jazz with a challenge in his eyes.

"But how _do_ I know I'm not just being manipulated now? Prove it, dude. Show me. 'Cause then I can be totally honest, and they'll all just be convinced that you've done what you're best at."

"What would you have me do?" Jazz asked uneasily, his processors instantly going to what _he'd_ demand, even though Miles was incapable of taking advantage of such access, even if he was willing to give it.

~You really wouldn't?~ Prowl looked at him.

~No. It's still better if he walks away,~ Jazz kept his optics on Miles. ~That jab about bonding was unfair, you know.~

~But true,~ Prowl pointed out. ~Losing me will hurt you a great deal more than losing Miles.~

~I'm not going to lose you,~ Jazz nearly snarled, though he kept it off his expression. ~I came back from the Pit for you. I'm not going to lose you to time.~

~Love, you know I wasn't built to last.~

~Stop it!~ Jazz raged silently. ~Just stop it,~ he stilled almost completely inside. ~Let me deal with that when it happens and not a moment before.~

~Very well,~ Prowl tried to offer his support and found himself blocked from such an active effort. At one time he would have pressed, asked to know why he was being partially shut out. It wasn't something he bothered with anymore. He would find out if his calculations were correct soon enough.

Miles sat, thinking hard about what Jazz had asked. What _did_ he want Jazz to do? He finally looked up.

"I don't know, Jazz. I guess there's nothing you _can_ do. I don't have the ways of knowing and seeing things that you guys have. Humans can't ever really know. We just have to take it on faith and hope for the best. You could plug in and show me exactly what I want to see ... and it could still be manipulation and a lie. I'll never know for sure."

Miles closed is eyes and his body radiated tension. Then he sighed and looked at Jazz again.

"I love both of you. You were what kept me from panicking on the Nemesis and doing something really stupid that would get me killed. I never once felt alone. And when you told me you _were_ really there, I felt like there was nothing I couldn't face because you had come to me and promised me that if things got really bad, you'd get me out. It gave me the guts to try to get Skywarp to open up, and look where that led. I felt like I was part of something that's really important, that's a lot bigger than me. I guess I'd rather spend my life believing that you care about me and die not ever knowing if I was wrong. And you obviously are all tied up in knots about _something_. So I'm just going to have do what humans do ... choose to believe or choose not to."

He watched as Jazz seemed to relax a bit.

"Ya have common sense," Jazz chuckled weakly.

Prowl glanced at his bonded, then focused on Miles. "He's had a few very painful reminders lately about how much of his existence he doesn't control anymore. I am pleased you wish to stay with us," he said honestly, gently brushing the human's side with a digit. "I hope you can give him the time it will take to accept his new weakness and it's risks."

Miles leaned into Prowl's touch like someone who was starving. "What else can I do? That's what you do when you love people. You put up with all of their shit."

"I will attempt to be less of a burden than your family," Prowl said with a formality that was so natural to him it was comforting in it's own way. "What would you like to do, until you must report to Ratchet?"

"Not a burden," Miles grinned, relaxing and leaning back against the strange combination of lover and father figure that was Prowl. "I want to show you guys all of it. I mean ... I don't know how long you were there, Jazz, but there is some really amazing stuff. Like Skywarp...in his own messed up way he really did care about the organics there. He even brought a live deer in for his avian to hunt, and then Thundercracker took it out flying. And Flitfire, this little Insecticon that Skywarp ordered to share with me was so blown away that he snuck back in the middle of the night, but then he freaked out and left when I tried to convince him to come back with me. And the feline, Radfire ... he was totally amazing, even if the dude raped me. It wasn't his fault, and it could have been so much worse."

Miles was babbling and he knew it. He was just so relieved that the tension was broken that he couldn't really stop himself.

"I was there for that," Jazz trembled in remembered rage he had somehow kept in check enough to remain hidden. "Why don't we sit down," he motioned to the couch rather than the berthroom. "I can show you a bit of what I was up to in retaliation."


	36. HP18: Of Mother Hens and Brother Jackals

character: jazz, character: miles lancaster, character: optimus prime, character: prowl, character: ratchet, character: will lennox, content: slash, content: supernatural, content: xeno (mech/human), continuity: bayverse, rating: pg-13, series: hunting pleasure, writer: femme4jack, writer: gatekat **Fandom:** Transformers Bayverse  
**Author:** gatekat and femme4jack on LJ  
**Pairing:** Jazz/Prowl/Miles Lancaster  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Codes:** Slash, Xeno (Transformer/Human)  
**Summary:** Miles is scrutinized and Will 'accidentally' stumbles on Jazz brooding on the beach.  
**Notes:** Written in the Point of View fanverse (community .livejournal .com/tf_matrix)  
**"text"** translated Cybertronian.

* * *

****

Hunting Pleasure 18: Of Mother Hens and Brother Jackals

* * *

For the second time in a day, Miles was curled up asleep on a giant metal lap as though he were a kitten. For the second time in a day, someone woke the sleep deprived youth far before he was ready.

A formal, but gently comforting voice in his head roused him. ~I apologize for waking you, Miles, but you are due at Medbay in 25.863 minutes, and your body shows signs of low blood sugar.~

~And bringing me there hungry is going to give Ratchet yet another reason to bitch at you guys.~ Even Miles head voice sounded exhausted and very grumpy.

~Precisely. He clearly believes he has plenty of reasons to 'bitch' already, and aside from that, I would be remiss in not attending to your physical needs.~

~My physical need is to sleep, and Ratchet is going to hear about that from me. Fucking 2 hour time limit. Where is Jazz?~

~He stepped out after you fell asleep.~

~And how long have I been asleep?~

~Only 34.798 minutes~

~Not 35, huh?~

~No.~

That Jazz had left did not surprise Miles. Even in what was an exceedingly gentle sharing, Miles could feel Jazz's continued underlying struggle and anxiety. At least he wasn't blocking it from Miles entirely. That was a small step in itself. But it was clear Jazz was going to need time alone to work things out. Miles wryly hoped it wouldn't take his whole extended lifetime.

Miles had invited both of his lovers to see the entirety of his memories of captivity. It simply helped to share it, to have it known, the good and the bad. But it was also clear that on some level the memories were more distressing to his mechs than they were to the socket, especially the memory of Skywarp _not_ filtering his overload and the sensations of a ravenous spark.

In the end, they responded with soothing neural touches. It was all too clear that Miles was _not_ ready for physical intimacy yet. But the purely neural touch had brought him to an exceedingly gentle release that was more comfort than climax. He had fallen asleep almost instantly after, feeling safe and protected, before Jazz ever had a chance to show him what he'd been up to on the Nemesis.

Miles took a fast shower, got some clothes on (what a relief _that_ was), brushed his teeth (thank God), and had a bowl of cereal from the human sized kitchen that had been set up for him. He was ready to go with 10 minutes to spare before Ratchet started yelling.

"You should have some additional protein as well, Miles." Prowl noted, watching him eat.

"Yes mom," Miles grinned back, grabbing an energy bar to eat on the way as Prowl picked him.

"That is..." Prowl's voice cut off as his processors recognized the intent. "One would think that I would be more adept at catching a joke after this long," he smiled at Miles and walked out of their quarters. "You will be able to sleep yourself out when we return," he promised.

"I'm counting on it," Miles said with yawn. "So, Ratchet and Prime are basically trying to find out if Jazz did something else to me? Is that what this physical is all about?"

"The majority of it should be to ensure the Decepticons did nothing more to you," Prowl spoke quietly as they passed through empty corridors and into the tropical sunlight. "I am certain they will try and find out everything Jazz did that wasn't authorized or agreed to, and speak with you about it and your choice to remain with us."

Miles shifted to speaking through their new and increasingly strong bond without even realizing he had done so. ~And I should answer them just like we said? Honestly, but not saying how difficult it was for Jazz to tell me? I wish Optimus, at least, could know that he is _not_ manipulating me.~

~He will learn, eventually,~ Prowl promised gently, inwardly impressed with the speed at which Miles had been able to discover how to connect this way. ~Jazz must be ready to admit it first or things will go very badly. I know it is a great deal to ask of you, especially now. You have seen a tiny hint of the insecurities Jazz harbors towards allowing others close to him, the real him, and the even greater ones towards allowing the world in general to know. Jazz honestly prefers to be thought of as a Decepticon traitor than a good Autobot. Yet he has been a good Autobot for much of the time I've known him.~

~I understand ... well at least as much as I can. It's worth it. The first time we shared and he suddenly was so upset, I knew that there was so much more to him than just the easy going mech he shows the world. Optimus and Ratchet both know that he broke mission protocols, though. I told them he spoke with me and helped me figure out what to ask Skywarp. I hope that doesn't really mess things up.~

~No, that will not upset them. It was upsetting for Jazz. It was undeniable proof of how much he cares for you,~ Prowl smiled gently across the connection and gave Miles a gentle but supportive wave of affection and offered strength. ~You will do fine. There is nothing you can say that will hurt any of us. It will simply make Jazz feel better if no one realizes he was upset he is about the strength of his feelings.~

Prowls words and more importantly the surprising strength of his emotional support was enough to settle and relax Miles as they entered medbay where a fidgety CMO and serious Prime regarded them closely, obviously taking in Miles obvious comfort with Prowl.

"Can you stay?" Miles asked aloud, for Prime and Ratchet's benefit. ~If it is for the best for them to talk with me alone, that is fine, but I don't need them being mother hens. If they are so concerned about my rights, then they ought to let me assert them.~

"I have no where else to be," Prowl said diplomatically, fully aware that either of the other mechs had the authority to order him to leave.

"You may stay," Prime agreed. "Where is Jazz?"

Prowl paused to gather a sense of where his bonded was. "On the beach. Simpson Point, I believe."

"Miles, this won't take very long. However, I'm going to need run a rather deep diagnostic scan through your socket. It can be an uncomfortable, rather invasive sensation. I would recommend you not be awake while I conduct it, but that is your choice." Ratchet made no indication that he wanted Prowl to put Miles down, for which the youth was thankful. He had an extra strong need for a security blanket at the moment.

"Honestly, I'd rather be asleep for that part, but I'd like to know what you find." Miles lifted his blond hair in the back where Ratchet plugged in his medical interface. Miles posture immediately relaxed to rag doll state and his eyes shut, as though Ratchet had hit an "off" switch.

Optimus did not waste time. As soon as Miles was out in his TIC's hand, he turned to face Prowl **"How is your socket? From what he shared on the way home, he has been through a lot, and behaved in a very resilient manner for one so young."**

**"He is very resilient,"** Prowl said with that small inflection of significant pride. **"He is still undernourished, dehydrated, weak, distressed, somewhat confused and angry. From my understanding, all within normal expectations for what he has been through."**

**"The town of Tranquility seems to have bred at least three surprising and resilient 20 year olds. Or perhaps it is simply the species. I assume from his demeanor when you entered, and his request that you stay that he has decided he wishes to remain with you?"**

**"Yes, Prime,"** Prowl responded with all his natural decorum. **"He said that he loved us. Even though he was very angry with Jazz's earlier actions, it was not enough of a reason to leave."**

**"I am glad to hear that, Prowl, it was never my intention or hope that he would leave. Only that he be informed and have the choice,"** Prime's voice and expression spoke of utmost sincerity. **"I know that this has made what has been an exceedingly difficult time for you and your bonded even more so."**

Prime added through private comm. ::I am well aware of the significance of Jazz breaking mission mode, old friend. It will remain with me and go no further.::

::Thank you,:: Prowl's voice held a wealth of emotions for one who knew how to hear it, honest gratitude chief among them. ::Be aware that Jazz is more than a little angry that he was punished for doing the same thing you ordered him to, and Miles is well aware of those additions to his nanite code as well. I am unsure how either will react when their emotions begin to settle, other than Miles' statement that he wishes to stay and Jazz will not resign.::

::I am certain it will not be the last time I will be informed of my own hypocrisy, nor reminded of how frustrating my own base programming can be when it comes to decisions such as these. Miles has as much right to question and be angry with me as he did with Jazz, and though like your bonded, my reasons are logical and innate to me, that will not be a comfort to those who have felt violated by those decisions. I regret having been so angry with Jazz. It would not have changed my orders, but it certainly did not help matters.::

::No, it did not, though from what I have gathered, Jazz barely noticed. He simply is not afraid of you,:: Prowl could find a strange form of amusement now that it was over and feeling once more. ::If Miles speaks to you at all, I would not be surprised if he informs you as he did us. He would much preferred to have remained ignorant of both changes.::

**"I've completed the scan,"** Ratchet reported, still connected to Miles. **"There is nothing malicious that I can ascertain. From what I can deduce from the complex programming of the claim nanites, I believe Miles is very well protected from any sort of viral threat. We would do well to mimic some of those traits for the rest of our sockets. Physically, he is just as I would expect him to be. Nothing that rest, hydration, and a few good meals won't cure. Whenever you are ready, I will wake him."**

Prowl glanced at Prime and nodded. **"Please wake him."**

Miles was starting to get used to waking up with optics staring down at him. "Everything cool?" he asked, sounding exhausted.

"You are fine, Miles. The _'Cons_ did not infect you with any malicious or additional code that could be a danger to you or anyone else. You need sleep, food, and hydration, but that is to be expected." Ratchet's careful phrasing - what was said and not said, was apparent to all who were present.

"Are we done, then?" Prowl asked politely, more than half expecting to be sent to wait outside for the conversation with Miles.

::Anything I need to know about the nanites?:: Prime quickly commed Ratchet.

::Other than they are brilliant from a coding perspective in terms of protection and sharing protocols, and that we should probably have Jazz do upgrades on everyone's so long as he doesn't drop in spec-ops code, no. I do not see anything new other than the coding you ordered, which is now inactive.::

"Miles would you mind if I had a few words with you on my own?" Prime said graciously. "Perhaps if I could use your office, Ratchet?"

Miles gave a small nod, and then found himself transferred from one set of hands to another. He couldn't say he minded, but sometimes he felt real compassion for the kitten he and Virginia had constantly picked up and carried around. At least he wasn't being dressed up the way Virginia dressed up Sparkles.

"Of course," Ratchet nodded with a motion towards it. "Mikaela is enjoying Eclipse Point."

"Thank you," Prime left his officers in the main medbay and remained silent until the door closed and locked behind him, ensuring their privacy. He sat at the desk and gently set Miles down on it. "I know you have said you've chosen to stay with Jazz and Prowl. I wanted to make sure you understood your options. Just because they have claimed you does not mean you have to remain so."

Miles could practically feel the care and empathy radiating off of Prime. It was comforting and ironic all at once.

"Sir, not to be a smart ass, but I give the socket orientations. My job is to know that stuff and make sure that other humans know it too. I'm staying with them because I want to, not because I feel like I have to."

"I understand," Prime rested his hand on the desk, a nearly unconscious move to shield the young organic. "I also understand the difference between the theory you teach others and the reality of doing so, of pressing charges, against your direct superior and one of the deadliest mechs in the army."

Miles sat stunned for a moment, and finally gave an incredulous laugh. "Press charges? Ok ... you know what? I've had it today. I'm done. First of all, I'm completely exhausted. I've slept maybe an hour in the last 24, and that wasn't even all at once. And then I finally come home to the people I love, ready just to share and be safe, and guess what? I can't even do that because you've ordered Jazz to tell me that he programmed something that could kill me."

Miles stood up, folded his arms in front of him and glared at Prime. "And yeah ... it pissed me off. It still pisses me off. But, fuck, this is a war, and my entire planet is at stake, and I'm the socket to your two highest ranking officers, and if this whole experience taught me anything, it taught me what a risk I could be not just to them ... but to everything here. So yeah ... I'm pissed as hell he didn't ask me first, and so is Prowl, and so, obviously are you. But I also believe him when he says _why_ he didn't tell me - because now if he has to activate these things for the greater good, and I know it's coming, it is going to be the most horrible, painful death I can imagine. And so great ... now I know and can consent to something that really had to happen anyhow and which I would have said yes to, and the only thing it has done is eroded my trust in the person I love and make all of us feel like shit."

Before Optimus could even say a word, Miles tirade continued. "And then ... to top off this absolutely splendid day, I find out that you sent Jazz to the Nemesis to put something else in me so I can be the little Socket Transmitted Disease carrier for the 'cons, and by the way, the two that I shared and gave it to seem like pretty decent people in their own way. And guess what? That could have gotten me killed, too, if Skywarp figured it out. And you know what? I even get that. Jazz said it was for the greater good, to make sure that they don't target other sockets. I let a feline the size of saber toothed tiger rape me for the same reason, so Skywarp wouldn't take anyone else. But now _you_ are trying to convince _me_ to press charges ... against Jazz? For putting the greater good above the people he loves? When you did the exact same thing? The only thing I want to do is try to forget the last couple of hours ever happened, and come home and be with the mechs who cared about me enough to claim me, because they are what kept me form panicking the whole time I was up there. When I closed my eyes I could see them, I could hear them, they helped me do what I had to do to survive, and when Jazz did get there, and I knew I wasn't alone, I knew that there wasn't anything I couldn't handle. So no ... I'm not fucking pressing charges against Jazz!"

Prime listened, and carefully hid the relief that wanted to make him smile even as he pressed on. "Do you recognize the difference between what Jazz did and what I ordered done?"

Miles looked up at Prime, feeling desperately tired and wanting nothing more than to be asleep on his favorite lap for the next 20 hours. "Dude, I'm sorry, but I don't really give a shit right now. I just want to sleep and be done with this fucking day."

"Very well," Prime inclined his head and offered his hand to Miles to climb on. "I will return you to Prowl. I do wish to speak with you again, when you are well-rested."

Miles climbed up, still exhausted and surly, but just a tiny bit curious. "All right ... tell me then. What _is_ the difference between what Jazz did and what you did, other than the fact that you were the one who ordered it and you probably discussed it with others ... wait ... that is the difference, isn't it. Jazz did this totally on his own."

"Actually, no," Prime's voice was remarkably gentle as he stood, careful to brace the human against the abrupt change in altitude. "The difference is between something done during a situation, and something done without any immediate use or need for it."

Miles shrugged. "Sort of makes sense. You made the right decision if it protects others from going through what I went through. But, honestly, having kill protocols for the sockets closest to your highest ranking mechs makes sense, too, and by the time something came up that actually warranted that, it could be too late. The only other option it to make sure a socket never gets close enough to have any real information. I'd rather be allowed to be close to them. It's worth it."

"As angry as I am with Jazz, I am pleased you have chosen for yourself to stay," Prime admitted. "They are both good mechs, and I know Prowl cares for you deeply."

"They both do." Miles said quietly, with no hint of doubt.

* * *

Will was on his daily jog when he saw the silver Porsche 918 Spyder drive by at a breakneck speed, heading toward Simpson point. Before long, he had made his way to the sandy beach where he saw Jazz quite a ways down, in his base form, sitting in a position that looked nothing like the normally upbeat mech that Jazz presented to the world. Will jogged down the beach until he drew even with the SIC. "Mind if I sit with you for a minute?"

The ripple of armor plating warned Will that he'd actually managed to startle Jazz to some extent, though he was grateful it wasn't by enough to kick defensive reflexes in.

"Yeah, sure," Jazz was visibly pulling himself together, putting the mask back on, even as he looked over at Will and smiled. "What's up?"

Will sat down and looked out a the ocean, deliberately not looking at Jazz's visor. He felt it when the mech looked back out to sea again.

"So, I know you've got some people pretty pissed at you right now. I just wanted you to know that I'm not one of them. You did the right thing, and people can stick their moralistic bullshit where the sun don't shine."

"Did Hide tell you?" Jazz asked, though there was a faint lift in his voice. "What I did, that is."

"Nope. Prime briefed me - wanted a socket's perspective on it. Hide and I talked about it, though. We don't agree. He hasn't been black ops."

Jazz huffed a chuckle. "No, he's much more a front line mech. Great in a firefight. Not so much when ya need ta be quiet or subtle. Same with Prime, really. We never did see optic ta optic on mucha anything."

"Kind of hard to see optic to optic when you are the size you are and designed for stealth. Great big afts don't have a clue. Hide is ... well ... he is just Hide. I love him. His spark is in the right place. But he just can't see it, how it is so much better not to know. I've never had that choice. And I knew it would be awful."

"I've triggered it for agents, watched them die to protect the mission, protect the Autobots or whatever I had to," Jazz's voice became more distant as he drifted into memories. "I've seen it the way it was meant to work, the way I designed it. Quick, clean, painless. Processors go off line first, then it does its job on the memory banks and body. Dead and on their way to Primus before their frame even realizes there's no one controlling it anymore. The way I wanted to go if I really couldn't get out.

"What they can't grasp, even when I showed Prowl, was what it does when you know it's coming and fight it," he sighed, dropping his face down, relieved nearly to the point of trembling just to have someone friendly to _talk_ to that he hadn't shaped, trained, reprogrammed. "I've seen that too. The agents that know are th' ones I know can trigger it for themselves and relax, let it take them. Your cyanide pills don't begin ta match how bad it is to be _aware_ as yar body's taken apart cell by cell.

"I never wanted him to hurt like that," Jazz barely whispered. "I was just protecting 'im, them. Every socket I've had."

"They don't get that it's not just about protecting vital information. If there had been no way to get him back from the cons, and they were going to do unspeakable things to him before they killed him? You could of triggered it, couldn't you. They don't even think about why someone would even be in the situation where that would be a gift."

"I can," Jazz nodded. "Those situations are all I see. All I _do_. Hide tell ya what I did before?"

"Nope. I know you were a 'Con, but nothing else." Will glanced at Jazz, and then looked back at the ocean.

The silver mech chuckled. "That I was. Head of Intel for'm. But that was just more I what I did before. Megatron was just another employer. I broke mechs for a living, for anybody who paid. Merc, of sorts, but if nobody paid, I'd still break somebody, just fur th' fun o it. Fur th' challenge," his voice drifted off again. "Optimus is the seventh Prime outa seven I knew personally. I'm fifth generation Cybertronian. I know that doesn't mean much ta ya, but I danced with Prima when sha was coronated. I was there when h'r spark returned to Primus," his voice nearly broke from memories nearly as old as time.

"Damn, Jazz. Just ... damn. I knew you guys were old ... had seen a lot, but I can't even wrap my brain around what you just said. No wonder you play by your own rules."

"Yeah," he murmured. "Even Hide's a youngling ta me. Not than any ov'm grasp it, what that does ta I mech. Most old mechs look't. I look youngr'n Prime."

"Why so long, Jazz? Why are you so much older than even their oldest, and don't look it at all?"

"Couple theories, mostly that somethin' about us old ones is different. Most were changed, twisted by the Unmaker so they couldn't safely make new sparks, their lives were shortened, sparks and frames weakened. I never was changed, but I've paid the price for it. All those I know like me were born, not made. We've all fixated on someth', adapt and evolve and all that. There are a few ah've found over ta vorns. Some mechs live a _long_ time, like Kup and Alpha Trion, even Ironhide, Chromia and Ratchet, but they all show it. Only ones that don't ar' like me. Black Ops by nature. Always changing, never bound by anything for long."

"How can you care about anything ... anyone after everything you've seen come and go?" Will looked up at him, truly trying to grasp his end of this conversation even as it sunk in just how desperately Jazz needed someone to _talk_ to, to just vent to.

"Wish I know," he hissed in real anger at nothing he could touch. "Every time I try to break that bit I code. I can suppress it fur a generation r two, but it always comes back ta bite me, hard."

"Yet you bonded with Prowl," he said simply, realizing how astounding that was.

Jazz actually shuddered, a keening sound escaping him that was almost too high for the human to pick up. "An' like the others, I'll see him fade an' keep going."

Will gasped, suddenly realizing something astounding. He stared at silver mech beside him in awe. "You didn't have to come back... You could have been done, gone on to whatever came next. Forgotten about this whole life. You didn't have to, but you did."

"Like I said, we're passionate," Jazz sighed, half suppressing another shudder. "I was given a chance ta get back to my bonded. I couldn't not take it. I'sa lot easier between'm, when I'm not tied ta someone, but Primus never turns me loose then. Only when I've got the drive ta live. Even knowing how much I'll outlive'm, when I do love, I give'm everythin' I am. Passion, fur good or ill; for 'is life, Prowl's my everything. I'll do anything fur'm."

Will sat and thought, staring at the ocean, just trying to get his mind around it. Annabelle, Sarah, and now Hide were what kept him centered, gave him the strength to do the stuff that had to be done, no matter how dangerous or morally repugnant it might be. For Jazz, to love meant he had to care, and to care meant opening himself to all of the pain that an existence longer than a human could ever imagine would bring. Yet it was also probably the only thing that made such an existence bearable.

"You know, Jazz, for the first time I think I'm thankful to be mortal. A thousand years or so, give or take? That's plenty. I don't want any more. And when it's over, if there is anything beyond this for me and I get to meet my maker, we'll have words about what's been done to you. Because it seems unspeakably cruel to me. But it also seems to me that lovin' someone, being loved back is the only thing that makes life, any kind of life, worth living. I'm so sorry you've had to lose so many."

Jazz shifted his gaze to the human, a touch of surprise crossing his features.

"Thank you," the mech said after a brief moment. "Most think I'm even more an abomination than my age makes me when they realize I've bonded more than once."

Will shrugged. "You're welcome. Maybe your kind don't get it, but none of them have had to deal with what you have, right? They just assume you are the same as they are. In a strange way, I think humans and maybe other organics are far more likely to try to understand. We _know_ we are different from you. Besides, our lives are so short that unless we are in total denial, we are _always_ aware of loss, and know that love is all that makes it bearable."

"Love, or at least I goal," Jazz nodded. "Ya don't have a cultural expectation that ya'll follow yar mate in death. 'Nough do that the myth stays'n circulation, but it's a myth for my kind as much as yours."

"A goal is just a different kind of love ... or at least passion. And love tends to make the goals ... well it makes them a little more clear. Like right now my only real goal is to make sure my little girl has a world to grow up on and she and her mom don't end up in some generator. I'll do _anything_ to make sure of that. Puts everything into perspective for me. And you know what, if I could put that programming in her, or in Sarah, that you put in Miles, to give them from an escape from a hell I couldn't save them from? I'd do it in a second. Wish someone would do it for me, and make me forget I had it."

Jazz looked at him thoughtfully. "I can. For them too, if they agree. It's one thing ta do that ta my socket. Quite another for somebody else's. Especially Hide."

"I need to have a long talk with Hide before that happens. Have to make him understand. Annabelle ... well ... she is too young to understand. It's a decision Sarah and I'd have to make for her, until she was old enough to make it for herself. But I think that is the trick, Jazz, with the whole consent thing that has Prowl and Prime all tied up in knots. It seems ridiculous, because who when they really understood wouldn't agree to it? But keeps you from any more trouble. If they can say yes, and then forget they ever said yes and that it happened? What a gift. I can talk to Miles, too, if it would help. I'm sure once he really thinks about it, he'd understand."

"Ya'd have ta put your permission for it all in writing in fronta Prime," Jazz nodded. "Cause ya couldn't say you did afterwards. If you do, I'll do it for ya. Miles sorta understands, but if ya'd talk ta him, I'd appreciate it," he managed the first honest smile he had in a while. "All he'd heard so far is folks telling'm how wrong what I did is."

"I'll talk with Prime about it, too. I should have some say in this. I _am_ the human commander on base, even if I'm wise enough to defer to you and Prime and Prowl's judgment 99% of the time. And I'm happy to talk with Miles, give him the perspective of a dad on the whole thing. In a strange sense, even though you and Prowl are the kids' lovers, you probably also fill that roll for him in a sense. I can help him understand why I'd have done the same for Annabelle. And there is no reason I can't fill in as a human dad for him from time to time, if he wants it."

"I think he'd like that," Jazz's smile widened just a bit. "He's had to be the adult and the dad for most of his life. Some mechs have to 'grow up' fast, but it's nothing compared to what he had to do."

"Once he's had a bit of a chance to recover and get some rest, I'll have him over for the evening to our place. All of you if you'd like. It will give me a chance to get him to the side and have a chat. He's got a couple of good mechs, Jazz. I'm glad you claimed him. Kid like that deserves to feel taken care of for once, and nothing can do that like sharing. Most amazing thing I could have ever imagined." Will got a soft smile.

"Yeah," Jazz's own smile softened. "Not quite I spark-share, but intensely intimate if ya let it be. An' an evening tagether sounds good. Great excuse ta drag Prowler outa his office."

Will grinned. "Jazz, I don't think a human could handle much more intimate than the sharing thing is. We'll leave the spark stuff for you guys. I'll talk to Sarah and we'll have you over soon. Doubt Hide would join us. He's not very into the social stuff unless it involves shooting something or fulfilling Annabelle's every wish and demand. Did that ever surprise me. Little girl as him wrapped around her finger."

Jazz snickered. "Behind all that armor is a spark that loves the young ones. He's always been that way. It's cute blackmail material."

Will's face lit up with a wicked grin. "Oh, _that_ I have to see."

"You got it," Jazz's expression mirrored the human's as he pulled a holographic display from subspace and began to tell stories of Ironhide's long history of being a complete softie for young ones of all races.


	37. Fear & Fire 2: First Date

**Fandom:** Transformers Bayverse  
**Author:** gatekat, chai16 and femme4jack on LJ  
**Pairing:** Red Alert/Inferno/Maggie Madsen  
**Rating:** NC-17 for mech/female, mech/mech, mech/mech/female  
**Codes:** Slash, Het, Voyeurism, Bondage, Humiliation, Kinky, Xeno (Transformer/Human), Sticky  
**Summary:** After finishing her application process and already recovering from her socket surgery, Maggie finds an urgent e-mail demanding that she report for a 'proper' interview.  
**Notes:** Written in the Dathanna de Gray fanverse (community .livejournal .com/ tf_socket_fics)  
**"text"** translated Cybertronian.  
"text" organic languages  
~text~ bond talk  
::text:: comm chatter

* * *

****

Fire and Fear 2: First Date

* * *

Maggie was on her way to the security hanger and none too happy about it. The analyst was used to busting her ass at early hours for her job, but this was ridiculous. What more did they want from her? She had already been briefed on the background of the situation long before this base even existed and was more then qualified. She even had their fancy socket technology jacked into her neural system, which made her even faster and more efficient, if not outright deadly, in front of a keyboard. Maggie had every right to work directly with the Autobots. If anything, relocating to this base would make her job much easier considering the advanced tech floating around down here. Aloud she grumbled, "A proper interview? What's that even supposed to even mean?" The process was simple. She had already handed in her resume and was told she got the job. That would not be taken away from her.

Making it to the entrance of the strangely shaped, Cybertronian designed Command Center, she wondered if she was the only one that had to put up with this. Whipping out her phone, she sent a quick text to Glen to see if he had to show up as well. They both applied and interviewed together, so it would only be fair that they make him go through this extra bullshit right along with her. Making sure it was on vibrate before tucking it away, Maggie pressed her hand on the metallic plate of the one human sized door and waited for it to slide open, only the damned thing wouldn't budge. Looking over the door, she noticed a new security panel had been freshly installed and was currently denying her entrance. With a sigh, she pushed the button and announced into the intercom, "Maggie Madsen, here: reporting for an urgent appointment." It was almost impossible to say the last part without sounding as annoyed as she felt.

Maggie then felt an annoying, nearly painful tingle move through her entire body before a compartment slid out from what had appeared to be a seamless wall.

"Remove all non-essential items and place them into the compartment," an uptight, mechanical male voice instructed. "This includes all communication devices, electronic items, pathetic excuses for datapads, and any accessories you are holding or wearing. Scans were sufficient to not require you to remove your extraneous textile coverings at this time, but that will be evaluated."

If she thought she was aggravated before, Maggie was downright pissed off now. From the violating sensation to the intrusive tone, everything about this guy was rubbing her the wrong way. Grudgingly, she placed her purse and laptop bag in the container. But by God, she was not giving up her chapstick. "Removed and ready," she said stiffly to the intercom.

"Your petroleum product as well. It is being absorbed through your dermal layers and is toxic to your systems. I will not tolerate my staff taking any risks with their health or well-being," the haughty voice insisted.

A peaceful mantra played out in her mind as she took the tube out. But she smothered her lips with it first for good measure before depositing it along with the rest of her belongings.

She refrained from adding her own opinion on health and exactly who was at risk for theirs at the moment and simply asked, "Satisfied?"

"For the present," the voice replied, sounding anything but. "You may enter." The door slid open, and she found herself standing in front of a mid-sized, mostly white mech with red on his sides and small sensory horns.

"I am Red Alert, the Chief of Autobot Security. You were hired for your position before I arrived and was tasked with bringing to my satisfaction the abysmal state of security on this base, with our allies, and on this planet in general. As such, you will need to complete an interview and security check with me to determine you suitability for the position for which you were hired. Unfortunately, we cannot return you to the mainland because your socket has already been installed and you have seen too much. If you fail to pass the security check, there is a possibility that you may still be allowed to work in food service, cleaning, or another service related position among the humans rather than being confined brig. If you will follow me..."

Maggie regarded this new mech with smoldering green eyes. How dare he waltz in here and threaten to take away the one job she could actually care about: advanced tech and working with aliens that could actually take her brand of constructive criticism in the workplace. It was what used to be the one job that offered any semblance of security before this hot shot noob showed up. The fact that he was the security officer made it laughable.

With fists clenched, she moved to jog along side instead of behind him. Knowing that if this did not end favorably for her she would go right over his horned head, she managed to calmly ask "So does this mean you've been re-evaluating every employee on this base that arrived before you?"

"Only those who directly report to me," he replied tersely, making it very clear he felt it should be otherwise, though he did slow his stride to make it less difficult for her to keep up with him.

It was oddly comforting to hear that he wouldn't be just after her if he had a choice. And she was falling behind him less as he made himself easier to walk beside. She was even feeling slightly less on the spot and almost at ease. Then he kept talking...

"If I had my way, Ms. Madsen, there would not be a single organic in a sensitive position on this base," he continued. "Your processors are ludicrously easy to hack, and you have no ability to put up firewalls or shield yourselves from an external attack. There is simply no way you could keep sensitive information from an enemy who wished it. This puts you at great risk for capture and harm. My function is to mitigate risk. Unfortunately for your personal safety, we have no choice but to work with you. Our numbers are unacceptably low."

"Charming to hear we're just a last resort to you," Maggie spat out before she could stop herself.

Red Alert stopped in his tracks, peering down at the little organic as though truly noticing her for the first time. He knelt down so that his optics met her eyes.

"Ms. Madsen," he retorted as though instructing a child, "organics are my last resort not because they are not useful allies or valued symbiotes. They are my last resort because I cannot protect them from the danger that is always ready to strike any one of us. I _cannot_ put firewalls up in your mind the way I can craft them for the rest of my staff and for my bonded. I cannot fathom why your kind would even put yourself in this kind of danger, to work with us when we are always at the brink of an attack, save that I understand that your species is in just as much danger away from our base is in it, which is what we are attempting to change if I can ever make this base even a fraction as secure as it needs to be."

Maggie wanted to stay mad at him. A part of her felt she had every right to: coming here the last minute and threatening her new position. But he did have a point. And the little voice of logic inside her attested to that. She was used to people speaking down to her, acting superior even when she was right. But at least this bot had a decent reason to.

"I understand where you're coming from and, to an extent, appreciate it." But of course, nothing could stop her from sounding critical as she asked, "So, you guys really came up with this highly invasive and energy sucking technology, and no way to block it from unwanted hackers?"

The white mech made a huffing sound. "It has nothing to do with the technology. We can use nanites to safeguard our sockets from unauthorized energy harvesting, or even from access to your minds through the technology. But there are many other ways of gaining access to an organic's mind, not to mention that nothing, save perhaps forcing you to stay in this command center for the remainder of your days can keep you frail organic forms safe. I have been around enough organics to know that they do not respond well to being confined, even for their own safety." The mech sounded mournful about this fact. "I could have prevented so much harm had they only been willing," he added, before standing and continuing down the corridor until he reached a lift. He used a cable to connect to a port next to the panel and the lift opened. He actually waited for the human, gesturing her to proceed first.

Maggie had to keep her mouth shut for a very different reason this time. As a computer analyst, she was used to being held up in confined spaces for extended periods of time. So long as she had a connection to cyberspace and a means by which to manipulate it, she was more then set. Oh, and maybe a few basic needs like food and warmth met. But really, the idea of being confined, and purposely at that, almost turned her-

Abruptly, she switched her line of thought as her face took on a slight flush. She was here to defend her position to the person who was, it seemed, her new boss, not to let her mind wander back into kinky internet land. She'd need all of her mental facilities focused to deal with this mech; even if he was acting almost chivalrous after that little insight into his mainframe.

"Thanks," she said while stepping into the large lift with him. Deciding to try making more of an effort and getting on his good sided she added. "So, what security protocols have you put in place so far that I should start becoming familiar with? For the most part, I'm just designated to be an analyst and offensive. But better understanding the defense you laid down could help me set some limits for my work."

The white and red mech almost seemed ... approving?

"The primary defenses I have enacted at this point are constant surveillance through an ever-expanding network of audio, visual and non-human-compatible sensors around the island, the waters and under the ground around us. There will be at least two mechs on duty at any time I am not to sound an alert if anything out of the ordinary or threatening is detected. They are backed up by several computer systems dedicated to monitoring conditions in this area and around the planet.

"Should there be an attack, be it Decepticon or of native origin, it will be among your responsibilities to assist in getting the civilian population to the secure bunkers below this building."

She was looking forward to the computer systems aspect of her job. Not so much having to act like a sheep herder during crisis periods. Even still, she politely nodded. "Understood. I was already briefed on the locations of emergency exits and the proper locking procedures for the holding locations."

The lift came to a stop and she looked up at Red Alert expectantly. She was curious to see where he would lead her next for this unnecessary second interview.  
Somewhat to her surprise, the lift opened to the security level; Red Alert's well-guarded domain. She could feel the sensor sweep that preceded him, though it wasn't directed at her this time.

Without a word he stepped into the hallway they were at the end of and walked at a human pace to the third of several identical doors. As it opened, a deep, resonating harmonic she'd learned to associate with their native language greeted them.

**"Hi love,"** Inferno called out. **"Is that one of our new security-humans?"**

Maggie had listened to that alien dialect countless times after her first introduction to it, but despite that she still couldn't suppress the old familiar shiver that came with it. Though where the Decepticons typically produced a harsh, grading tone through their communications, the Autobots were a near direct contrast. In particular, the mech awaiting them within the room had rich and smooth timbre and soothing rumble.

Taking a deep breath, she entered just behind Red Alert to spy another mech. She was used to feeling small around the Autobots, but thus far only being in the presence of Optimus Prime made her consciously aware of it anymore. This new mech brought back that initial sensation tenfold.

**"That is what I have brought her here to determine,"** Red Alert answered. What his words lacked in warmth he made up for in the way he cast his optics on this other mech. She had no doubts this was his bonded, even if she didn't know his name yet.

The giant red mech caught sight of her and smiled as he swiveled the chair he was in around in the processes of standing. He crossed the distance in barely three long strides and suddenly Red Alert was wrapped in his arms with their mouths pressed together.

The security mech squirmed and sputtered, but even she could see it was surprise rather than objection. It was barely a second before Red Alert had calmed and was kissing back, his delicate hands exploring the elaborate grillwork of his bonded. Now how the hell a giant robot could look delicate was beyond her, but next to the towering form of his bonded, Red Alert sure did to her.

He nearly whimpered when Inferno released him to kneel in front of her with a gentle smile on his features that did remind her of Optimus Prime, only less intimidating.  
"My designation is Inferno. **Inferno** in Cybertronian," he told her smoothly. "You would be Maggie?"

"Yeah," she managed to breathe out. Even in English that voice had a captivating quality which drew her in. "I was recently hired to join your team and am happy to begin any assignments you might have for me."

After a kiss from those metal lips, Red Alert seemed a bit too distracted to worry about the details of her specific placement on base. Not that she could blame him. Inferno's presence was politely demanding of attention.

"Your usual assignments will be up to Red Alert," he offered her his hands to step onto. "My focus is damage control and search and rescue; the fire department I believe you call it. So if there's trouble, it's my plans that kick in."

Despite the disappointment his answer held for her, the tone he used was sweetly coaxing. It led Maggie right into his awaiting hand as if she had done so a thousand times before. Though once standing in his palm she wasn't quite sure what to do next. If she just sat down she'd pretty much be letting a guy she just met comp a feel. So after a moment of consideration she just eased herself down so she was instead sitting on her tucked under legs.

"It's a relief to know we have such a secure team being put into place," she commented while continuing to ignore the elephant in the room, hoping Red Alert would let the interrogation session he seemed to have planned slide in the wake of the pleasant distraction that was Inferno. "So, how long have you and Red Alert been ... working together?" Regretfully, keeping the conversation professional would need to be a must for now despite Maggie's burning curiosity of how a mech relationship would even begin to work.

"Since shortly after the war began," Inferno answered easily and stood slowly, taking apparent care not to disrupt her balance. "I was transferred to Iacon, where Autobot headquarters was, shortly after he came on line."

**"What are you doing? She has not passed my security check yet. I do not wish to give her the impression that she is staying! She could prove too much of a risk."** Red Alert commented to his bonded, sounding unsettled, though in a much less strident tone than he spoke with _anyone_ else.

**"Please, love, if you don't want her I do. My team has lower security requirements and her file indicates she would be helpful; unless you prove her to be a spy, of course."**

**"That is what I _intend_ to find out, love. One can never be too careful. It wouldn't be the first time that they have used organics as spies, and there is always the chance she could be a pretender. Her programming and signals analysis skills are actually quite developed for an organic as primitive as these humans. I intend to find out why."**

This was so much better then staring at a computer screen, Maggie thought, straining to track and follow the rapidly firing Cybertronian signals; though without her programs and instruments she couldn't begin to interpret the meaning of their conversation. But if she had to guess, she'd place quite a hefty sum on her employment being the topic at the moment.

Despite its high and displeased sounding frequency, Red Alert's voice held a certain charm. Meanwhile Inferno emitted deeply vibrating tones that Maggie felt through the hand he held her with. Listening to them both caused goose bumps to break out down her arms.

Deciding a distraction from her new fixation was in order, she almost too politely inquired. "Is there a problem?"

"Just Red being Red," Inferno smiled down at her.

"Tell me how you came to posses the particular skills your record indicates," the white and red mech suddenly demanded of her.

Maggie looked between the two. Inferno's explanation wasn't too comforting, and being followed up by Red Alert's question that practically seethed with suspicion placed her right back on the defense.

Maggie took a calming breath before answering. "Despite the flaws in the educational system, when someone puts forth enough effort they can get a lot out of it. It's just a matter of applying the right resources and knowing what to do with them." She paused before adding, "In other words, I just went to the right college and met the right people along the way."

"We do know who those right people are," Inferno reminded his paranoid bonded. **"Besides, what better way to force out a spy than to give them enough of a false temptation? It works well for Jazz."**

**"You just want her because she's aroused,"** Red Alert grumbled, his focus still on Maggie.

**"I won't deny it's nice,"** Inferno didn't take the bait. He knew his bonded didn't intend it. **"It's been so long since we had one of our own to share."**

**"I _can't_ do it again, love. Not after last time."** His hands began to tremble as he regarded the organic in his bonded's hands with anxious optics.

Inferno reached out with one arm and pulled Red Alert against his side before lowering his helm to murmur soothingly. ~It'll be okay, love. I did not mean to claim her. Only to have one that wasn't Ratchet's giving you a medical charge or just doing us a favor for the bonus for their mech.~

"I should hope so," Maggie replied, after they seemed to be finished, trying not to gape at the open, kindly affection Inferno was showing to his...colleague even as she resisting the urge to lean against the metal fingers surrounding her. Those exotically computerized cadences were really getting to her. "You already hired one of them."

Red huffed at that statement.

"If you are referring to Mr. Whitmann, his security screening has not yet been completed, and will not be until after yours. Tell me about the incident when you handed over classified data which you stole from your government's secure defense headquarters; specifically, how it was that it took so long for them to detect that you had removed it."

Despite expecting this question to come up, Maggie felt blindsided by it, especially the detail of which he was asking for. Until this moment, she felt fairly secure in her position here, this meeting being no more then a tedious annoyance. Now she really was threatened and rose to the challenge quite literally, as she took hold of Inferno's digits for support as she stood. Red was still looking down at her from his closer position beside Inferno, but the extra inches still helped her feel that much more confident.

"Yes, I am. And I acted to prevent an international incident; and succeeded, revealing the true source of the signal that hacked our systems. All I did was make a copy so I could do so from a more controlled location where I had more resources at my disposal and a like-minded partner to crack it with. They hadn't detected it because I know how to cover my tracks, at least long enough to get the job done. Which I did," she finished haughtily.

~Think about how useful that kind of insight will be,~ Inferno cooed over their bond, sending as much calm support as he dared.

~Even being around one of them is difficult. I may not be able to do this!~ Red sounded panicked across the bond, even as he tried to regard the human steadily from where his bonded supported him.

~You _can_, love,~ Inferno insisted. ~_We_ can. Trust me.~

"We are aware of the incident which you are referring to. Tell us more about how you were able to cover your tracks; and about the weaknesses of your government's information systems as you perceive them." Red managed to sound less strident with the human.

There was definitely more to this situation then she was aware of. The feel of the room was too tense for this to just be about her brief covert stint as a government fugitive while trying to help said government. Crossing her arms at Red Alert, she tried to read the metal plating of his face but couldn't quite place what she was seeing in his expression.

Giving up, she settled for just answering the question. "Everyone in the room was so focused on the signal that they were too busy staring at their own screens to see mine. Also, it wasn't like I directly copied and pasted the data onto a flash drive. I have a makeshift external that was put together from an ancient computer I had stored away. The system is so old most modern computers don't see it, let alone register it. With that in place, sending the Decepticon encrypted code to it was a simple matter of time and watching camera angles and whose eyes were where, without making myself look suspicious, of course. After that, I just tucked the hard-drive away discreetly in a case that is barely glanced at by security due to its typical function and just walked out with it."

She couldn't help but indulge in the swell of pride at her actions, even if it currently compromised her position here in the optics of her hopefully new boss.

~I told you she has a great mind for this job. Think of how good she'll be at spotting folks doing what she'd do if she wanted to sneak something out.~ Inferno spoke gently, and rubbed the much smaller mech's side affectionately. The brief glance he gave Maggie was one of approval and a form of pride.

~I will admit that she is a pleasant surprise,~ he responded almost tenderly to his bonded, relaxing slightly against him, though still warily regarding the fragile organic female. ~I will give her an opportunity to prove herself useful, or prove herself a spy,~ he finally decided.

"Ms. Madsen, I am granting you a provisional security access at level beta-6 for your probationary period. That is, by the way, the highest level of access I grant to organic staff who are not yet on my permanent team. Your first assignment is to conduct a detailed analysis of the risks to our information systems from an organic point of view, most specifically, how an organic who is under the control of our enemies, whether Decepticon or native, might be successful at removing classified data from our facility. In other words: your job is to attempt to do what you did at the Pentagon, and to see if you can get past me."

Maggie abruptly dropped her gaze to inspect Inferno's hand, almost surprised to find that her stomach was not in fact there. Huh, she could have sworn she felt it just drop.

Shaking from the absurd thought, she focused on the proposition to prove herself only to find her heart racing and palms tingle with perspiration. Taking a deep breath, she finally felt contained enough to look from Red Alert to Inferno calmly before finally replying. "If I say, 'I'll do my best' would you hold it against my possible position here?" The grin that spread across her face was positively ecstatic.

Red Alert's frame began to tremble again, imperceptible to any but his bonded. But this time it was not his glitch, but the excitement of the chase, and another excitement he would absolutely not admit to, but his bonded knew full well.

~Giving chase could be pleasant,~ he admitted shakily.

~Yes, it is,~ Inferno rumbled, encouraging his bonded. ~She's going to be well worth the chase.~

"You will begin immediately. You will indeed do your best. I will accept nothing less. Whether you succeed or fail, such an effort will help strengthen our systems here from possible organic espionage. I insist that all mechs or organics on my team have quarters within this facility for their own protection. If this is acceptable to you, I will show you to your apartment."

Maggie felt a vibration through Inferno's hand and glanced at him curiously before looking back to Red. The security chief seemed far less high strung then before. And his statement gave her the impression that either way she was initiated. Though by no means did that imply she would slack on this challenge. Instead she would try and work it more to her favor.

"I barely finished unpacking above ground, so yeah. I have no problem relocating down here with you guys." Licking the last of the Chapstick residue from her lips, she added, "But before I begin, I will be needing a few things from my belongings that you took from me earlier, as well as a moment to myself to prepare." Before he could protest, she quickly continued. "It is only fair since any infiltrator you might get would have months to prepare for this sort of thing. Sure I work well spontaneously, but not without at least some supplies on hand to work with."

"Ratchet had prepared a safe skin softener to replace the petroleum based kind you had," Inferno told her, his engine pitched faintly higher. He glanced at Red Alert. "Would you like me to see to collecting her things with her?"

Red Alert seemed indecisive for a moment, but then nodded. ~Please, love. I _need_ to stay here for now.~

~I know,~ Inferno leaned down to kiss his bonded with a tender, patient passion that kicked both their fans up a notch.

"You may have all your items save those that are dangerous to your personal health, including your laptop and cell phone that over time can cause cellular mutations leading to cancer. You no longer need them because of your socket's wireless access to the most advanced computer system on your planet. I have already taken the liberty of having all of the data from your laptop and phone transferred to your personal files in our network," Red replied, as his bonded left with the small organic.

Maggie's face flushed a deep scarlet as she was carried out. Her laptop was her life, and happened to have a rather embarrassing selection of fetish erotica hidden carefully within folders inside of other folders. And now it was ransacked by her alien boss. If it was possible to die of mortification, she would have right there in Inferno's palm.

The only thing that kept her knees from buckling was the hope that the files were simply moved and not searched through. The laptop she could lament and move on from later. But right now her dignity was at stake. The fact that a set of blue optics weren't regarding her judgmentally helped. "Just... how personal are those files kept? Who now has access to them?"

"For those that are work related, access is granted based on security clearance and purpose," Inferno's gentle rumble vibrated through her. "Personal files are secured. Only Red Alert and you have access to them, though if he deems something a security risk it will go to the appropriate authorities, usually Prowl and Jazz, who determine what to do about it, and whether he's being overly paranoid."

Inferno's velvety metallic tone managed to calm her down a bit. But she still couldn't shake the feeling that she'd been virtually violated, even if Red didn't peek through all the files - especially the ones where she stored several failed attempts at writing forced containment and bondage erotica. But come to think of it, the prospect of her current assignment was right along the lines of a few choice fantasies.

Abruptly shaking her had and folding her arms Maggie managed to say, "Alright. But next time can a girl get a bit more of a warning that my personal property is going to be plundered and destroyed? I put a lot of work into that computer and would have preferred to strip the files and sell it online or something." The request was reasonable enough, and if anything Red just gave her all the fuel and motivation she'd ever need to try her damnedest to take him down.

"You'll never need to be concerned for funds again," Inferno said gently as he stepped into the lift after opening the door with a quick cable connection. "I'm afraid if you want prior warning, you have it now. He'll scan every file that ever crosses the system. There are no secrets from that office. Not unless your name is Jazz and even he has far fewer than he believes."

Maggie nodded almost solemnly at that little tidbit. She really wished she knew beforehand, but at least from now on she could monitor herself and choose internet searches carefully. If she really needed a fix she could always take a leave of absence and have a field day at an internet cafe or something. Maybe even go back to printing stuff out and keeping her more ... private files as hard copies from now on.

Feeling more secure, she looked up to find herself within the lift. Despite its size, the space felt even smaller with the towering Inferno. Being held in his hand didn't help either. It was kind of exhilarating, which, of course, lead her to the decision that she was going to probably need a leave of absence from work much sooner then was typically expected.

Back in his safe zone, seated on a comfortable chair at his command counsel, Red Alert began to simultaneously monitor locations all across the island and in several locations around the planet, while at the same time turning a small portion of his processors to cross referencing certain concepts on the human world wide network, specifically those related to the terms 'bondage and confinement fetish' and 'hentai'.

A small smirk graced his faceplates. **"Interesting. Very interesting."** he murmured aloud, unable to help but to share the information with his bonded.

"Are you all right, Maggie?" Inferno's gentle rumble distracted her. "Your vitals have spiked."

"Huh? Oh..." Maggie felt her face flush even more, which probably wasn't helping her appearance as a cool and collected computer analyst, but that voice at such a low and almost caressing decibel was alluring. "Yeah, I guess I'm just caught up on how I'm going to be able to adjust to this new lifestyle. It still hasn't completely sunk in that I am my own electronic device now."

"And this ... is arousing?" he asked in that same voice, his engine revving once more and his hand a bit warmer as the rest of his plating heated.

"I-what?" Maggie shifted against the warm metal hand to look up at Inferno. Despite his blatant alien appearance, she could not ignore the universal expression he was wearing. But she wasn't quite sure if he was teasing, testing, or really flirting with her.

Deciding to settle for honesty and see where that got her Maggie shyly answered. "Well, when you put it like that, yes. It kind of is."

"Do you have a lover to assist you?" he asked, his tone much less readable even as the thrumming of his systems increased in response to her.

There was no way Maggie could shake the feeling that she was about to be propositioned. She also happened to have no clue how to even begin to feel about it, either. This was obviously her boss's partner. Were her loyalties being tested? Her ability to find the most 'out there' things erotic sure was. And it was harder to get much more out-there then an giant mechanoid sentient alien. If anything, she really should have deleted that folder from ! She was certainly paying for her perversion now. Before the silence that settled over them within the confined space could feel any more intimate, she replied, "Not at the moment, but I am used to taking care of myself. So there's no worry about me and fraternizing inappropriately with my new coworkers."

Inferno cycled his optics and cracked a smile. "That is good to know; I'm sure Red will approve, though I wasn't trying to test you. My apologies that I made you uncomfortable. It was not my intent."

Somehow feeling even more self-conscious, Maggie placed a hand on Inferno's finger reassuringly. "Then I'm sorry I mistook your question. Guess I'm just feeling a bit paranoid about everything." She couldn't help the giggle that bubbled up after that. The enormous mech really had an almost calming feel about him, even if he did just rile her up a bit.

'Defiantly going to need that leave of absence ASAP,' she thought heatedly.

"I ... can assist you with your ... condition ... if you wish." Inferno felt his legendary calm begin slip. He was strong enough to woo the hyper-paranoid Red Alert into the ultimate act of trust, but he wasn't lasting a breem against an aroused organic with a socket.

~Much of the pornographic imagery and literature found on her laptop contains elements of being bound and immobile. Capture, non-violent containment, and a category referred to as Hentai are prominent. The later of the subtypes involving human females with large mammary organs being chased down, confined and pleasured by various tentacled alien creatures and futuristic mechanical sexual experimentation devices,~ Red supplied helpfully as he watched with rapt optics from his lair, adding a completely unconvincing, ~Not that I'm interested in her in anything other than a professional manner, but I know _you_ need the charge.~

A sound too high for the human to hear escaped Inferno. ~Not helping, love. I'm trying _not_ to terrify her, you know.~

~With her levels of arousal? I think all you would need to do is show her one of your cables and she would likely remove all of those ridiculous textile coverings and have you in the lift. I can stop it between levels if you wish.~

~Not helping,~ Inferno repeated with a far more desperate whine. ~You just want to watch me charge with her.~

~I want only what keeps your spark safe and healthy,~ the smaller security mech replied smugly, one hand gripping his interface panel while the other held on tight to his chair.

Maggie was caught between wanting to giggle at the absurdity of the proposition and knowing she should scoff indignantly. Instead she began coyly, "Well, I don't presume to know much about your culture, but where I come from it's consisted unprofessional to fool around with my boss' wife."

Realizing what she just implied, Maggie abruptly slammed a hand to her forehead. "Not that I mean to say you must be the woman in the relationship! If anything, Red seems to be the one that-" Her hand came down prevent her foot from traveling any further down her throat. It was no wonder she never seemed to last very long at a new job.

Between Red Alert's teasing, lust flowing over the bond and the requirement for looking up her references, Inferno took a couple seconds to work out what she was saying, and why it made her react like that.

He cycled his optics. "Ummm, yes, not very applicable with Cybertronians. No offense taken and none was intended. The social rules are very different between mechs and organics than between two mechs."

"Another thing I'm going to have to adjust to." She awkwardly fidgeted in his hand, wondering why the damn lift was taking so long. He basically just admitted to her that he'd be more then willing to get her off and with seemingly no strings attached. It was so much like those Japanese cartoons Glen got her into. If her imagination went any further with the possibilities she might end up rusting the metal palm with her excitement. She already needed a fresh pair of panties and cold shower as it was. And that voice! God, she could feel it every time he spoke, sending a jolt of awareness to her stomach. "Thanks for understanding," she whispered regretfully.

Without warning the elevator shook hard enough to jostle Inferno. Before either of them thought, half a dozen cables came from inside his hand and wrist to hold her securely against the warm metal and he curled her against his chest, protecting her with both hands as he slid down and braced himself from moving again.

~Red!~ he bellowed at his bonded.

~Yes, yes, but check her _now_,~ Red purred over their bond. ~She wanted you before. She's almost past thinking now.~

Breathlessly, Maggie managed to gasp out, "Why is the lift still shaking?" A fraction of a second later she realized it wasn't. She was.

"Oh ... never mind." She couldn't imagine being any more turned on. At least not without also being stripped naked as the cables prepared to incessantly penetrate her, all the while being held in this strong grip with surprisingly gentle fingers. Pressed as she was against the plating of his chassis, the analyst suddenly noticed that the built in bra of her blouse was failing miserably at holding back her erect nipples. Before she could help herself, Maggie pressed them into the warm, vibrating metal of Inferno.

"I know what your body wants," Inferno managed not to stammer as Red made 'helpful' suggestions over their bond. "I'm not going to tell you I don't want to. It's still your choice."

~Red, if she says no again, you _have_ to let us out until she's better prepared.~

His bonded's only response was to send a tightly compressed file of screen captures from the tentacle and sex machine hentai videos he had found on the internet that he judged were most to his new staff member's tastes.

Inferno tried to counter, to find some objection, but his processors simply refused with the trembling, sexually needy organic clutched tightly in his hands and against his chassis. He caught one of his cables snaking around to rub the underside of her breasts while another that had been securing her leg began to rub it instead.

Maggie was more aware then she'd ever been before about what her body wanted. And right now it was for her fantasy fetishes to come true within the confines of Inferno's hands. She felt more then heard that orgasm inducing voice strain when he offered her a way out. She knew she should take it. It wasn't like she wouldn't have other chances for this. Or would she? Was this a one time deal? Could it still be a test of her morals and work ethic? But then... from what she read of the sockets, the exchange of energy between an organic and mech was encouraged. She just hadn't had the time to really consider what that might entail which she now found herself living.

Still struggling to think straight an then respond accordingly, Maggie let out a surprised gasp at the feel of something warm and sleek curving from beneath and then around her breasts. After wrapping securely around each one the exploratory tip then worked its way into her cleavage and dangerously close to her stimulated nipples.

If that weren't enough of a brain freezing action, the cable holding her leg was now moving along it. The sensation was between ticklish and pleasurable, causing her to eyes to roll back and hands to tightly grip the plating of his chest. She knew she should ask him to stop, tell him they needed to take a breather and rethink this. But the only sounds escaping her lips were coos of approval. And instead of pulling the cables off of her she was stroking them encouragingly.

She felt a cable nudge the back of her neck, where her socket was.

"Plug it in," Inferno's rumble bordered on desperate. "I'll do anything you want."

She had no doubt he was at least as turned on as she was.

~That's right, love. Beg her. Beg her to let you fill that luscious socket and every one of those lovely holes. Then I can watch you make her scream.~ Red purred across their bond, and Inferno had no doubt that the white and red mech's hand was gripping his own spike.

"Please Maggie," he couldn't refuse his bonded or his own desires anymore, his mind imaging that black hand sliding down the red-sided white spike. "I'll make you feel better than you imagined possible."

Leaning back against the cord, Maggie felt her socket already begin to respond. The pressure was soon accompanied by an elation that caught her completely off guard. She abruptly reeled, overwhelmed by the sensations and darted away from the cable that caused them, though she couldn't get too far, held as she was by the other cords.

Through that brief connection she had also felt Inferno's craving for her. It was as frightening as it was luscious, leaving her craving for more but hesitant of the means by which to get it. This socket jacked right into her brain, giving this mech whom she just met complete access to everything she was. This entire situation had to be too good to be true, as if orchestrated by an outside force working to make everything she had ever desired come about. Common sense demanded she decline and really think this through. The dampness between her legs insisted otherwise as she pressed down onto a smooth cable that couldn't have been there a moment ago, causing a high pitched pant to claim her mouth.

The cables around her continued to stroke her, though they all largely stilled.

"I will never violate you," he promised with everything he had in him. "I'll never take more than you freely offer me. Anything else would be agony."

"What if I want you to?" The words were so quiet, and said in such a carefully controlled tone that for a moment Maggie wasn't quite sure they were her own.

"If it is truly your desire," he struggled to find the words to tell her ... that yes, he really would do _anything_ she desired him to. "Plug my cable in, so I can know what you desire."

"No." Something inside Maggie had come to the surface and gave no indication of leaving anytime soon. "If this is what you want from me," she traced her socket teasingly with her one free hand, "you're going to have to take it." To emphasize her point, she began struggling within the tight hold he had on her. It sent exhilarating shivers down her spine and a hungry warmth to build and pool within the open and willing socket.

**"Primus forgive me if I'm misunderstanding her,"** Inferno whispered before wrapping several more cables around her, holding her still, and plugging his cable into her socket.

The rush to his spark of her arousal, the raw intensity of the forbidden, the game he understood well through Red Alert, dragged a hard rev from his engine and a blast of pleasure returned to her through the cable.

~Mine,~ he willingly gave into her desires, playing the role of a captor that had no interest in what she wanted ... because that was exactly what she wanted.

His voice sent a jolt of awareness straight into her stomach just as he dove into her neck. Maggie screamed out her pleasure as ever nerve was brought to awareness of the invading being that had so easily captured her body and mind. Internally, her thoughts raced excited by this unfamiliar sensation she had only dared to dream about before. The burst of ecstasy ensnared her senses and brought her body to a new height with no release in sight.

At the same time, Maggie outwardly fought the takeover. Her hands gripped the cables circling her breasts to pull them off while her legs twisted and kicked to be free from their own confines of Inferno's obstinate cords.

~Beautiful. You are both beautiful. Tell her that it's no use for her to resist you. Show her how much more powerful you are, how you control her mind and her body at this moment, can make it do anything for you. She will love it.~ Red purred again.

His vents wide open, streaming out hot air and his fans pitched in a desperate effort to keep him cool, Inferno let himself submit fully to both fantasies playing out around him, through him.

"There is no resisting, human," Inferno growled deeply, the jolts of energy to his spark guiding his actions as he felt his way through her fantasy by first taking her clothing off with as much force as he could without damaging it. "You body, your mind, your very will is mine," he continued, his cables carefully 'forcing' her all too willing body to spread her legs, bent her knees so her glistening sex and tight pucker of her ass were exposed not just to his cables and optics, but for Red Alert's viewing pleasure as well.

One cable rubbed the full length of the slit, pressing in to stimulate her nerves while others played with her nipples. Yet another forced it's way into her mouth as her wrists were raised above her head and held fast.

~Want to see your spike in her, thick enough to make her beg for mercy she doesn't want. Make her look at it and see how huge you are and plead with you not to frag her with it.~ Red Alert sounded close to the edge over the bond.

~Soon, but you have to hold off,~ Inferno purred smugly. ~I'm just getting started.~

The sinfully deep voice describing her situation was almost too much for Maggie. Then he proceeded to strip her like a doll. As though his enormous presence over her wasn't enough, his hands simply remained still while mechanical tentacles shifted her around effortlessly. From her new position, she was forced to make eye contact with those hard yet passionate blue optics. Then she felt him begin to tease what needed him the most and she lost it.

~Love you so much. I want to be wrapped up in those cables. I _love_ to be afraid of you.~ Red Alert poured his desires and feelings across their bond.

~I will get you, pin you down and ravage you as you scream my designation for all to hear,~ Inferno visibly shuddered. "Red Alert is watching, you know," he rumbled, unsure how long he could keep from driving his spike into her sex, or maybe her mouth so they could watch her sex convulse as she came. "He knows your every secret. I know your every secret."

Falling into her desired role, Maggie cried out, "You can't! I won't let you-" just as her mouth was filled with a sweet metallic tang. Wrapping her lips around its length, Maggie sucked before roughly biting down on it.

A cable swatted her breasts for it, creating only a mild sting. It was the cable that had been stroking her sex that got and kept her attention though. Slick with her own juices, it plunged directly into her ass while a spiral of three others plunged into her sex, spreading both to the limit where pleasure tingled with pain.

Even as she thought to struggle, a signal from Inferno and her body was no longer her own. She froze momentarily, then shamelessly rocked and thrust into the cables invading her body.

Thoroughly punished, but in no way having learned her lesson, Maggie fought against her own body. But it seemed the more she fought with her mind, the more her body obeyed Inferno's desire for her to shamelessly buck and grind. It caused her to take him even deeper inside, advancing the throbbing burn till it consumed her senses. The feel of him spiraling into her was exhilarating. At the same time the sudden probing was far more invited then she ever could have imagined from her aching body.

Finding that she still had command over her voice, she managed to spit out a cable and contradicted her pleasure with harsh words. "Stop! You can't do this to me!" she demanded in a harsh whisper even as between thrusts she cooed, "Please, I can't take much more."

"Then I will have to finish before you split in two," he rumbled, his engine whining in response to his own needs.

She heard a click behind her, then the soft whoosh of a panel sliding back and she was turned around to look at a cable standing proudly between his legs like a man's erect cock, only she was sure it was large enough to push Red Alert to his limit.

"I'm going to fuck you properly."

A very real pang of fear erupted inside of Maggie at the sight. A sensible part of her wondered if she was way in over her head and actually in danger. Intimidating didn't even begin to cover the fight or flight mode that seized her body's control away from both mental combatants. With renewed vigor, she fought against the binding constraints. All the while her darker desire reveled at the very idea the seductive voice proposed to her. No matter the consequences.

"Beg and maybe I'll shrink it a bit." Inferno tried not to show her how he flinched away from her fear, what his processors were playing for him in the privacy of a very personal hell that every Autobot knew intimately and most would do absolutely anything to avoid.

Red Alert immediately opened the bond fully, holding his beloved close, full of regret that he pushed Inferno to this point attempting to please both the human and his voyeuristic mate. It was a very delicate line they walked with the organics who wished to play; finding the point where the playful fear ended and real fear kicked in, activating the protocols to protect any non-consenting socket. With a caress against the bond, Red Alert sent the highly illegal code that only he and his bonded knew he had created, overriding the protection protocols for the sake of a socket whose pleasures and fantasies collided with their own highly restrictive programming to protect the frail organics. He felt Inferno immediately released from hellish playback in his processors of what exactly they were fighting to protect organics from.

~You are not hurting her. You are giving her something she has dreamed of. You would _never_ harm a socket. Read her vitals, look in her mind, and know that it was just a brief moment. She wants this, wants you. You are both so beautiful.~ He enveloped his bonded's spark with those same assurances.

~I know,~ Inferno replied shakily, though he was recovering quickly. ~Thank you, love.~

Through the socket connection, a subtle and yet immensely powerful sense of safety coursed through her. It whispered promises of dark fantasies without an underlining risk. The sense of trust and love was so overwhelming Maggie felt her muscles spasm around the cables still clutched within her. The spiraled twist pressing against her vaginal walls became enveloped in heat. Meanwhile the single slick cord working past her tight sphincter elicited a sharp moan. It was impossible to think straight and come up with any other way to get him to shrink the menacingly alluring shaft.

Seizing the opportunity at the expense of her dignity, Maggie obliged Inferno and got back into character. "P-please... I can't do it, I can't take that... there's no way!" Her breath was becoming more ragged as the fire of passion within her burned for him to take her anyway, somehow knowing he wouldn't actually hurt her, just give her enough pain to fully ignite her pleasure.

Contradictory to her desire fore more, she implored him further, "I'll do anything, anything but that. Please! Haven't you taken enough from me? You're too fucking big for me like that!"

His engine rumbled deeply and he withdrew the cables from her sex, slathering her juices along her abdomen, around her breasts and up her throat until one pressed against her lips.

Maggie trembled as the cables receded only to coast along her curves. In their wake, a trail of her wet passion was left that made her balk in mock outrage. Reaching her mouth, Inferno demanded entry with his commanding voice while he slathered what remained coated along his length like it were Chapstick.

"Clean them off," he ordered even as the huge phallus began to shrink to a large but human size.

She wanted to continue their game, play at denying him to see how he'd force her next. But Maggie just couldn't summon the will. His rumbling intonation ensnared it from her along with her breath. Opening wide she drew the already damp cable into her mouth. She eagerly licked along the supple length and nipped at the junctures in its surface.

~Want her facing me, or watching me slide that replica of your spike into myself?~ Inferno reached out to his bonded with both very delicious images.

~Make her earn the right first. Tell her to pleasure your valve until I give you both permission to continue. Tell her that if I am satisfied that you have been sufficiently pleasured, then and only then will you impale her on your spike. I want you to sound like the worst sort of 'Con.~ Red was trembling across the bond.

Inferno's vents wheezed, his cooling systems cycling just a bit faster in anticipation. No matter how foreign his bonded's suggestions became, no matter how against his core programming, Inferno couldn't help the thrill he received every time he managed to make Red Alert feel that kind of _need_ without touching him.

"You want my spike, want it buried deep in you, stretching you to ruin you for pleasure from your own kind," Inferno rumbled, his voice laced with static as he fought not to tremble himself. "I can feel it in you, see and smell it in you. Admit it."

Maggie listened to him intently while working his cable around inside her mouth. He was right, and now that he was sized to a more physically proportionate state her weak protests from earlier no longer held up.

Slowly she pushed the cable out, stopping only to kiss the tip tenderly before speaking. "You really wanna know what I want? I want to feel every part of you I can. To experience it like it's the last thing I'll ever feel without any regrets. No human could ever come close to the superiority of that spike you taunt me with. I want it inside wherever you can fit it. I want to be yours. I need you to make me come."

Inferno licked his lips components, a habit picked up from some organic he could no longer name.

"You must earn that right first," he set her between his spread legs, his hips angled to give Red Alert a perfect view of what was happening. "Pleasure my valve. When Red thinks you've done enough, I'll allow you to feel my spike."

Even as his hands left her, his cables continued to stroke her; her breasts, her ass, her sex, even plunging inside of her briefly now and then.

"Make me overload," he growled as menacingly as he could, counting on his mass to help where his nature couldn't really pull it off well.

The hot metal of his frame sent a jolt through her feet that settled in the pit of her stomach. Maggie couldn't help but stagger slightly before she made her way to a plated, port like component of Inferno's frame. At its edge she bent down to run her hand a long the surprisingly slick lip into the feverishly warm interior. All the while she let out gasps and groans as his cables darted in to tease and pull away before she could fully appreciate their ministrations. Determined that she would convince them to linger instead and eventually have that spike next.

Bending forward, Maggie reached her hands out and downwards. At the same time she pressed her lips to those of his valve and sucked at the tangy plating which formed them. Her arms delved deeper into him all the while, nails lightly grating and fingers rubbing in a sensual rhythm.

The reward was immediate. His head fell back, a deep, rumbling moan echoed as much from his powerful engine as from his vocalizer. Under her fingers the interior of the valve quivered and tried to clench around her arms, though there was still plenty of room.

"Yesss..." he hissed and adjusted one leg to tilt his hips, pressing her hand against a large node of sensors.

Red Alert's reaction was instantaneous. Inferno knew that bonded was drawing it out for himself, slowly stroking his rigid metal, determined that the search and rescue mech's overload, even from a distance, would be what actually brought him over the edge.

Feeling the spasm of living metal was frighteningly exhilarating. Intrigued, she watched as Inferno shifted so her hand moved along a curious groove within the valve. Getting the hint, she rocked her hips forward for more leverage to massage the yielding metal. "Is this what you want? For a puny human to get you off where nothing organic was ever meant to?"

~Do not touch her with your cables. Make her wait. I don't want her to accidentally climax too soon.~ Red Alert's commands were sounding increasingly like desperate pleas.

It was all too clear what Red was doing. The ministrations of her soft flesh, without her being directly stimulated, would draw it out in an agonizing and wonderful way, both for Inferno and for the human whose long denied relief would bring the rescue mech a brilliant, unforgettable surge when she was finally allowed to climax and release the energy that was ready to burst from her.

Shaking back her hair Maggie worked her fingers faster against the node. "You are so fucking perverse, my bad mech." she purred accusingly, all the while knowing full well what this made her with the way her own juices were practically dripping down her thighs.

~She has no idea how perverted we can be. Wait until I make her watch you take _me_ while she is restrained,~ Red hissed, sounding as though he was sucking air through his vents.

~Yessss,~ he moaned across their bond, a surge of desire flaring hot between them.

"You know nothing of perversions, human," Inferno rumbled down at her, his entire frame shuddering in his efforts not to overload too quickly. It felt good, but the rush, the lust and intense pleasure he felt from Red Alert was what was really working on him. He wanted his bonded's spike in him, wanted his beautiful Red Alert to be kneeling between his spread pedes and taking him so hard his paint scraped onto the wall behind him. As much as he got off on dominating and putting on these shows for his voyeuristic bonded, his strongest pleasure came when he was the one being dominated directly.

~When you've earned it, my sweet Inferno,~ his bonded whispered.

"Then teach me," Maggie challenged, "or I'll just see about learning for myself."

~Not yet. Suppress her ability to climax until she is riding you,~ the lovingly cruel security head murmured.

Inferno whimpered but did as he was bid without letting her know what extras were going on.

Audaciously, she pulled out her hands and replaced them with her foot. Slowly at first to get the feel, she dipped it into his valve all the way up to her thigh. Her other leg was twisted so she now straddled the opening junction of his valve, pressing her small slit against the raised plating. Using her hands for leverage in front of her, Maggie proceeded to rock her hips against him, slowly at first to take in the feel of her aching sex moving against his.

"Ohhh," Inferno arched, panting through his vents and mouth as he struggled not to stroke himself. His spark was lunging in his chassis, frantic to feel her pleasure, the rush of energy that came with her peak. Instead of speaking, he silently guided her efforts to the nodes that reacted to touch the most. It was cheating, in a way, a cheap valve overload you learned about when you never knew if you had more than a few kliks. He no longer cared about his pleasure, only the show that would get his spike into this organic and bring her to sexual climax for his spark.

Following his lead, Maggie indulged the trembling mech. She felt light surges tingle along her skin as she stimulated each one with her foot. All the while, she continued to gyrate her hips along his vales outer edge, sending thrilling bursts of pleasure directly into her clit.

The solo cable still attached to her neck lightly pulled at her encouragingly. Unable to deny it, she worked herself up even more. Focusing on the alien connection now more then she could before, the analyst recognized what it was he needed from her and desired to give him everything she could if only to know what it might feel like for him.

Almost as soon as the thought crossed her mind, she felt him open up to her, passing on the sensation she was causing directly to her brain along with a sense of how close it was to pushing over the edge, and how good _her_ pleasure felt on a less physical level.

As Maggie continued to open up her mind to Inferno's processor her sense of everything she was doing for him fully enveloped her. Using it to the fullest she focused her manipulation of each node carefully, seeking to bring him to his peek. The feedback of his pleasure carried over to her and she worked all the harder, encouraged by it and the way it was affecting her own body in turn. The feel of her lithe feet in such an intimate place was scandalously sexy. And to practically be scissoring with an alien mech? Maggie knew she was a kinky little bitch, but to act out on it? And with her new boss' lover while he watched? Right after they just met to discuss her future employment? Fuck.

Becoming too aware of possible regrets to come, she indulged herself and Inferno in the moment.

~He loves it,~ Inferno breathed against her awareness, his mind trembling as much as his body from the building pleasure.

She explored the caress of him within their connection, all the while continuing her feverish manipulation of his frame. Just as she felt him steadily reaching his release she eagerly awaited her own to follow suit. Bumping and grinding against the edge of his valve with abandon. Thus far succeeding in drowning out that little voice of reason with rough moans from her lips and screaming ecstasy within her mind.

~As soon as your overload begins, take her. Don't allow her body to climax until she is filled with your spike,~ came the sense rather than the words across their bond. Red was past words.

Inferno sent back agreement, his own awareness largely past language as she continued to work him. It would be very soon. Just one more touch in the right place...

That voice... It was even more intoxicating when spoken directly into her thoughts. The heat that had been pooling within the pit of her stomach poured out to send an electrifying jolt to her muscles. Writhing against Inferno, she gave into the building rush and let her mind go while her body tensed up in preparation to follow. Only the climax didn't come.

~You must get me off,~ Inferno rumbled to her mind. ~Only when my spike is deep inside you will you be allowed.~

A chill instead of an orgasm shook her body as Maggie listened to his reverberant words. She could have gotten off right then and there on that alone if he weren't denying her somehow. Distress and determination guided her actions as she slid her leg out from the valve. Repositioning herself just so, Maggie leaned forward to the sensory node closest to the outer edge and opened her lips to it. With tongue lashing against it feverishly, she applied harsh sucking motions intermittent with lit nips of her teeth.

Inferno roared, his engine revving until it was so overworked it whined. She had no warning when his hands and cables wrapped around her, pulled her from his convulsing valve and drove his spike deep into her with a single fluid motion. Her cry of alarm at the sudden onslaught morphed into a scream of rapture as he took her. Despite the ridged spike finally clasped within her, Maggie couldn't find relief from her escalating pleasure. He continued to hold her orgasm back for several agonizingly blissful pumps. But when she felt the hot, thick liquid burst into her from his spike he cut her body loose from control. Maggie felt a burst of white energy erupt inside even as she felt the hot liquid fill her and began to flow back out, just as her orgasm seemed to flow through the socket cable and into Inferno. At the same time, another presence she was scarcely aware of from earlier answered back.

They both knew the instant Red threw the bond wide open, keening his overload and funneling some of the sensation toward Maggie through his lover. His ripples of ecstasy flooded through her and enveloped her already convulsing body. It brought a new height to her senses that seized her with a rush of sensation so intense it forced the breath from her lungs. Whimpering shallowly as the second rush abated, Maggie collapsed into the firm hold of the cables surrounding her.

~Good?~ the very bliss-laden mind of Inferno reached out to her, openly wanting confirmation that he'd pleased _her_ and not just her body.

~Fan-fucking'tastic,~ Maggie's still reeling thoughts managed to work out. She had no clue which way was up, let alone any incentive to care. The warm cables wrapped around her body were all the physical affirmation she needed that she wasn't just dreaming. Having another presence thinking alongside her was sweetly comforting. Especially after how much of herself she just revealed. Taking hold of that secure and safe feeling, she wrapped herself up in thoughts of his voice and what it had done to her.

~Good,~ that voice murmured into her mind, caressing it as much as her body as they came down from their bliss. ~Do you enjoy watching too?~

Inanely, she asked the voice, ~Watching what?~ before realizing he was talking about voyeurism in the context of the fact that they just had almost literally mind-blowing sex with Red Alert silently watching.

Her realization was met with a gentle caress from Red Alert across his bond with Inferno. ~You were both so beautiful,~ she heard him murmur almost shyly, as though from a distance.

~Yeah ... yes. I do. Though, probably not as much as it feels like Red did.~ The praise Red gave their performance was practically glowing with flattery. It made her glad she was so exhausted so she wouldn't have the strength to become self-conscious instead of delighted.

Inferno felt an instant jolt of both arousal and discomfort though the bond, and quickly shielded the latter from Maggie.

~I want you to bring her...but I don't,~ Red confessed, "She is _too_ good. Too much what we both want.~

~I know love,~ he sent a wave of reassurance and support. ~We'll be careful. You know I _will_ court her properly, no matter how often we have her.~

~She still could be a spy,~ Red Alert commented sincerely, but with a trace of humor. ~Just a really energetic, kinky one. This could have all been part of her plan to get me to let down my guard.~

~True,~ Inferno didn't feel up to debate, even a playful one. ~So let's enjoy her while we have her. Now _you_ have a date with some restraints, love.~

Suddenly, a spark of lust ignited in her mind, causing Maggie to sigh dreamily. There was something going on inside the connection. And if that promising flare of more was any indication, she wanted in. Reaching out, she sought both Red Alert and Inferno tentatively, still quite unsure of how to actually manipulate their combined connection.

~Want to watch me take charge of him?~ Inferno rumbled, caressing her mind with several images of his plans for the smaller mech.

A resounding ~YES~ danced through the connection as she physically perked up. Opening green eyes, Maggie gazed up at the towering form that was Inferno.

Both felt the lift begin to move again, headed back down to the security level and where the soon-to-be-victim was trying not to tremble in anticipation.

Red Alert was shaking, not with his glitch, though a part of him was concerned how quickly his little issue would take over should he connect again to a socket while awake. He had been in medical stasis for close to a vorn after losing the first socket he and Inferno had claimed together to a freak accident. Some of the medical memory blocks were still in place, simply to keep him from glitching every time he saw an organic.

And now he was to be working closely with one, or perhaps several, and the Madsen one had all the right energy and desires to be an ideal match for him and his bondmate. Already his processors were full of probabilities of all the horrible things that could happen to her in their presence alone, and they were the ones most likely to _protect_ her from harm ... yet they were a constant danger to her.

How could he hope to be with an organic again, to enjoy pleasuring one with his bonded, to watch the tenderness with which his mate treated her? It did not seem possible. And yet, here he was, seriously considering the thought after only just having met her. Watching the intelligent, confident signals analyst live out her darkest, most delicious fantasy with Inferno had been almost enough to make him beg her to be theirs, or do something that would frighten her away for good so he wouldn't.

Inferno, however, would be patient. He would know what to do, how to soothe his fears and court her, whether they claimed her or not. He vented and swiftly did several million complicated calculations to calm his overactive processors, even as he kept ever sensor possible on the security level, searching for risks that could damage her.

~There is an uneven spot on the floor at 7º; 18' 46.596023967" S / 72º, 24' 39.7620683858" E. Take care not to stumble and drop her.~

~I will, love,~ Inferno responded easily, gently, ever aware of how to best sooth the anxious white and red mech. ~She will never come to harm in our company. I have never lost a socket while I was with them.~

~I know...I didn't mean to say that you weren't. I need you, 'ferno. I need to feel your spike in me. I wish I could merge with you, make all of the fear go away, but with her there...~ Red Alert sounded nearly childlike in his desperation.

~You know there are force field walls you can put up,~ Inferno suggested, easily as eager to merge as his mate. ~She could be on the other side.~

"Guess we'll worry about collecting my things later," Maggie whispered as the arrived to on the same floor they had departed from not too long ago. She tried to think of something else to say. Something sexy, witty, even charming. But the sound of the lift and hum of Inferno's systems audibly carried where her voice could not. But at least her inane comment was better then nothing.

"Yes," Inferno smiled down at her. "There will be plenty of time. You need to rest now, and hopefully enjoy the show."

She still couldn't decide what she was feeling. Coming down from a high that intense was draining. Probably because all that built up energy didn't just naturally leave her body but was directly absorbed by another. Shyly, Maggie looked up at Inferno from his hand and marveled at how he had gone from a dark captor to a considerate lover, asking after her satisfaction. It was as sexy as it was daunting. Smiling lewdly at the thought, Maggie wrapped her arms around her chest and leaned into his fingers. Focusing on the promising sight to come made thinking about what just happen that much more exciting. Tired though she was, she already felt her aching muscles heat up at the promise of an enticing show.

Deciding that she needed to eventually get to know them both in another way, she decided to ask, "How long have you and Red Alert been together?"

"We've worked together since not long after the war began. A few vorns ... a vorn is eighty-three Earth years ... after he was brought on line as Prime's Chief of Security I was transferred to Iacon and Autobot headquarters for their search and rescue unit. I courted him for most of the next four million years before he agreed to bond."

Maggie nodded, attempting to comprehend the vast span of time described to her. "Wow, for someone that patient, you sure didn't take your time with me," she teased.

"I am patient," he chuckled as he exited the lift. "Red Alert is decidedly not. The need for an organic charge was high as well. It makes it much harder to resist your arousal."

"Oh right," blushing she looked down at her lap. The sight of her transfluid coated thighs only intensified her already flushed face. "Cause you guys are in it for the power-up. I get it..." Curling in on herself, Maggie rubbed at her arms absently.

Inferno stopped and looked at her, trying to follow where _that_ had come from. Social comforting protocols went into overdrive as nightmares nearly as intense as what he faced with the socket-protection protocols flashed through his active memory. The desire to pleasure her and his bonded abruptly became a _need_ to comfort her.

"I am sorry," he rumbled, accepting that it was most likely something he had said. He brought her closer to his chest, offering comfort much as he did to rescue victims that he had to help survive the loss of a home and often lives dear to them. "I only meant to please you."

At that tone, Maggie Looked up into his kind face and felt a swell of love for this being. Which was insane, since they just met. Him for drought of required energy while she indulged her lusts like a little slut. Ashamed, she reached out to rub his chest soothingly. "Oh, you did. More then anything I could have ever dreamed of. It's just... I dunno." Shifting uncomfortably in his palm, she lowered her gaze to his mouth so she didn't have to see the way he looked at her with those penetratingly deep optics. "It's not you, just me," she finally explained inanely.

"We will not betray your confidence," he offered, trying to make her feel better. "There is nothing wrong with your desires, or ours."

He refused to even contemplate that Red Alert's desires, and by extension of his active compliance, his own, _were_ considered wrong by modern standards, the standards he'd been created under. The flashbacks to the generators and the code Red Alert created to shut those socket protection protocols down would never happen otherwise. All that was carefully shielded from Red Alert, though. Even in a merge, he kept those thoughts to himself as much as he could. It hurt too much not to.

"Trust isn't the issue. Not after the way you opened up to me earlier. And, I'm used to the idea that everyone has their little kinks. No matter how over the top or under the radar they might be." Maggie didn't know how else to explain herself. Telling the alien that his idea of an afternoon snack was the human equivalent of an easy whore? Even now she was still feeling eager to watch Inferno take Red Alert. What did that say about her? Guilt ridden and already begging for more.

"Come on," she urged to change the subject. "Wouldn't want to keep Red waiting."

Inferno hesitated, torn between his own desires to be with his bonded, his desires to do what those hurting needed and knowing that whatever was wrong with her wasn't settled.

His pedes decided for him, moving his large frame towards the security office.

~Love, I am going to ravage you until your vocalizer gives out,~ Inferno rumbled with need as he focused on obeying the thing all three of them wanted.

Maggie held her breath and waited to see Inferno's next move. When it was to continue on their course she let it out in relief. The longer she put off having to think on this any further, the longer she could simply indulge the moment. Later, when the elation had passed and she held newly made sweet memories close, she could let them tear at her viciously.

Inferno swept into the control room and deposited her on a ledge near the entrance.

"Whatever you do, do not get down," he focused on her, as deadly serious as she could imagine any firefighter being. "A force field will protect you from us if this goes too far for your safety. Understood?"

Bare-bottom hitting a cold hard surface unceremoniously, though gently, Maggie gaped at the mech before her. She managed to mouth a 'yes' in affirmation under his hard gaze. It was alarming how quickly his moods seemed to change with her. She quickly stopped herself from wondering how that might affect their relationship when they actually got to work; that was the last train of thought she needed to board right now.

Instead, she was going to just sit here like a good little girl and watch the live action robot porn about to unfold before her. _Later_, she thought, _freaking out can come later._

Inferno nodded and turned his attention on the trembling smaller white and red mech in the command chair. "Now _you_ are in for it, my pretty little thing."

"Wait ... yes ... but she is naked," Red Alert responded, sounding panic laden and venting hard, "Her body temperature is low. If her body is working too hard to stay warm, it will inhibit her immune response and make her susceptible to dangerous pathogens."

"Her clothes are there when she cares to dress," Inferno rumbled. "Or raise the room temperature," he suggested seductively as he put a large hand on either side of his lover, braced on the control panel. "Am I not, after all, know as _Inferno_ ... the fire that consumes everything."

Confused, Maggie glanced down and sure enough there were her clothes. Surprisingly still intact and ready for wear. But she couldn't find the strength or desire to actually put them on. Besides, she'd probably just get the pants soaked once the show got underway. Settling for reaching down and then pulling the shirt around her shoulders, she looked to Inferno and Red Alert. Already the dance has began, their rumbling voices filling the room and sending sweet tingles along her skin.

Red Alert shivered, then sent a quick signal to raise the ambient room temperature to 80 degrees F with a relative humidity that should make the human feel relaxed and receptive. He then forced himself to focus only a few subroutines on her and the monitors, turning the bulk of his processors to the consuming optics staring down at him dangerously...so dangerously beautiful.

"Consume me. That will heat her up," he said shakily, wrapping his arms around his bonded's waist to pull him in.

"I exist to consume you," Inferno rumbled as he brought one arm in and pulled his bonded to his pedes with just enough force to make a surge of energy course through the sleek fastline frame. The larger mech wrapped his other arm around him and held him tightly against his chassis, Red Alert's pedes dangling, and claimed his mouth for all the his fierce desire.

It was a delicious paradox that the place Red felt safest in the whole cosmos was in the large arms of his bonded when he acted dangerous. He keened into the kiss, making halfhearted efforts to break away, only to be gripped tighter as he wrapped his dangling legs around his lover's hips and began to grind their panels together so hard there were sparks.

~Yes, love, punish me for being such a paranoid, glitching aft who nearly terrified a lovely organic and then locked you in the elevator with her for my enjoyment. I've been _such_ a bad mech.~

Inferno's engine revved hard, vibrating their plating and sending a burst of heat into his lover. Without any apparent effort, he maneuvered them to press Red Alert between his frame and the wall, and quickly pinned his wrists there with a pair of mag-cuffs.

"You are going to be still and take what I give you, glitch," Inferno ordered, pressing Red Alert's hips to the wall to force him to stop rubbing against him.

Red struggled with his wrists, trying so hard to pull free that he was losing paint, even as he lost himself in a fear that was addictive and hot rather than cold and terrifying. Their playful games confronting the darkness of their own processors subdued his paranoia of the real unknown for a time.

"Just try and take me, slagger. You don't have the guts!" The security mech taunted back while simultaneously sending his adoration to his imaginative, playful lover over their bond.

Inferno chuckled, his tone going dark, seductive and completely demanding of absolute submission. He reached between Red Alert's legs, pressing against the interface panel. "You're going to _beg_ me to take you before I do."

Red Alert responded in his own deadly serious tone with two simple growled words. "Make me." He then proceeded to rock his hips against the pinning hand, as though to get himself off with or without the help of his captor.

"So much defiance, and yet you're so eager," Inferno rumbled, pressing his body against his lover a bit more, working his fingers around the interface panel. He knew just where to touch to make him arch and gasp, make his frame tremble with need, only to take his hand away.

Goosebumps spread across Maggie's body as the words she had spoken earlier were repeated, but in Red Alert's sweet harmonic tone. The room was radiating with their energy, running through her just enough to tease and leave her wanting. She watched agog as Inferno's strong hands lowered Red Alert's wrists, still secured to the wall, forcing the smaller mech to kneel, his chassis bent forward awkwardly to accommodate having his arms stretched out behind him. With a lusty grin, Inferno opened his panel and his spike pressurized quickly. She had a sudden flash of admiration for the way Red looked; arms held back, jutting out steaming chest plates while his red helm was forced into position. Where Inferno had to accommodate for her size, Red Alert would most likely have to take that spike fully.

"You are going to suck me off, pretty," Inferno growled as he grabbed Red Alert's helm with both hands, his thumbs circling sensitive sensory horns, forcing his face forward to meet the large spike.

The analyst couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy as she watched the two mechs, but it was only a fleeting thought. She was concentrating far more on the figures' actions towards one another as the game of dominance and submission played out before her. She was so captivated by the scene she didn't notice that she had began to touch herself until a nail lightly brushed her wanting clit. With a slight gasp, she leaned back indulgently while still craning her neck to continue watching.

Red was fighting hard against the much stronger mass of his bonded, dentas gripped together to refuse the large spike entrance even as he thrashed his head from side to side.

Inferno merely gripped his sensory horns tighter and Red's mouth opened with a moan of pleasure, only to find he had swallowed his beloved whole. He couldn't help but to begin to caress its lovely length with his glossa and massage its sensor laden tip with in his intake. He noted the exotic organic taste of the human woman still on the hard yet yielding alloy that was originally designed to pleasure their symbiotic pets.

~Tell her that I can still taste her on you,~ he whimpered through their bond.

"You enjoy that, don't you?" Inferno rumbled as he guided his bonded's head as he thrust slowly but deeply. "Tasting another on me, knowing you're second-rate at most. Tasting that I found another worthy of feeling my spike, while you only rate using your mouth to pleasure me."

Red Alert's optics glared defiantly, and he bit down on the invading cable, not enough to cause damage, but enough punish his lover with a quick burst of pain.

In well-practiced response, Inferno squeezed his sensor horns a little too much, sending a matching burst of pain down Red Alert's sensory net until he groaned.

Inwardly, Red Alert relished the verbal abuse from his normally considerate, caring lover. ~I get off on your taste even more, and when we are through I will clean your fluids off of her with my glossa. I won't be afraid to touch her if it's to please you.~ he whispered seductively to his mate in contrast with the defiant, angry look in his optics.

~I have no intention of leaving you with enough energy to even try to clean her,~ Inferno grinned down at him, an utterly evil glint in his optics as he shifted back to caressing Red Alert's sensory horns. "For every time you please me, I will allow you to remove one piece of your armor or mine," he rumbled in deep satisfaction at naming their game for the joor. "When all but the interfacing upgrade is gone, I will take your valve. If I am pleased, I will take your spark as well."

Red Alert moaned around his lover in satisfaction at the terms of engagement, suddenly completely wrapped around Inferno's wicked fingers at the prospect of earning the right to the rare treat of their malleable and exquisitely sensitive protoforms sliding against one another.

He redoubled his efforts, lavishing with mastery the intimately known shaft with his massaging glossa and intake before slowly moving up and down its length with deliberate gentleness to coax his captor to fuck his mouth roughly.

"You must do better than that," the larger mech rumbled, feigning displeasure as he grabbed Red Alert's helm and began to thrust in earnest. ~Some orns I wonder how either of us gets any work done.~

~I cannot even think about work when you touch me,~ the workaholic security chief amazingly admitted as he played the roughly thrusting spike like a finely tuned instrument of which he was the master, all the while attempting to pull his helm away from Inferno's deadly-strong hands in mock defiance of the welcome invasion.

Inferno groaned, his pleasure quickening as much at the admission at the effort on his spike. He squeezed and stroked sensory horns, his hands beginning to shake as overload barreled up on him. ~Primus I love you, Red.~

~I'd face any fear for you, my fiery love. Even of claiming another socket. _can't_ feel afraid when we're one.~

Red gave his lover's sensor laden length a pointed electro burst each time it hit his modulator deep in his throat, adding his dente to what was stimulating each node as it pulled out.

It was more than Inferno could take and he threw back his head with a roar that shook the room's very walls. His body slipped from his control as he leaned forward to press his forehelm against the wall for support, his transfluid shooting into Red Alert's mouth and down his intake with each grunting roar Inferno let loose. As violent as it looked, Red Alert was trembling in arousal almost as much as Inferno when the big mech overloaded. The rush of electricity-backed pleasure so close to pain ricocheted between them across their bond until it was all Red Alert could do to stop himself from overloading with his lover.

Maggie was startled by such a primal sound coming from a mechanical being. It was surreal and so powerfully moving that she lost sight of reaching her second orgasm and openly stared. She felt the surge of energy within the room course through her despite the invisible barrier Inferno had warned her of. Her teeth clenched, breathing hard through her nose as she nearly came again despite no longer touching herself.

Brushing tangled blond hair back from her view, a light shine of perspiration made itself known when she touched her face. A giggle bubbled up and she looked to see if poor Red was fairing any better after that.

A static charge licked between Red's sensory horns as if her were glitching. He was so charged that his whole body was trembling on the cusp of an overload that would not come until his bonded permitted him release. He couldn't even play at any defiance - he was pure need, half of a whole desperate to be united.

~Love you, babe, please ... I need you so much. Let me take you, or take me, just let me be with you. I can't wait one armor piece at a time. I need you _now_.~

Inferno was torn. He wanted to give in so badly, wanted to feel his bonded's spike slide into his valve like it was designed just for it, but it was so early in the game. He ran a few scenarios through his processors and picked one that would be quicker but still draw things out.

"A nice start," he rumbled as he pulled away, drawing his spike from Red Alert's hot mouth. "Now see to my other need." He tried not to shiver as he stepped over his bonded and pressed his valve against the upward turned face. ~Soon, but not yet, love. We do have to make a good impression.~

~Oh Primus, love, you are such a fragger. You didn't even let me remove any of your armor,~ came the needy yet amused reply.

But instead of frantically going to work on the slick valve he wanted so desperately to take, Red Alert began to fight, twisting his head, pulling at his secured wrists to give him leverage, but finding it impossible from his kneeling position with his hands secured behind him. Finally, he simply kicked out his leg and tried to wrap it around Inferno's pede in a fruitless attempt to bring down the much larger and stronger mech.

~I'm going to take you harder than I ever have before, love,~ Red growled seductively.

~You must _earn_ that right first,~ Inferno grinned through their bond even as he cuffed Red Alert across the side of his head for the ineffectual kick. "Which piece of armor comes off?" he rumbled pleasantly, his hands drifting down his own body in a seductive dance his bonded would feel even more than he would see.

Red gave a wicked grin, plans beginning to take shape in his processors.

"Your thigh," he said, staring at his bonded's optics with deadly heat.

Inferno held back a shiver of anticipation as he took his time unlatching the armor and disconnecting the tens of thousands of filaments linking it to his protoform.

Red Alert's glossa ran over his dermas slowly and seductively before moving in to satisfy his bonded's valve, slick with thick lubricant. But he ran it only along the edge, teasingly light before tracing a slow line to his lover's newly exposed sleek, dark protoform, and then continued to run his glossa all along the edge of the exposed area.

~Care to take any more off for me, hot stuff?~

Inferno drew in a gasp of air, his vents hitching sharply as he trembled from the indescribable pleasure of having his bare protoform caressed. ~If you can make me overload without touching spike or valve, I'll take off three.~

Red Alert drew back, a smirk on his face, and smoothed his glossa over his dermas the way he knew Inferno was longing for him to caress his rarely seen vulnerable protoform.

"Make it five, and three of my own, and I'll touch you again."

A deep, rumbling warning echoed from the large mech as he glared down at his lover, his optics smoldering with hunger and need.

"Oh, you don't like me naming the terms, Ferno? What are you going to do about it," Red taunted, knowing full well what such blatant disobedience got him in these games.

"This," Inferno rumbled as he closed off their bond so he could still feel everything, but Red Alert felt nothing more than his continued functioning. "Try again and I'll disable your vocalizer, too."

Red Alert's faceplates instantly locked in a look of horrified panic. Inferno unexpectedly had hit him with the very _worst_ of his punishments, the one which would completely break him in an instant. The rational part of him knew that it actually indicated his bonded's desire to quickly end the game and engage in the rewards, a sign of Inferno's own slipping control. But it didn't stop him from giving a desperate keen as he was cut off from the very presence that grounded him and allowed him to delve into such fantasies.

"Please!" he begged aloud between keens since he could not beg through his spark. "Not this! Anything but this. Come back. I'll do everything you tell me to do. 'Ferno...please!"

It was clear that this suddenly was not a game to Red Alert as he dove in to caressing his bonded's exposed thigh with his face and glossa, covering it with tender, pleading kisses, giving his own equivalent to sobs as he expressed through his dermas, faceplates and glossa what could suddenly not be said through the bond; Inferno was _everything_ to him, and he needed him more than he needed his own spark, and would do _anything_ to have him.

With a soft moan from above, the bond flooded back to life with reassurances, affection and a silent apology for Inferno's own weakness that had jumped things so suddenly into the deep end.

~Love you, Red. Always will,~ the big red mech moaned and shuddered, already on the verge of a second overload.

Red gave a very different keen - a sob of relief as he continued to attempt to show the fullness of his love for his bonded on one small area of exposed protoform.

~Love you, 'Ferno. Would do anything for you...anything. Please overload for me, love. I can't play any more. I _must_ have you in my spark.~

It was sort of like listening to someone talking on the phone in that she could only hear one side of the conversation. But in this case, each mech took turns saying one thing and leaving others out completely. Not that Maggie really understood what they were on about even when it was out-loud and in English.

Shifting to a more comfortable position, she watched as what ever robo-angst had taken place transformed back into steamy sex. Bringing her still damp fingers down to her dripping sex, she began working herself back into a rhythm. Her fingers moved in time to what she could see of the tongue lashings Red was currently inflicting on Inferno's unplated black thigh.

The two were so compelling together, their inorganic chemistry as fascinating as it was exciting. What she was being allowed to see now was so intimate and enticing. Caught up in their moment, Maggie slipped a finger inside and felt her muscles squeeze it firmly.

His vents wide open and still gasping for cooling air, Inferno responded by quickly removing the armor from his other thigh, then his lower chassis, before pulling the mag-cuffs from the wall to free Red Alert's hands. ~I'm _close_,~ was all he could manage by way of words, but adoration, desire, calming love and his own rock-solid support flowed though their bond with it as he trembled above his bonded.

Red Alert launched himself at his bonded like an organic who had been starved for food, taking Inferno's mouth with a kiss hot enough to melt circuits. The relief of finally being rewarded with touch and open bond poured off of him as his hands hastily removed the rest of their armor so bare protoforms could slide against one another. He pulled the larger mech down upon himself, wanting to feel the safety of his heavy form on top of his own.

Inferno was more than willing to oblige. Half supporting himself he rubbed his entire body along his beloved's, causing the living metal to quiver and spark. Their mouths never parted as Inferno pressed one knee between Red Alerts pedes to spread them, exposing the only bit of exoskeleton they'd left on to Inferno's thick spike.

~I want to spike you when we merge,~ Inferno begged, having completely lost track of the game. It was no longer important. He wanted this as badly as Red Alert needed it.

Red Alert didn't even need respond in words. The yes/need/love/trust that came through their bond was overpowering. With armor fully removed, there was no panel to cover his valve and spike, both of which were exposed and aching for his bonded. He spiraled open his exposed spark chamber and angled his hips to fully open his valve for the taking.

Above him Inferno moaned at the intensity and the so-trusting offer from his paranoid bonded. This, far more than the overload that would soon sweep through them was his greatest prize. Without any more hesitation he sank into Red Alert's valve fully, lighting up sensor nodes for both of them. He pulled out at the same deliberate speed, and on his next inward thrust he lowered his chest to bring their reaching sparks close enough to touch.

Red keened in rapture with the same intensity as he begged for their bond to reopen. The indefinable ancient pleasure of protoform sliding against protoform met the relatively new one of spike claiming valve. But nothing compared to sparks reaching and touching, and finally beginning to merge into one another.

Every time they merged, and for a time after, Red was as he would have been without his glitch. He became whole and complete.

As they began to become one, the first emotion shared was Red's willingness to do _anything_ for Inferno. To face his fears and court and claim another socket together, even try for a sparkling, so long as he had his beloved.

~I may object and glitch and make every argument why we shouldn't, but know that despite all the objections, this is truly how I feel.~

~I know, my love,~ Inferno murmured, focusing on the absolute acceptance he had of his bonded. He caressed protoform as their pleasure spiraled higher, all but leaving their bodies behind as the merge deepened and they focused on what they had been before time and would be long after their frames had turned to rust. ~I have always known. A frailty of the form, not your spark.~

When their sparks fully merged, protoform, systems, spike, and valve became paradise for two that were no longer two, but experienced all as blissfully one, neither noticing the cries and moans of the organic on the other end of the room who had been penetrating herself rapidly at the same pace as Inferno's thrusts.

Cycling back online, Red Alert found his spark now separate, but coronas still brushing against one another is soothing comfort. He did not wish to move, but his over-tuned sensors became steadily more aware of quiet moans and motions of the third presence in the room. He replayed his memories of the exquisite manner in which she had nourished his bonded's spark and felt great affection for his new staff member. In his euphoric state, being close to her or touching her did not send him into a panic. For the moment his spark-led natural compassion for others expressed itself through concern for her comfort rather than the paranoia due to his glitch.

~Love, there is a very aroused little creature in the room who has been through lot and had quite a show. Shall we help her? I can hardly move, but I'm sure we could easily bring her to satisfaction with little effort. At the very least we could offer to have her bathe with us. She is covered in your fluids.~

~I like that idea,~ Inferno kissed him tenderly before rising slowly. "Maggie? May we do anything for you?"

Aware that she had suddenly become the room's focus, Maggie shyly moved her hand from stroking to concealing. Shifting her legs under her now, she hesitantly answered, "You've already done so much just letting me watch."

"Maggie, you are still very aroused, and that is not a comfortable state to be in without relief," Red said shyly and awkwardly. "Why don't you come bathe with us and let us help you? You have done so much for my 'Ferno. His spark feels so strong," he added in an awed whisper.

With an act of trust that few mechs would even consider, Inferno walked up to her in a nearly bare protoform and turned off the force field that protected both sides from the other. "We enjoy your pleasure," he reminded her, reaching out to stroke the side of her face. "You've given us so much, will you allow us pleasure you without games? Please?"

Leaning into the light touch, Maggie looked from one mech to the other before nodding in eager consent. Why would she turn down such a tantalizing offer? Well, she knew exactly why she should. But right now, there were far more important things to care about. Like how sleek they both looked trimmed down from their armor.

Inferno scooped her up gently, his hands smaller and more pliable than before, but still very large. He knelt and set her on the ground before retrieving two pieces of armor, both for the forearm. Without a word he put his on, then with many gentle caresses secured the other around Red Alert's forearm, giving them access to their cables, which came out from both, caressing her gently.

"Would you enjoy feeling Red's spike, riding him as he lays back and I touch him?" Inferno asked with a deep rumble of arousal.

"Tell us whatever you would like, what would feel best to you," Red added, his vocalizer trembling with both excitement and nervousness. ~It has been so long ... since I have charged with one while I was online. I want it to be exactly what she wants.~

Her face flushed as she looked down at her feet intently before walking over to stand just under Red Alert. "I don't know about you, Red... but Inferno's suggestion is sounding pretty good to me." Maggie then glanced up at her new boss with a giddy smile.

Inferno rumbled his approval and laid down alongside his bonded, gently stroking his sleek, black protoform before bringing his fingers up to circle the barely-covered spark chamber, caressing as well and covering it.

Red shivered as Inferno stroked his exquisitely sensitive living metal and chamber. He gently, tentatively caressed the human woman with a cable from his wrist, lightly tracing her breasts. He was amazed that he was able to have her this close to him without his armor. Not that her little form could harm him in this state, but the need to protect themselves from such vulnerability was part of their core programming. Yet he felt no rush of fear and paranoia. Each time he merged with Inferno, his hypersensitivity calmed for a bit longer, not to mention that his bonded's sheltering of his spark chamber left him feeling completely secure.

"Would it be all right if we plugged in, Maggie?" Red asked shyly, holding out his hand to her to lift her up to his frame. "It will help me know how to make you feel good."

"No, it wouldn't be alright. It would be amazing," Maggie laughingly responded. Trying not too appear too eager, she held back from launching herself at his awaiting hand and instead climbed into it. The feel of his fingers against her still tingling skin was glorious. As he pulled her close, she in turn gathered up her disheveled blond hair to better expose her socket for them.

~She is amazing, isn't she?~ Inferno rumbled across their bond as he leaned forward to kiss Red Alert, long and tenderly with all the passion in his spark for the other. ~Wait until you feel her pleasure. Even unclaimed she is incredible.~

~So bright,~ Red commented with an awe-filled tone. He extended his socket interface cable from his wrist armor which merged using thousands of tiny filaments with the one from his bonded. Normally he would ask her to plug it in herself, to make completely sure that she wished to share before the ecstasy of it left her with an inability to make a rational decision. But he had watched her in the lift, knew how much she _loved_ to be taken, so he gently brushed the cable in a teasing circular motion around her socket before pushing it in, sending her an opening pulse to test and establish the connection.

Maggie tensed at the feel of the slick metal on her skin. But when he lightly trailed it along instead of directly connecting with her exposed socket she immediately relaxed. It was soothing and shy, endearing Red to her even more when he finally slid in. Along with his presence in her mind, Maggie felt an exciting surge of his power rush into her along with his voice.

~I am here, Maggie. Can you feel me?~

~That all depends,~ she thought coyly as her mind reveled in the brief feel of energy, desiring more but unsure how to go about asking for it. ~Do you happen to feel like bliss itself?~

Even his first tentative pulse of pleasure brought instant feedback to his hungry spark, something he had not consciously experienced other than through his bond with Inferno in such a long time.

~Primus, you feel wonderful. She is so lovely, 'Ferno. Isn't she lovely?~ Somehow, Maggie was aware that he was referring to something within her rather than her currently disheveled physical appearance.

~She's very lovely,~ Inferno agreed with a deeply pleased rumble.

More cables emerged from Red Alert's wrist to slide around her, loosely binding her so she could still squirm with pleasure, but giving her the sensation of confinement he could feel her longing for. He carried her bound body to his waiting glossa which began to clean his bonded's fluids from her thighs as he had longed to since she first entered the room. He made sure to feed his every sensation and desire back into her, so she would _know_ how spectacular her pleasure made him feel.

~Touch me, 'Ferno. Let her feel how amazing it is when our protoforms slide together~

The larger mech nodded and shifted over his bonded, careful to clear Maggie as he slid along that beloved protoform, his valve aching for Red Alert's spike.

Maggie felt as though her very essence was being absorbed from her, only to be projected right back, though far more intense and laced with feelings of need, hunger and even adoration. A bittersweet fervor broke out across her skin as she felt his metal tongue continue to explore between her legs. The analyst's breath escaped in punctuated gasps as he worked his way further up to where Inferno's fluids were lingering within her.

But more intense then the physical sensation was the sensation of it caressing her thoughts. It consumed her senses and brought her building orgasm directly to the surface. It felt richer than Godiva chocolate and had her falling back into the loose embrace of his cables.

~I think she's pleased,~ Inferno rumbled as he slid down and began kissing Red Alert's bare protoform, starting with his spark chamber. ~It's so much better than a medical charge, isn't it, love?~

Red Alert shivered at the exquisite sensation of both socket and mech lovers, artfully weaving their combined feelings into one to feed into Maggie's growing glow of nourishing organic energy.

~Yes. She makes Jazz's vintage Vos high grade taste like unrefined petroleum,~ Red responded with a mental moan as he dipped his glossa deep inside of her to taste his bonded's familiar flavor mixed with her own exotic one.

Maggie felt Inferno touch Red Alert as if her own skin was his plating. Her body reacting in turn, arching and trembling with desire. Their words spoken across her own muffled thoughts, the feel of a fluttering flattery that brought a curve to her lips before they opened to cry out her pleasure. Red Alert's tongue drove into her then, causing Maggie's hips to buck against him. Everything felt so good, too good. There was so much to feel and not enough time to give recognition to all of it at once.

She reached out to take hold of the mass of cables surrounding her. Feebly, the woman attempted to pull her self away from that sinfully delightful tongue. It's slow and provocative movements along with Inferno's sweet caresses to hard metal were consuming her. Flooding her even as she propelled the build up right back through her socket to feed the hunger she felt within them.

~I know we promised you could ride my spike, Maggie, and you will, but right now let 'Ferno taste your sex while I drive my spike into him. You won't be let down by the feel of either one,~ he suggested, mentally nudging his bonded onto his back so he could kneel between his thighs.

Inferno shuddered and laid back, his knees up and legs spread when they felt no resistance to the idea from Maggie. He accepted her easily, wrapping her gently in large fingers and gentle cables before he went to work cleaning himself from her legs before lightly sliding his glossa along her sex.

"Did you shut off her vocal processors?" Red Alert asked with a chuckle now that his glossa was free. She moaned as Inferno added a tingling vibration to his probing. "Guess not."

Without any hurry, Red Alert moved his body sensuously down his bonded's sleek protoform, reveling in the exquisite sensations both mechs fed into an organic who had never before experienced the pleasure. Finally he settled at Inferno's valve to mimic on his lover exactly what was happening to Maggie's depths above.

Alien couldn't even begin to describe the supernatural experience being connected to and making, what could only be love with the two robotic beings. Eyes rolling back one way and toes curling another, Maggie delighted in the almost familiar swirl of Inferno's pressure once again against her body. She could hear Red Alert tease her affectionately somewhere above but couldn't make out the words. Probably because her mouth was to preoccupied making out with one of the many cables holding her to a steamy hot, giant mouth.

Alongside the physical assault on her, she registered a similar treatment being taken out on Inferno. His large frame's slight tremors giving her yet another beat to rock her hips to. The pleasure centers of her brain sent a blinding white light throughout her vision. An inhuman shriek stole her breath as the withheld orgasm erupted from her.

Another deep, lustful moan rumbled up from Inferno's body and sank into Maggie.

~Please, love. I need your spike. I need to _feel_ it as she comes.~

"I'm sure she has several more of those in her," Red Alert smirked. "Pity we cleaned up the mess. Why don't you spike her while I spike you, love, so we can all overload at once."

Finally coming down from the dizzying rush, Maggie heard and understood that suggestion. Blinking away the residual bursts of light from her vision, she found herself held by Inferno with Red leaning over them both, a wicked grin firmly shaping his mouth.

A hard gulp made its ways down her throat to scatter the flock of butterflies now going ballistic in her stomach at the sight.

Inferno shuddered at the suggestion and began to move Maggie to his spike, already resizing to fit her perfectly. "Anything, as long as I get your spike in my valve."

"Tell us that you want it, Maggie," Red said in a sweetly seductive tone. "Use that deadly tongue of yours. You know, the one that tells off all your bosses and loses you so many jobs. I'm not going to spike him until you tell me to. I want to watch him sink into you while I sink into him."

Inferno whimpered and looked up at her with pleading optics.

The spike was there, sized just right for her and only inches away from her dripping sex, waiting to be sheathed. Groaning in frustration, Maggie dragged her gaze from it and to Red Alert. She knew nothing about either of them, barely even the basics. And still she wanted nothing more then to feel the both of them as intimately as she could. To get to know them like they apparently already knew everything about her.

Catching her breath somewhat she whispered. "Want has nothing to do with us anymore. I need it. I need you inside me, Inferno. To feel your powerful thrusts that breach the threshold between pain and pleasure. To indirectly feel Red retuning the favor to you directly on my mind. I ache for you both so fucking much," she was nearly sobbing by the time she finished. Throat raw and hands trembling. "Don't deny me another moment."

His entire protoform trembling, Inferno complied with a wash of relief. He slowly brought her down, sliding into her well-used and very ready body with a moan of pleasure that was as much from the sensations of his spike as the glorious feeling of her pleasure and desire strengthening his physical soul.

Red Alert didn't waste an instant, sinking fully into his beloved with a low growl. He had no worries of thrusting too hard. Inferno's much larger frame would protect Maggie from his own wild movements. His unarmored hands gripped Inferno's protoform thighs and he watched his bonded move in and out of the sumptuous being who was giving them _life_.

Red's spark, already fed once by her, was not even close to satiated, but was demanding _more_ and _now_. Watching and feeling his bonded claim her tiny but powerfully alive body even as he laid claim to Inferno's valve was a deliriously erotic sight.

He suddenly had no more patience, and began a passionate pace, needing to bring all three of them to overload fast, to feel that brilliant swell of combined rapture that would satisfy the ravenous hunger inside his spark chamber.

Maggie's body was only just adjusting, beginning to accommodate Inferno's width while still taking in more of his length. Then the penetratingly rough feel of Red Alert's spike pounding into Inferno's valve consumed her senses. She had never been double penetrated before, and physically this probably didn't count, but more because nothing could ever come close. Especially with how close she was to climaxing yet again.

Rapture coursed through her and fed into them, but for every drop they consumed she was rewarded with an overwhelming sense of fulfillment and pleasure. She met Red Alert's hunger with her own and gave all she was worth to feel even more. There was no way she could analyze and pick apart each separate sensation any more. So she gave in to it, let go and truly allowed herself to simply live in the experience.

No longer held back by her need to understand, Maggie cried her ecstasy out. For that moment completely taken by the movement of her body as she soaked up each pulse and sent back her own in turn. The elation had her muscles cramping from how tightly she was wound preparing for the next release to claim her.

Under her, Inferno had wrapped his legs around Red Alert's, squeezing his valve tight around his bonded's claiming thrusts, begging him silently to overload and fill him with his transfluid even as Inferno thrust up, pumping his own spike into the brilliant source of life that was riding him. He reached out though their bond fully, wanting to feel Red Alert's spark being fed as they overlaoded.

Red Alert's overload slammed into all three of them, though even in the midst of shattering zenith of their pleasure, Maggie was tenderly shielded from what would have swiftly veered from pleasure into pain for her human nervous system. Like most sockets, save those few who had fallen into the hands of those who were sadistic or innocently clueless in their first time, she would never know just how much they protected her from themselves.

The security chief's keen quickly rose above the human audio range as his transfluid, created originally to mark and claim their organic sockets with their own living nanites, shot into his bonded, hot and thick.

As Red's systems rebooted, he was overwhelmed with a desire to protect and shelter the tiny creature who had given new life to their sparks, a desire which he well knew would drive her to distraction when his glitched paranoia was not being balanced by Inferno's centering stability. But despite all the frustration it would cause her should she stay with them (and Primus how he hoped she would), his protectiveness, and even his paranoid concern for safety was born out of the deeply sensitive nature of his spark.

**"Love you, Red,"** Inferno murmured as he finished rebooting. **"Maybe here we can merge often enough to keep your glitch under control."**

Red wanted to respond _as often as it takes, my spark_ but found himself instead worrying, **"But my glitch is what keeps you safe ... what will keep her safe. If we merge as many times as it would take, I'd be facing you all the time and not doing my job. And _then_ what would happen?"**

~Lasted longer than last time,~ Red mourned through their bond, recognizing the return of his paranoia, though hopefully less strident from their merge and the nourishing of his spark. He reached down and stroked Maggie's back, noting that she had not yet rebooted. ~Passed out,~ he noted, ~I love how new sockets do that when they overload. It is adorable. I'd better get my armor on before I totally glitch out. I don't want her to see that. She will at some point if she stays with us ... but not yet.~

~Agreed, not yet,~ Inferno gently removed Maggie from his spike and stood to wrap her in a cloth from the first aid kit before returning to help his bonded get his armor on and secured. ~She is a delicious, kinky, intoxicating one,~ he rumbled. ~A good enough match for me to court?~

~She is perfect, 'Ferno. Too perfect. I'll care _too_ much. Their lives are so short. Even if _nothing_ happens to her.~

He gathered up Inferno's armor and began helping bonded reattach the red plating, trying to touch as much protoform as he could along the way.

Inferno stopped him with a gentle hand under his chin to tip his face up for a chaste kiss. ~I know. But love, think with your logic center. She'll have many more vorns with us if we do claim her, and you know she'll continue to share with us either way. It will hurt, but we'll have that much more time with her.~

~Sometimes I wish I could look at them the some of the others do, to not _care_ so much," Red commented, lamenting his own deep care for the fragile creatures whose lives, even claimed, were far too short. "But you are right. You ... we should court her. It is far too wonderful to share one together, and it is good for my spark. Medical charges just aren't the same.~

~No they aren't,~ Inferno drew him into another kiss, this one of thanks, before they hurried to get his armor on for Red Alert's peace of processors before the human woke.

Sighing more then just contently, Maggie began to stir. The cool dampness practically soaking her legs caused her to cuddle into the warm blanket wrapped around her. With a yawn she opened her eyes and stretched, only to spy her bosses breaking away from a kiss to begin dressing one another, or more like re-affixing armor.

Unsure whether getting their attention now was such a good idea, she looked down at herself and balked at her sorry state. She was covered in her own sweat and fluids, and whatever mech fluids those two got on her. Finding she was having some difficulty standing, she settled for using the cloth to wipe herself off as best she could.

It was enough to catch Red Alert's attention, and he turned to shield Inferno's half-armored form as his bonded quickly finished reattaching his exo-structure.

"There is a bath and shower in your quarters," Inferno said. "I can take you there."

"She is too weak to be left unattended," Red Alert interrupted. "She should bathe in our quarters where we can ensure she remains healthy and consumes an appropriate fuel."

Finding Red's insistence far more charming then unnerving, Maggie found the strength to stand. Even if a bit wobbly from her pleasantly aching thighs. "That's fine by me. Though, considering your size I'll probably just need help turning to water on and off. Also, would you guys happen to have human soap in there?"

"We have acceptable cleansers for your biology, yes," Red Alert said awkwardly. "We will acquire something more to your liking if this happens again," he didn't hide the frightened hope from his voice. As high-strung as he was feeling, he still _wanted_ her, and wanted her often.

"Here," Inferno stepped up to her and offered both hands flat for her to climb on. "The water will be warm, soothing and cleansing," he promised with that low rumble she was already addicted to.

It was nearly impossible not to giggle at how cute Red Alert was acting. Especially after the way he dirty talked her into submission earlier. Graciously, she stepped onto Inferno's awaiting hands. "Lead the way," she said, practically glowing under his attention. A voice like that could very well lead her through a burning field with a smile on her face.

She was almost too comfortable around them. Red Alert's nervously sweet twitching and Inferno with his relaxing demeanor. It was so confusing to think she had only just met them both. Pushing the darker thoughts from her mind she settled into the metal digits surrounding her. Even still, she couldn't help but ask, "acceptable cleansers huh? So do you two do this often?" She decided to keep that 'this' broad. Even if she didn't like the answers at least there was the chance she could simply sit back and listen to him say more.

"Not in more vorns than I care to contemplate," Inferno admitted sadly as he cradled her to his warm chest and turned to walk out. "Some preparations are done on hope alone."

Red nervously followed his bonded and the young organic. He didn't even need to scan her deeply, his audio sensors alone could hear her heart and even the blood rushing through her veins. His optics could focus in on her skin at a cellular level, and had already spotted several pre-cancerous areas from her exposure to the radiation of earth's sun. Ratchet had already obviously dealt with the problematic mutations, but Red created an automatic subroutine to check on the spots on a daily basis nonetheless.

What a ridiculous planet, that its own star could cause cellular mutations on its inhabitants. Why hadn't they created some form of atmospheric shield from the harmful aspects of Sol's radiation? He sent a quick data packet to Perceptor with a tag asking him to look into the possibilities.

Despite the danger of Earth's star, Red noted that Maggie obviously did not spend enough time outdoors. He detected a distinct lack of vitamin D in her system, and made a note of that as well. The cellular damage must have taken place when she was a child. He searched the internet for a possible solution and ordered lights of the proper spectrum that she could turn on at her work station to produce the vitamin D that she needed. No need to have Wheeljack reinvent the wheel when there was a manner in which they could support the ridiculously fragile economy of this backwater world.

~I love you, Red,~ Inferno's amusement and approval of this level of paranoia clear in the thought. ~She'll have a good long life with us if she lets us keep her.~

If paranoia could keep an organic alive, Maggie could potentially live forever. 


	38. Sunny Side Up 10: Medical Snarls

**Writers:** femme4jack, gatekat LJ  
**Fandom:** Transformers Bayverse (POV'verse)  
**Pairing:** Sunstreaker/Sideswipe/Hgwa Ma-le, Ratchet/Mikaela Banes  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Codes:** Het, Slash, Xeno (Transformer/human), Twincest  
**Summary:** Ratchet learns that Sideswipe and Sunstreaker are as good at following orders as ever.  
**Notes:** Set in the Point of View fanverse at (community .livejournal .com/tf_matrix). All of our stories, lightly beta-ed are found at author name "gatekat". Fully beta-ed and edited (but not nearly as many posted) at "sockets" and eventually at Kat and Femme's archive .com/tf_socket_ficsFor a lovely, explicit fan-illustration of Ma-le & Jazz when Jazz was convincing her that all this would be a good idea, see http : / .com/ femme4jack/ pic/ 0000da64/ remove NOT WORK SAFE~text~ communication through bond (socket, sparkbond, twinbond, etc.)**"text"** Cybertronian (not understood by organics unless translated for them by a mech)"Text" Any organic language, translated into the hearer's native tongue via socket technology

* * *

****

Sunny Side Up 10: Medical Snarls

* * *

~What has your circuits in a knot this time?~ Mikaela asked with no small amount of humor, though she was actually curious. Between Shimmerfire's condition, Miles (even if he refused to talk details on that), the effort to get ready for the three bonded pairs that he knew would try (or were trying) for a sparkling and the general chaos of being the only fully trained medic for the ever-growing number of Cybertronians on base that was still below even field triage standards to him, Ratchet had been having what Mikaela liked to call 'moments'.

~_They're_ coming in with Ma-le,~ he grumbled, the flash of silver and gold mechs enough to say who 'they' were. ~Just because I know what's going to happen doesn't mean I like it.~

~You don't think they hurt her?~ Mikaela's mind went the first place she thought of when those two came up. She still couldn't get the image of what Sideswipe did to Sideways in Shanghai out of her mind after seeing the mission file from Bumblebee, who'd gotten it from who knows where.

~No, no,~ he reached down to pick her up and comfort her without active thought. ~But despite the warnings and orders, I'm sure they've claimed her and I'm just as sure she feels honored by it. As much as I grumble and hate the method, Jazz is very good at picking organics that will see mechs like them as Primus-sent.~

~Excuse me while I gag,~ Mikaela sarcastically replied, clear that her issue was not with Ma-le, but rather with a culture that would raise her that way and mechs who would desire such an attitude.

~But that is why I chose you, Mikaela. You are so very obedient and cater to my every whim,~ Ratchet chucked and then grunted in pain as tiny, trained hands squeezed just the right wire hard enough to show exactly what she thought of that comment.

**"Hey! Anybody in here?** Sunstreaker's growling bellow shattered any chance at conversation.

**"We're on time. Where are you?"** Sideswipe added much more cheerfully, almost smug.

Ratchet growled in response as he carried a still wickedly grinning Mikaela out of his office to see a scowling Sunstreaker standing next to his smirking twin, who was holding the lovely little female who, for lack of better words, reeked of their nanites and cheekily broadcast their energy signatures to anyone within range.

**"Fraggers,"** he growled dangerously, a finger transforming into a wrench, **"I could have you thrown in the brig right now."**

**"For what? She wanted it. _Begged_ for it!"** Sideswipe objected, taking a step back and turning to shield the young woman in his hands even as his brother moved forward to protect them more directly.

"What is he angry about, Mvkang?" Ma-le asked, her voice full of anxiety.

"That we didn't wait to claim you like Jazz told us too," Sideswipe answered with a grin. "And he's always grumpy like that about something."

**"Oh relax, both of you. You know I wouldn't do anything to harm her. But you two are worse about this than Mirage on his very worst day. You _know_ that failing to follow proper protocols with a claim can lead to the brig time or worse. You want me to call Prowl, or better yet Prime in to discuss the matter with you? You've both done this enough times to know better. She at least deserved the chance to get to know you for a couple of weeks, so she could make up her own mind. You were supposed to explain claiming to her, and let her decide, not share her senseless and then claim her when she begged for it."**

He watched the pair wilt and share a look that spoke of a silent debate of whether or not to bolt until things had calmed down.

"You know there's nowhere to run on this island," Mikaela pointed out as she crossed her arms and glared at them, no more afraid of them than she was of Ratchet when it came right down to it. "It's not enough that she doesn't _think_ she has a choice, but you have to go and prove it like this?"

"Ma-le," Ratchet addressed the girl directly in a far gentler, soothing voice, speaking her own language despite the fact her socket would have translated for her, "You have done nothing wrong and have nothing to be concerned about. Your mechs did not ... follow the appropriate traditions of our people regarding your marriage and are in trouble with their elders for failing to perform the proper rituals. I would like for Mikaela to explain those rituals to you while I discuss with your husbands the appropriate punishment for their misdeeds."

"It was never my wish to shame Kuhn Jazz," she said with what almost sounded like a sob. "Does this mean that I am not married to them?" she asked with a shaky voice, clearly worried and suddenly miserable.

"Not at all," Ratchet gave an assuring smile, "Jazz will not be surprised or all that upset, but there are certain rituals we must attend to before our people will recognize that the marriage has taken place."

"It'll be okay," Mikaela said gently, her temper gone in the face of the other woman's distress. "You'll get used to having them in trouble for something," she smiled, trying to lighten the mood a bit. "It's not your fault."

Sideswipe very reluctantly allowed Ratchet to take Ma-le and carry her and Mikaela to his office.

Ratchet emerged from the office, his face glowering and his optics flashing dangerously. **"Explain yourselves, and don't you _dare_ say she was begging for it."**

**"Um,"** Sideswipe stammered, sliding backwards on his wheels uneasily. **"Young and impulsive?"** He offered.

**"Jazz got her for us,"** Sunstreaker pointed out with a nearly matching growl for the medic. **"When has he _ever_ chosen wrong?"**

**"Jazz picks well, I will give him that, as disgusted as I am by the reason he has to go the lengths he does in the first place. But you are mistaken if you believe that his choosing her with you in mind gave you _any_ right to disregard claiming rules."**

Ratchet crossed his arms in a human gesture he had picked up from Mikaela.

**"Brig time is out of the question. Shimmerfire does not need that stress and it is unfair to Ma-le. I suppose I will need to contact Prowl for an appropriate punishment, unless the two would like to suggest something better than even Prowl would come up with."**

The twins glanced at each other, exchanging ideas before Sideswipe shook his head. **"Prowl's call."**

Ratchet commed Prowl with a low priority tag that would not bring him out of recharge. ::Do you have a moment? You won't have to leave your berth where I hope you are with a young socket who deserves some safe, uninterrupted sleep.::

::I am being quite still with Miles sleeping deeply on my chassis,:: Prowl responded calmly. ::What do you need?::

::To no one's surprise, the Twins claimed Ma-le last night,:: Ratchet explained. ::They're letting you choose the punishment. I recommend against brig time, it is too stressful for Shimmerfire in her condition and unfair to Ma-le.::

::I understand,:: Prowl said, then paused as he considered the options. ::Three months of hard labor under Grapple in addition to their regular shifts.::

::Agreed. I will inform Grapple and the twins. And I still intend for her to have an opportunity to make a final decision in two weeks time.::

::And Ratchet,:: Prowl continued, ::according to my records, you also claimed your socket the first time you shared with her, and I cannot find the proper documentation of prior consent to the claim. I will contact Grapple to arrange your hard labor as well.::

Ratchet's mouth opened in shock as the twins looked on. Was it _possible_ that Prowl was joking with him?

::Ha!:: he barked out an indignant laugh aloud and on the comm. ::Completely different. I didn't claim Mikaela, she claimed me, and I've already been sentenced to hard labor for the remainder of her lifetime. But if you'd like to assign me a sentence to give me a rest from my dangerous female, then I will gladly let you explain it to her.::

::If she is so dangerous, perhaps I should have her design your punishment,:: Prowl said calmly even as he opened a second comm line to the young woman.

::Yes?:: Mikaela responded, sounding surprised, even as Ratchet spluttered indignantly in front of two increasingly amused bladewarriors.

::Since Ratchet wishes me to punish Sunstreaker and Sideswipe for claiming Ma-le during their first sharing, with limited understand and without filing the forms first, it is fitting he faces a similar punishment for doing the same to you,:: the TIC's voice held the faintest trace of amusement. ::Given the different extenuating circumstances, I thought that you should design a punishment comparable to three months of extra shifts working for Grapple building base facilities.::

Mikaela gave a delightedly dangerous laugh, immediately sending several images of potential punishments though the bond that made Ratchet's cooling fans kick in. He was suddenly _very_ anxious to be alone with the socket who knew more about Cybertronian systems than any organic on base.

::Prowl,:: the brunette purred over the comm. ::Do I need to give you details of the proposed punishment, or just report to you when I feel that he has adequately fulfilled my requirements?::

There was a brief pause, and Prowl's voice contained more than just amusement when he responded. ::I believe I wish to know the details. One never knows when they might be useful against another miscreant I must be creative in punishing.::

::Well,:: Mikaela began, thoughtfully, ::our CMO has recently taught me how to fully immobilize an uncooperative patient. Perhaps I should practice that skill on him, putting him in _just_ the position to endure his punishment for taking advantage of my innocence. A set of stasis cuffs would be a nice addition, as well. I would _not_ allow him to plug in, and bring him just to the brink of overload, perhaps six of seven times, before climbing on his chest and pleasuring myself as much as I feel is necessary. I think having his vocal processors offline would be appropriate, too, don't you think? How many of these punishments do you suppose he needs to make my point?::

Ratchet gave the twins a deadly glare when they began laughing as the CMO's second set of fans kicked in, while a low, rumbling _growl_ echoed across the comm as Prowl processed her idea.

::I believe five times in the next three months is suitable, unless you deem that he has not learned his lesson,:: Prowl said, not hiding that it was giving him some very _interesting_ ideas. ::I will drop off a pair of cuffs for you after Miles wakes up.::

::Thank you, Prowl,:: she sweetly replied. ::And if Miles needs any training in assisting you in the punishment of your miscreant, or you ever would like my direct assistance, I'm sure it could be arranged.::

Ratchet nearly fell on his aft, heaving through his intakes at that statement. Mikaela had not shown the least interest in sharing with others. His spark lunged in its casing at the idea, and suddenly he desired nothing more than to empty med bay and share her senseless for the rest of the day ... make her _beg_ to be claimed again.

Even though they didn't know what was going on across the comm channels, the Terror Twins were grinning like maniacs and trading ideas of their own of what could be going on. Sideswipe was sure of only one thing: Prowl had called Ratchet out on something, probably on claiming his socket, and the CMO's socket was now involved in a _very_ interesting conversation.

::If you can get Ratchet to agree, I believe your assistance would be _most_ welcome,:: Prowl's rumble got even deeper. ::I do like how your mind works.::

::Oh, I'm _sure_ I could get him to agree, Prowl,:: her low, sexy voice responded. ::And I will be sure to give you detailed reports on the CMO's punishment over the next three months. I may need assistance in deciding if he has been adequately subdued.::

::Thank you,:: Prowl's voice actually shivered faintly. ::I look forward to your reports, and your assistance.::

_Primus help me, I've claimed a dominatrix,_ Ratchet thought as he attempted to regain his composure.

::If that will be all, Prowl, I'll deal with the Twins of Terror,:: Ratchet grumbled.

::Of course,:: Prowl managed to get his voice almost back to normal. ::Mikaela will deal with you.::

**"So just what _is_ your punishment?"** Sideswipe asked eagerly.

**"One that is sure to be much more enjoyable than yours. You two are lucky I talked Prowl down. He was inclined to have me remove your spikes and valves for one earth year, but I did not feel that was fair to Shimmerfire or Ma-le, so we agreed on three months of hard labor under Grapple, in addition to your normal shifts."**

**"You mean you don't want to put Prowl's sensor-wings back on when Shimmer found out and ripped him apart,"** Sunstreaker snorted.

**"Three months?"** Sideswipe scowled. **"How's that fair? She still _wants_ to be claimed!"**

Ratchet suppressed a grin. **"Take it up with Prowl, then. I have my own punishment to deal with. Now, before I speak with Ma-le,"** _and get all three of you the hell out of my medbay_ he added mentally, **"can I trust you to make sure she _properly_ consents before sharing with Shimmerfire? Or do I need to have that conversation with your socket myself? You are still responsible for providing her with full disclosure and the opportunity to consent or decline. Just because she believes she must comply with your every wish does not give you _any_ excuse to take advantage of that, and I will have Mikaela check with her on a regular basis to makes sure you are doing just that. And I'd better not need remind you to teach that young Seeker how to shield."**

Ratchet lifted his wrench to show just how seriously he took the issue.

**"We will, all of it."** Sunstreaker grumbled, crossing his arms across his broad but streamlined chassis and glaring right back.

**"Getting Shimmer to consent to sharing will be the trick,"** Sideswipe huffed. **"But we'll manage that too, for the sparklings."**

* * *

Ma-le watched Mikaela in confusion as the western girl suddenly stopped their conversation and seemed to be responding so someone else who wasn't even in the room.

"I was just comm-ed by Prowl," the woman whispered.

_Prowl is the third in command and senior tactician for the Autobots. He is bonded to Jazz._ the translation program that connected directly to her socket explained even as Mikaela gave the kind of laugh she had never heard from a woman before.

"Prowl," Mikaela continued in a voice that did not sound appropriate for a wife to be using with anyone other than her husband, "Do I need to give you details of the proposed punishment, or just report to you when I feel that he has adequately fulfilled my requirements?"

Punishment, for who? For one of her husbands? Why would she be speaking with Jazz's swawmx mate about punishment? The Lisu girl watched wide-eyed, with no small amount of worry as Mikaela continued.

"Well, our CMO has recently taught me how to fully immobilize an uncooperative patient. Perhaps I should practice that skill on him, putting him in the position to endure his punishment for taking advantage of my innocence. A set of stasis cuffs would be a nice addition, as well. I would not allow him to plug in, and bring him just to the brink of overload, perhaps six of seven times, before climbing on his chest and pleasuring myself as much as I feel is necessary. I think having his vocal processors offline would be appropriate, too, don't you think? How many of these punishments do you suppose he needs to make my point?"

_CMO stands for Chief Medical Officer. The chief medical officer for the Autobots is Ratchet. Stasis cuffs are used to immobilize the hands and feet of a Cybertronian, usually when being detained. Overload is the equivalent of a sexual climax for a Cybertronian, involving the buildup and pleasurable release of static charge, usually accomplished by stimulation of the spike, valve, or other sensor covered surfaces. Vocal processors are what allow a Cybertronian to produce sounds for the purpose of auditory communication in any organic or Cybertronian dialect._

Ma-le put her hand over her mouth in shock, looking over her shoulder toward the door, wondering when one of her husbands would rescue her from the she demon she was locked up with. Mikaela obviously was _not_ a human. She had to be one of the spirits, in a human form. An evil one. Likely a Bae-ch'u-mah, a female evil spirit with big breasts and sharp teeth who ate the flesh of human beings. Perhaps she needed to warn Ratchet of just whom he had married, and she certainly needed to warn both of her husbands to flee from whatever punishment Mikaela was planning for one of them.

"Thank you, Prowl," the evil spirit in front of Ma-le continued, in a sweet sounding voice, "And if Miles needs any training in assisting you in the punishment of your miscreant, or you ever would like my direct assistance, I'm sure it could be arranged."

Miles! Jazz's human husband. Now he was in danger from this demon as well. Wasn't it obvious to Prowl that she was dangerous? Jazz might need a warning as well. It seemed that his mate was somehow in league with the demon, who paused for a moment, then grinned maniacally, saying in a husky voice of a Bae-ch'u-mah, "Oh, I'm sure I could get him to agree, Prowl, and I will be sure to give you detailed reports on the CMO's punishment over the next 3 months. I may need assistance in deciding if he has been adequately subdued."

Ma-le carefully looked around, wondering how she would escape to warn them, feeling suddenly fiercely protective of her husbands, Jazz, Ratchet, and even Miles and Prowl whom she had never met. Bae-ch'u-mah usually were not dangerous to women...but to men...and perhaps to male gods...

"What's wrong, sweetie?" Mikaela focused on her companion as the comm link shut down. She reached out to try to offer comfort from whatever was frightening her. ~Ratchet, are the Twins injured? Ma-le is quietly freaking out on me.~

Ma-le moved quickly away from her, scooting as close to the edge of the large desk as she could. It was a long way down, but perhaps she could make a jump for it.

~Dearest, were you silent on the comm, or were you speaking out loud?~ Ratchet asked after a moment in a bemused voice.

~Oh,~ she winced at the realization, then scowled before schooling her expression to a friendly one. ~No, but she knew I was talking to Prowl.~

"What's wrong, Ma-le?" she asked the other young woman gently.

"Why are you going to punish my one of my husbands?" the girl finally asked quietly from across the desk, seeing no escape. "They have done nothing wrong, and have been nothing but patient and kind with me. I cannot imagine what they might have done with your innocence, but should it not be your husband's place to speak with them?" Ma-le spoke very calmly and respectfully, hoping not to invite any backlash from the Bae-ch'u-mah.

Mikaela blinked, then smiled gently. "I'm not punishing _your_ husbands. I was discussing punishing _my_ husband. He broke the same rule that yours did, so Prowl thought it suitable that Ratchet be punished, since he wants them punished for it. What they both did was claim during the first sharing without doing all the paperwork and such first."

Ma-le stared at Mikaela for what felt like a very long time, blinking several times before finally asking in a completely serious voice. "Does your husband _know_ he is married to a demon?"

"_Everybody_ does," Mikaela laughed easily. "They knew what I was the day they met me."

Ma-le felt a huge sense of relief at that news. If everyone already knew about the she-demon sitting with her, then she was unlikely to pose a danger to the humans or swawmx. And who was to say that her people might not have been mistaken about Bae-ch'u-mah? They certainly had been mistaken about plenty of other things regarding the spirits and gods.

She smiled at Mikaela. "I'm glad to hear that. Now I don't need to warn him about you. So your husband also claimed you the first time you shared your myi with him? I was honored that mine were pleased enough with me to do so, but I understand that the ways of their elders must be respected. Your ... punishment for your husband sounds quite strange. Am I going to be required to do the same to mine?"

"Only if you want to," she giggled. "Their punishment is three months worth of extra shifts helping build the base up for all the new arrivals. Normally it'd be a week or two in the brig, but that's more punishment for you than them right now. And I don't think anyone wants to find out what Shimmerfire would do about it."

Ma-le blushed, and then began to giggle at the impossible image that brought to her mind. "I cannot imagine doing that to my husbands, Kuhn Mikaela, even for all the poppies of the Burmese hills. But...I do not want them to have to do extra shifts. That will mean I have even less time to polish and share with them. If it is the only other choice, and they allow it, I will have to come to you to teach me how."

Mikaela blinked. "Don't you dare let them push you into doing extra work because they messed up. This is to punish _them_, not you. Besides, what I'm going to do to Ratchet only works if you really enjoy it."

"I ... I've never even imagined such a thing. But I would do anything to please them. And I enjoy polishing Arun Shwe's golden armor. I haven't had a chance to polish Mvkang yet, but I'm sure I will enjoy that just as much. Their armor is so beautiful, and I love to touch them. When I polished Arun Shwe for the first time yesterday, I felt so much desire for him. And later, when I polished him again, he shared with me immediately after."

Ma-le paused for a moment with a dreamy look before returning her attention to Mikaela to ask a question that had been confusing her. "Kuhn Mikaela, who exactly is Shimmerfire?"

"Our newest Seeker, only just an adult. She's carrying...pregnant right now by Sunny and Sides."

_A Seeker is a Cybertronian flyer designed for highly maneuverable close aerial combat with coding, frame, language, culture, and reproduction unique to their build._ the helpful, monotone voice in her head explained.

"My husbands are going to be fathers? They have a goddess-wife? It isn't that I mind being a second wife, but I had no idea. Kuhn Jazz never spoke of it. I hope she approves of me; being a second wife can be horrible if the first is unhappy about it. My mother's sister is a second wife to one of the village shaman, and his first wife makes her life misery." Ma-le suddenly looked miserable.

"Not a wife, not like you are at least," Mikaela said, scrambling to explain something she had a questionable understanding of. "They're more like lovers. She wanted seekerlings...children and they were agreeable to it. But even if they were bonded, it's a completely different relationship to a socket." She stopped to think again. ~Ratchet, how the hell do I explain Shimmerfire's relationship to her? She thinks she's a second wife!~

~Just tell her that Shimmerfire chose her husbands to be the fathers of her young, along with Jazz and another Seeker, but that her husbands have special favor with her and will live with her to help her carry and then care for her young, but that she is not a wife. I don't even want to think about what Shimmerfire might say or do if Ma-le used that term with her. Mate would be what she's using.~

Mikaela took a breath and settled herself, accessed a few more files from the database and settled in to explain. "Okay. She's their mate, not their wife. She'll likely react badly to being called a wife. She's a warrior like they are, even if she's pregnant and favors them among the four fathers she chose for her kids. You are their socket. You _give_ them life." She paused again and settled herself again. "You know how you won Sunny over with praise and polishing? Seekers are very vain creatures, and she's a young one. Just look at winning her over the way you did Sunshine and you'll do fine."

Ma-le took it in, adapting quickly to the unusual ideas as being the strange ways of the gods. "Most of the gods are vain, Mikaela, just like most men. That is why we give them so many offerings. If they do not feel appreciated, they become like petulant children. That is why it is so important to please them. Women understand this, and can patiently give them the praise and attention they need so that they will, in turn, do what we wish when the time comes. It isn't a difficult thing for me. The smallest trickle of water changes a landscape far more effectively than fire."

Mikaela grinned at her. "You know how to deal with all three of them then. Definitely petulant children if ignored," she snickered. "Oh, and you'll have sixty or seventy years before Shimmerfire gives birth, so you'll have plenty of time to get used to her before she gets in a really fowl mood towards the end. Apparently when a Seeker can't fly well, they get really unpleasant to be around."

Ma-le shook her head. "My own mother was nearly intolerable during the last months of her pregnancies with my brother and each of my sisters. I pity my husbands having to deal with that from a goddess for so many years. It is the only time in my village where the men are more worried about pleasing their wives."

Mikaela snickered. "Sometimes, it's good to be the woman."

They both looked towards the door when it opened for Ratchet, who gave Ma-le another scan before offering her his hand to climb up on. "Time to go back to your husbands. They want all the time they can get with you before the double shifts start."

"Must they really do double shifts, Kuhn Ratchet?" she asked mournfully. "I truly did desire to be claimed, and if I must give them the same punishment your wife will be giving you, then I will do it for their sakes." Ma-le's looked positively stricken about the extra shifts.

Ratchet choked down a laugh at that image in his processors. "Trust me, Ma-le, you will come to appreciate having some time to yourself to pursue your own interests. They will likely have your agenda quite full between their needs and those of Shimmerfire and her young. Find a new hobby or enjoy an old one, do some reading, you can even sign up for classes online or on base. Get out and get to know the other humans on base. The possibilities are endless, and you have complete freedom over those choices."

"I'll see about wrangling some of the other women into showing you around and socializing," Mikaela offered from the desk. "I'm sure Sarah is willing, and Alicia too. I know she'll appreciate the distraction right now."

Ma-le smiled shyly. "Thank you, though I don't wish to do anything that would make them unhappy." The Lisu girl was honestly amazed by just how kind the demon woman was.

Ratchet carried her to the main portion of the medbay, where the Twins eagerly awaited her. But instead of depositing her in one of their hands, he put her down on a berth.

"Before you go, I thought I'd give you a chance to explain to Ma-le exactly what claiming is and what it does to her body, since you neglected that when you decided not to keep your nanites under control," he glared at the pair. ::And _comment_ on how you'd like her to have some form of social life outside your quarters.::

::She seriously doesn't think she can leave?:: Sideswipe cycled his optics in surprise.

::Apparently,:: Ratchet said dryly.

Sideswipe rolled over, Sunstreaker not far behind.

"Claiming makes your energy resonate with ours, making sharing more efficient and making it obvious to all other mechs that you are ours," Sunstreaker spoke first.

"It also changes you, so you'll live a long time, over a thousand years, and be young and strong for all of it," Sideswipe added. "You know you can do whatever you want when we're on duty, right?"

Ma-le smiled brightly at Mvkang's assurance that she was free to pursue interests other than cleaning the gigantic quarters, though she was not sure how she could keep the place clean without spending most of her free time there. It was easily as large as her village.

"They also should have told you," Ratchet gave them a glare, "that you are under no obligation to stay, even after you are claimed. If at any point you do not wish to stay with them, you are free to leave, and you will still have a home on base and all of the advantages that come with being a socket. The stipend going to your family will not be affected by such a decision in any way, and all of the health and life-span benefits that come with a claim will still be yours."

"Hey, I was getting to that!" Sideswipe snapped.

Ma-le's mouth opened in outrage, her shock finally overcoming her shyness. "Kuhn Ratchet! Women from my village do not just leave their husbands! The only time they would do such a thing is if they or their children were being physically harmed. In that case, the elders of the village would intervene and they would be taken in by another man. But Mvkang and Arun Shwe are honorable!"

"We are," Sunstreaker growled. "We've _never_ done wrong by a socket, even if _you_ don't like our preferences. I dare you to name a time we didn't take very good care of one."

Ma-le sat tall on the berth, looking at her husbands with pride.

"Ma-le, I'm not implying that your husbands are lacking in honor, or that you are. But our people have different rules and traditions than your village, and it is important that you know them. Freedom of choice for our sockets, at all times, is one of the most fundamental rules of our people."

Ratchet calmly raised an optic ridge. **"Do I really have to remind you about the Nebulan you claimed your first time around? T'Lena was her name, right? Your preferences are not the issue here. I had the same conversation with Bee and Sam after he was prematurely claimed, and those two might as well be sparkbonded. I'm saying nothing more to Ma-le than I do to every socket I examine after their first sharing, so cool your components, Sunstreaker."**

The Twins flinched slightly at the reminder of the injuries they had inflicted. Entirely by accident or not, they had hurt her. They'd learned well though, and no socket under their care had been hurt since.

Sideswipe drew in a deep breath of air into his systems and 'puffed' his armor out in an unconscious effort to look more intimidating and desirable. "You aren't under obligation to stay with us, your culture and our desires aside," he said quietly. "Ratchet did just give options. Three months will pass quickly and we'll be back to normal shifts. By then, everyone _should_ be ready to accept your decision."

"But you don't have to do three months, Mvkang. There is another punishment that Mikaela is giving to her husband for breaking the same rules," she said with sweet innocence that was not quite as convincing as it normally was. There was a hint of a wicked glint in her eyes, directed toward the CMO.

The pair looked each other, at Ratchet and back at each other.

"Umm, I think we'll do the time," Sideswipe said nervously.

"Now wait a minute," Sunstreaker stopped him. "Just what punishment is this?"

~Bro, the girl is a _demon_ that scares _Ratchet_ into obeying.~

~So?~ Sunstreaker demanded. ~It has to be better than ruining my finish for three months.~

Ratchet harrumphed and gave Ma-le an irritated look. "That particular punishment is not available to your husbands, Ma-le. Their punishment was assigned to them by Prowl, and only he can change it."

It was at that moment that Mikaela came sauntering out of the office, where, by the look on her face, she had heard every word of the conversation.

"I think it is time to send these three back to their quarters, Ratchet. They did, after all, just claim their socket and you know what that means. And we do have your own punishment to get started with. First Aid has agreed to attend to any issues that may come up today, and said for me to tell you that he is willing to, quote, 'take extra shifts as many times as it takes to get my point across.'"

Ratchet glared daggers at his socket as his cooling fans all kicked backed in.

"Get out of my med bay," he said to the Twins with a growl that sounded suspiciously more like a whimper.

The pair snickered. Sideswipe reached out to pick up Ma-le, cradling her against his chassis as they skated out and towards their quarters.

"What she meant was that for the first couple weeks after claiming, we won't be able to get enough of you," Sideswipe purred. "We'll be excused from our regular shifts, and maybe the punishment shifts, until it settles down."

Ma-le hair enjoyed the feel of the wind against her face as Mvkang skated toward their home just behind Arun Shwe's beautiful form. His description of what was coming sent an instant spike of desire through her center. She certainly could not get enough of them, either, but first, she needed to make sure they knew about the potential threat of a Bae-ch'u-mah.

"I am yours as many times as pleases you, my husbands," she practically purred as they arrived and the two retracted their wheels and made quick work of the stairs, a smooth, teasing cable already starting to pull at her clothing, making her giggle. "But may I ask you a question first?"

"Sure," Sideswipe agreed readily as Sunstreaker unlocked the door to the huge, spacious, airy quarters designed with their Seeker resident in mind.

"Did you _know_ that Kuhn Ratchet's wife is a demon? She admitted it to me when I asked her. You must never allow your holoforms to get anywhere close to her. I think she is a Bae-ch'u-mah - they are fierce demons with huge breasts and teeth, and they eat the flesh from men. She said that everyone knew, but I wanted to make sure."

Sunstreaker turned on one wheel and looked at her, cycling his optics a couple times. Sideswipe chuckled.

"She's harmless, even if she is a demon," Sideswipe assured her. "That's just an American-raised female. Some mechs like their sockets feisty and dominant. Both are entirely too common here."

"Feisty and dominant are two words never used to describe a good Lisu wife, only one who has become a Phi-pheu witch," she commented, feeling embarrassed that she hadn't known that all American-raised females were demons.

"The punishment Mikaela described to Kuhn Prowl was only something a demon could come up with," she explained, "even if she seems to think he will enjoy it. As much as I'd rather you not have extra shifts for three months, I think your punishment is far safer."

The twins exchanged a glance as they rolled for the berth.

"Just what is his punishment?" Sideswipe asked with a rumbling purr of real curiosity.

Ma-le blushed furiously. For all that she had brought it up in Medbay, that was to shame Ratchet for questioning her husbands' honor and seeking to punish them for something he himself had done. Elders were supposed to lead by example.

"It ... it's very difficult for me to say it. She was speaking with Kuhn Prowl, even though he wasn't in the room. At first I thought the punishment she was describing was for one of you. But it was for Kuhn Ratchet. She said that she would do something to him so that he could not move or speak, and also use some sort of binding for his hands that she needed to borrow from Kuhn Prowl."

She swallowed, took a deep breath and went on, sharing the description with a strange feeling of desire that surprised her. "Then she ... she said she would refuse to share her myi with him through the cable, and that she would bring him close to his release, 6-8 times, but not allow it to become complete. Then she said she would climb onto his chest and give herself pleasure as many times as she wanted to. Only a demon could come up with such a thing. I was horrified that I might have to do the same to both of you. It already sounds as though Kuhn Prowl is going to have her teach Miles how to inflict such punishment, or have her inflict it on someone else Prowl feels is in need of discipline."

Ma-le's face was bright red and her heart felt like it was beating twice as fast as usual.

"Ooo, Jazz'll _love_ that," Sideswipe rumbled. "She's an evil little dominatrix. Perfect for Ratchet."

"_We_ like your manner," Sunstreaker added, rolling onto the berth sized for a large Seeker and both frontliners and making space. "We may play rough with each other, but you're perfect the way you are."

She gave them both her sweetest smile, basking in the praise, relieved to no end that they would not ask her to do something so completely against her nature and upbringing, even if the smallest part of her would not mind watching the demon do so to someone _other_ than her own husbands, especially if it were Kuhn Jazz.

"I would do _anything_ to please both of you, but I grateful that you have different tastes than Kuhn Ratchet," she said with a mischievous grin, slipping off the rest of her clothing that Mvkang had not already removed and lifting up her hair for a much desired cable.


	39. HP 19: Comfort Where you Find it

**Writers: **gatekat and femme4jack on LJ  
**Fandom: **Transformers Bayverse (SoG'verse of POV'verse)  
**Pairing: **Jazz/Prowl/Miles Lancaster  
**Rating: **NC-17 for holo/male, mech/male  
**Codes: **Slash, Xeno (Transformer/Human), Sticky  
**Summary: **Miles is finally welcomed home liked he wanted in the first place.  
**Notes:** Written in the Dathanna de Gray fanverse (community .livejournal .com/ tf_socket_fics)  
"text" organic language  
**"text"** translated Cybertronian.  
~text~ bond/cable talk  
::comm chatter:

* * *

****

Hunting Pleasure 19: Comfort Where You Find It

* * *

Prowl lay on his berth, keeping a passive watch on both his bonded and socket. Jazz was still on the beach, though his mood had improved significantly over the joor. Miles was still curled on his chest, cradled inside one arm. He'd woken the human twice and endured the grumbling and half-coherent state to ensure Miles ate and drank enough to recover well, but otherwise he'd allowed him to rest.

It still amazed the tactician to no end that when a socket or Jazz needed him, thoughts of the work he could be getting done, or that needed to be done, never crossed his processors. So he'd never felt anything wrong about laying still for the past sixteen hours while Miles caught up on his sleep. Not even because it meant leaving Jazz on his own. Sometime his bonded needed time alone, or with his own team, to sort himself out and recover from a trauma.

~Hey babe, how's he doing?~ Jazz brushed affectionately against his spark. He didn't hide the lingering need or anger, but it also shown through that he was feeling much better, much more balanced, and there was an intense new affection for Major Lennox.

~Much better,~ Prowl brushed affectionately back. ~He is finally resting, rather than recovering.~

~Good,~ Jazz's desire-need to reaffirm their spark-bond and the claim on Miles growing sharply as he drove onto base.

~I am certainly ready to indulge you,~ Prowl didn't hide his eagerness to have a spark merge that was for pleasure rather than full of pain, hate and grief.

Miles' mind woke up before his body. He couldn't move a muscle or even open his eyes. A sign of a long, healing sleep. He slowly became aware of being held by Prowl, which made him smile inside. The black, white and red mech had never gone to his office.

~You make a nice pillow. How is it that you are so comfortable?~

~Experience and modifications to make organics comfortable,~ Prowl smiled and brushed against his mind gently. ~Jazz is on his way back.~

~Well I like your pillow modifications. I'll be your lap kitten whenever you want one. How's Jazz doing?~

~Better,~ he sounded relieved. ~I believe he had a conversation with Major Lennox that helped him put things in perspective, or something. He is in the mood for reconnecting with both of us, though. Physically.~

Miles felt an instant tightening at his crotch at that news. ~So am I, apparently. Or at least the 'little dude' is.~

~You know we did promise you holoform attention,~ Prowl said, openly suggestive. ~Or would you prefer mech attention?~

Miles finally opened his eyes and grinned wickedly at the mech looking down at him. "Yeah, all those plans we had for Costa Rica, I think I'd like to take you up on that."

"Jazz is grinning," Prowl chuckled softly, causing his chest to vibrate pleasantly under Miles. "Asking if you have any requests."

"Not sure. Never been with two men before. Two mechs ... that's a different story. But something involving a Miles sandwich comes to mind." Miles' wicked grin started to border on cheesy-excited. "Honestly, anything that feels good, consensual, and doesn't involve a Seeker giving orders would be awesome at this point. Though I could see something kinky about taking Seeker orders under a different circumstance."

The door to the outer room opened. "Not anytime soon," Jazz called in to them. "Your ass is _mine_ for a while."

"I believe a Miles sandwich can be arranged, several ways," Prowl rumbled, finally allowing the desires of their early claiming phase to bubble to the surface of his awareness again.

Miles leaned into the arousal through the infant bond and mentally purred. ~And I want _you_ to top me, Prowl~

The black and white mech shuddered in a flair of desire at the words just in time for Jazz to walk in, his visor glowing a bit too bright. Miles caught the flash from Prowl that it was a look that customarily lead to the saboteur jumping his bonded. With Miles sprawled across Prowl's chest it wasn't going to happen though.

"So what's your preference for me?" Jazz rumbled as he leaned on the berth with one hand and reached out to stroke Miles with the other. "In your mouth, in my mouth, in my ass, by hand so I can kiss you, or him?"

Miles face lit up in a bright smile, shivering at the touch. "Baby, I want to suck you off while you do the same to me."

"Sounds very good," Jazz purred and leaned over to claim a deep, heated kiss from his bonded as he connected his cable to the one already linked to Miles. A bit of shifting and the silver mech was snuggled against Prowl's side, lightly caressing his bonded but carefully mindful of the intensity of the emotions allowed to pass to their socket.

Prowl helped Miles down to the berth as two holoforms, one tall, of medium build and blond, the other shorter, willowy and tan, reached out to draw Miles between them with kisses and eager but restrained hands. Prowl's holoform pressed against his back, letting Miles feel his hard arousal and explored his socket's body with strong, sure, methodical hands. Jazz pressed against his chest, rocking his hips to rub their erections together as his hands worked down Miles chest and his tongue explored the human's mouth.

~Missed you,~ Jazz pressed against Miles' awareness, letting him feel some of the chaotic jumble of emotions from those frantic three days. ~Should have never let anyone hurt you.~

~I'm sorry I was so mad,~ Miles added mentally, almost talking over Jazz's own thoughts. He was so relieved to see Jazz that he couldn't stop beaming inwardly. ~I told off Optimus for us.~

~You didn't!~ Jazz laughed brightly as both mech and human, too amused to do anything else for a moment.

~I did.~ Miles smirked, running his fingers through dark hair and pulling him in for a passionate kiss. ~Big dude fucked up my homecoming. Had it coming.~ Miles gave Jazz a mental nudge to take a look at the memory of the small human's rant while he stood on Ratchet's desk. ~_This_ is what I needed to come home to.~ Miles rocked his hips to push his ass against Prowl's hot cock, and then wrapped a leg around the in front of him to pull Jazz in even tighter.

His lovers both shuddered and eagerly responded to their socket's demands. Jazz broke the kiss and knelt, kissing his way down Miles' body while Prowl pressed a slick finger gently into Miles' ass to begin stretching him.

Miles closed his eyes and relished the attention, gasping as Jazz gently bit on his nipple before continuing down, and loving the feel of Prowl's strong holoform body rubbing against him as he gently prepared Miles for what he _so_ very much wanted. ~I'm so fucking lucky you dudes wanted me,~ he confessed. All that had happened before and after he'd returned had left his feelings precariously vulnerable at the thought of _not_ being connected with the bonded pair any longer.

~You have us, Miles,~ they responded in near-unison, the desire, affection and what Miles identified as love flowing freely from them both. ~We'll never leave you as long as you want us.~

Miles moaned aloud at the combination of the sweet indulgence from holoform bodies and the emotions flowing through the connection. A greedy mouth suckled on the sensitive spot just below his hipbone and a second slick finger joined the first. A corner of his mind noted that he had given himself so fully over to the two, so fully belonged to them that there was simply nothing they could ask of him that he wouldn't freely wish to give. He reveled in the claim, the sweet sense of belonging, of being fully wanted, needed, and treasured for the life that was in him.

~Always,~ Jazz brushed affectionately against his mind as his lips found the tip of Miles' hard cock and kissed the spongy head. ~That feeling is what it means to be a bondmate.~

Prowl hummed in agreement and kissed Miles' neck. The hand that wasn't stretching him exploring his body, tweaking a nipple before brushing down his chest and abs with splayed fingers.

"God yes," Miles whispered. The bondmates became relentless in their timing. Jazz grasped Miles' cock near its base and slid his retracted foreskin up and down the sensitive shaft while licking the slit, sending jolts of pleasure straight up his cock and spine just as fingers pushed in from behind at the same pace. Now that he knew what to look for, he could see them carefully shielding him from the hunger of sparks that for a human was far too intense, allowing only the sweetness of the desire to flood him rather than anything that would make him fear.

Miles turned his head and gave Prowl a greedy kiss. ~Take me.~ his mind begged.

Jazz shifted them so he and Miles were laying opposite each other and promptly took Miles' cock all the way down to the base so his throat could massage it.

~Anything you desire,~ Prowl shuddered in his own building desire as he followed them down. Miles barely had time to moan the loss off contact when Prowl withdrew his fingers before pressing the tip of his cock against the tight ring of muscle and gently but steadily pressed forward. Despite the intense pleasure, Miles could feel Prowl paying very close attention to how much it hurt and if the damage from his captivity was causing any difficulties.

Miles gave a low groan as the tactician slowly slipped inside him. He turned any attention he had left over from the blast of physical and shared sensations to licking, kissing and suckling on Jazz's perfect holoform cock, wrapping his hand around its length, flicking his tongue against the slit, and breathing in the erotic scent. The addition of yet another hot pleasure made him aware that Prowl's base form was making up for Miles' splendid distraction by taking his bondmate's spike with his hand.

All of it made Jazz moan around the cock in his mouth and redouble his efforts to drive Miles to complete distraction with his throat, tongue and the slick pleasure of sucking his way up and down the hard cock. He reached forward to fondle Miles' balls with one hand and Prowl's with the other.

Miles gasped and attempted to take Jazz's cock in his mouth, only managing to suck on the end when he was taken by surprise by Prowl who suddenly thrust in hard, hitting that spot deep inside. Miles threw his head back and nearly sobbed his release as his seed burst into the mouth that was incomparable whether as a mech or a man.

Jazz swallowed eagerly and continued to lick and suck as he and Prowl continued their efforts to drive the pleasure higher with each burst of seed from Miles' cock. Their sparks soaked up the pleasure and adoration they were offered. Neither mech could completely hide how badly they wanted more, that they wanted to mark him again, reinforce their claim after the loss, stress and threats of the past few days.

When Miles was aware enough to understand that need, he moaned in desire and relief at being back where he belonged. "Oh fuck, yes. Been _way_ too long since you've marked you territory, dudes."

Jazz in particular rumbled deeply, his chassis vibrating as he twisted his holoform around to kiss Miles deeply, then kissed Prowl just as deeply over the human's shoulder.

~Then come over here, lover-boy,~ Jazz let a little more of just how hot and raw the _need_ to reaffirm the claim was for him, just how badly Prime's reaction and unspoken threat had rattled him. ~Want to mark you so bad,~ he barely breathed as he crawled over Prowl's chassis to lay on his back near the human and two holoforms still loving on Miles.

Miles gave each of the holoforms a deep kiss before climbing up on the silver mech, running his hands along the elegant, sexy lines of his of his armor and putting his ear to his chestplates to hear and feel the spark inside.

~I'm yours, babe. You've got me wrapped so tight around your spark nothing and no one can pull me off.~

The palatable relief from both mechs, but especially from Jazz, was both heartbreaking and comforting in it's intensity and honesty.

Jazz ran his hands down Miles' back, caressing him even as he urged his socket down to his spike. ~So glad it's over. You amazed me how you handled yourself, even if I never wanted to know if you could.~

Miles moved into position, turning so his back rested against Jazz's abdomen, his head just at his chestplates. ~It was all 'cause I never felt alone, dude.~ Sensing the depth of emotion, Miles tried to keep to himself that he felt could do it again if he had to, if it meant turning more 'cons and getting more information like they got, as long as he had Jazz at his back.

Jazz partially sat up, leaning against his bonded, and supported Miles as the socket brought his well stretched and lubed hole to the tip of the saboteur's spike, pausing a moment before taking all of it in with one smooth motion.

With a low moan Jazz turned his visor off to soak in and revel in the physical and emotional sensations. He thrust upwards, angling his hips and spike to hit Miles' sweet spot. Even though Jazz was the one acting, Prowl didn't miss the opportunity to stroke Miles' back or chest, or tip Jazz's head back to kiss him soundly.

Miles' moans joined the silver mech's as they created a rhythm, gasping and whimpering as each deep thrust hit that amazing hidden spot inside. Soon his eyes were closed as well, drinking in every shared pleasure and feeling pouring into him through the cable and socket bond.

~I love having you in me ... in my body and mind, having your nanites in my cells making me yours. And I love getting even a small taste of what you and Prowl have for each other.~

Jazz's spark pulsed hard, sending a rush of energy across his systems at the words and the honesty behind them. Despite having words to respond, Jazz couldn't find the processor power to translate enough for Miles. Only a sense _content-happy-**yes**_ made it across.

Miles utterly lost himself in the physical-emotional connection that was both so hot and tender that the emotions themselves were nearly enough to make him come a second time. A cable - whether from Prowl or Jazz he didn't even know - began pumping his cock. With wild abandon he met the increasingly urgent thrusts of his lover, the only lucid thought able to cross his mind was _markclaimyours_.

Jazz roared into a keen of ecstasy as he overloaded, his spike driving itself deep into Miles' body to deliver one spurting load of nanite-rich transfluid after another, driven by his own desires and his socket's.

~Mine!~ his will, the near-eternal firestorm that was Jazz's spark, washed over and through Miles with the intensity that was just shy of too much, right at where it felt the very best to the human.

Miles collapsed back into Jazz, sated like he had never been, keenly aware of the spark that seemed to have swallowed him whole and not let him go, fearsome in its intensity yet nothing Miles would ever fear.

~I love you, dude. You don't ever have to say it back or prove anything to me. It's enough to be yours.~

Gratitude greeted his thought, surprisingly deep in its intensity, along with a great deal of affection. As Miles processed that, Jazz's mind back off, giving Prowl the dominant position in the connection. The shift hadn't even fully happened before Miles became intimately aware that Jazz wasn't the only mech who almost desperately wanted to reassert his claim.

Larger white fingers slid along Miles' side and back and white cables curled further around his body. Not yet urging him to move, but giving a clear indication that his other lover was not yet sated.

"It's nice to be needed." The blond youth grinned as he pulled himself off of the silver spike, transfluid running out of his hole and dripping down the backs of his thighs. Hands and caressing cables pulled him quickly and demandingly to the tactician's chassis.

"You are more than needed," Prowl rumbled, almost all buffering of his emotions missing. "You are desired." He seemed inclined to continue, but Jazz rolled to his side and kissed him soundly.

~You have any idea how hot it is to watch you with a socket when you're this wound up?~ Jazz grinned across the cable connection.

~To you, intimately so,~ Prowl's amusement was unfettered here in the privacy of his berth.

Miles could _feel_ that desire pouring off of Prowl. It was unbelievably hot to feel the normally stoic mech this undone. He had to laugh when he was suddenly _hard_ again. ~Is that some of your special programming that lets me get up again so fast, babe?~ he directed toward Jazz while sliding fingers and tongue along armor seams that he fit easily into.

A choking sound and spike of _need_ hit from Prowl, nearly stealing the youth's thoughts.

~Nope,~ Jazz grinned. ~The stamina is standard from the socket, the nanites enhance it, but it's your desire that makes it work. If you didn't _want_ us, you would respond like this.~

There was something utterly delicious about that the strength of that need that tempted Miles to make him wait just so he could feel it a little more. ~So, Jazz. Should I make him beg to mark me, or just let him take me now?~

~Games later,~ the silver mech responded a little too quickly with just a touch of distress at the idea.

~Sorry,~ Miles said repentantly, and when the next wave of desire hit him from Prowl, he knew why Jazz had reacted the way he had. Without any more hesitation, the young man positioned himself and impaled himself on Prowl's spike.

The black and white mech groaned deeply and shuddered, thrusting his hips upward to seat himself fully inside his socket with a sense of relief that had nothing to do with the physical pleasure.

~I've missed you as much as Jazz,~ Prowl murmured gently.

~I'm sorry. I had such a strong sense of you being with me up there that I didn't think of what this was like for you. I'm just so fucking relieved that everything is ok, that I'm back, that no one is trying to get me away from you both ... I just got carried away.~

Miles began sliding himself up and down the spike, slowly, deliberately, clenching his muscles and then relaxing as though trying to milk Prowl's nanites from him.

Prowl's vents hitched and he shuddered. ~I understand,~ he assured Miles with a wash of affection and acceptance. ~I will not last long,~ he warned with an apology just before Jazz curled along his side and lifted himself to pull Prowl's head towards him for a circuit-melting kiss.

~Then don't.~ Miles replied, pouring the strength of his love back into Prowl's spark. ~I want you to claim me again. I _want_ to belong to you. I don't want either of you to have any doubt that I'm staying.~

~We don't,~ both replied instantly, though Prowl's thoughts were a bit less stable.

~It's not about that,~ Prowl struggled to organize his thoughts before Jazz picked up. ~It's the same drive we have to spark-merge when we've been apart. Not a doubt the other wants us, but a desire to have the connection strengthened.~

Miles nodded in understanding, the thought nearly bringing him to tears. The sense of being desired/wanted/treasured filling some aching hole in him he hadn't even known was there. ~I can feel that. It's just felt like so much has been trying to pull me _away_, and I want everyone to know that for me there isn't a doubt, that I'm yours.~ He moved his focus to Prowl's white spark that he found so dazzlingly beautiful.

Even with the driving need that enveloped all three of them, it was amazingly different. Jazz, at his calmest, was a maelstrom of intensity and spontaneity. Prowl, even at his most intense, was methodical and calm. Two polar opposites that complemented each other and Miles in ways the human didn't even worry about understanding.

Under him, Prowl shuddered, sucked in a deep draught of air and thrust up to shoot his nanites and transfluid deep into Miles' body with a wash of pleasure that went far beyond the release of overload, coaxing yet another climax from the youth's sated body. Miles became completely caught up in his perceptions of Prowl's spark, that like Jazz's, seemed to be encompassing him whole, though in a wholly different way. It laid claim not with fire and possessiveness, but with a deep, near unfathomable sense of welcome, acceptance and fondness. It was a place where he could curl up and rest, completely secure and safe, as surely as he could curl on on the warm metal lap. If Jazz was fire, Prowl could _never_ be called ice. He was refreshing, cool waters.

He knew that compared to how they knew each other, his perceptions were just a scratch on the surface, and yet it was an intimacy more profound than any human could have dreamed, that not even many sockets were granted. Miles felt deeply unworthy of such closeness and trust; all the same he accepted and welcomed it.


	40. Consent & Control 3 She Demon of Medbay

**Fandom:** Transformers Bayverse  
**Author:** femme4jack, chai16, Gatekat on LJ  
**Pairing:** Ironhide/Ratchet/First Aid/Mikaela, Mikaela/Ratchet, Mikaela/Ratchet/Optimus Prime  
**Rating:** NC-17 for mech/mech/organic sticky  
**Codes:** Slash, Dub-con, Sticky, Bondage, Kinky  
**Summary:**Mikaela makes good on her promise to Prowl to punish Ratchet for claiming her before the mandatory waiting period had expired and without proper paperwork. She gets some help from First Aid and Ironhide.  
**Notes:** Written for the Dathana de Gray fanverse, tf_socket_fics on live journal.  
Many thanks to our betas, Antepathy and Bluetalon.  
**"text"** translated Cybertronian.  
"text" organic languages  
~text~ bond talk or hardline cable talk  
::text:: comm chatter  
_Follows the events of Sunny Side Up ch. 10 Medical Snarls (Dathana de Gray ch. 38 on the sockets ff . net account)_

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Consent and Control 3: The She-Demon of Medbay

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Ratchet watched the Terror Twins saunter out of his Medbay with their submissive, smitten little human female. How it was possible for them to saunter while skating he wasn't sure, but they managed it. His cooling fans had kicked in the moment Mikaela sauntered into the room. What was up with everyone sauntering, anyhow? Didn't they realize this was his domain?

He glanced down at his innocently grinning socket.

Well...it had been his domain, until he had claimed the dominatrix leaning against his pede.

He wasn't sure what to say to her. She had taken their tango to a whole new level when she was on the comm with Prowl. Prior to that, their game had been in private. But today, she had played to an audience: The TIC, who enjoyed himself far too much at Ratchet's expense, and even worse, the Twins and their submissive little socket he was certain had brought up what Mikaela said when the two were in his office just to embarrass him in front of her mechs whom she treated as gods.

Well, if Mikaela thought she was winning this time, he would just have to remind her what he was capable of making her beg for.

Then First Aid walked in with a set of stasis cuffs.

"Hey guys. Prowl had me pick these up for you." The junior medic was as friendly as ever, smiling brightly as though he had brought in energon goodies. "Told me to make sure Mikaela didn't have any problem putting you in them, since they might be a bit large for her to manage. You want him on one of these berths, Mik, or in your quarters? If he offers any resistance, Hide said he'd help as well. He's waiting just outside in case we have any trouble."

Mikaela looked from the cuffs to Ratchet, contemplating the best way to take full advantage of the situation. Things had spiraled so far out of control for her lover that she almost wanted to cut him a break. But the elation of her new task, set down by the third in command himself, to punish her own superior officer and lover was far to tantalizing.

"Hmmm, let me think..." Swaying back and forth as if seriously considering First Aid's offer, Mikaela regarded Ratchet from the corner of her eye. She had never seen his frame so rigid and almost literally steaming. Made her want to watch it convulse and hiss under her ministrations all the more. On one hand, the prospect of the all powerful Doc Hatchet getting mechhandled by his own team was tempting. Just not as tempting as if she were to be the one to fully carry out his sentence. So many close calls to choose from and only a few thousand years to try them all. What was a girl to do with herself?

Out-loud she finally replied, "I should be able to take it from here just fine, thank you. We'll be heading to his private berth where I already have something I was saving planned as well." She then brought her hand up to brush back her hair before adding wickedly, "Though feel free to cuff his hands behind his back and lead him along after me. I can take it from there once we're in our quarters."

Ratchet looked back and forth between the vixen he'd claimed as his socket as his normally oh-so-innocent junior medic, his fans still working furiously. He worked hard to suppress the grin that threatened to give away just how much he was enjoying the outrageous behavior from both of them, and instead growled at First Aid, brandishing his favorite wrench. It wouldn't be nearly as fun if he went down without a fight.

"Touch me with those things, and I'll have your interface panel welded shut, First Aid. If she wants me cuffed, she can figure out how to do it without your slagging help. I'll not be led to my berth like a lamb to the slaughter, and certainly not by my junior medic in my own medbay."

"For someone used to dishing out to punishment, you sure can't take yours," Mikaela challenged before making her way toward his private quarters. She had always loved playing these games with him. Who knew inviting others to participate would be so much fun? Well apparently everyone but her since socket sharing was running rampant all over the base lately.

First Aid grinned unrepentantly and dangled the cuffs from one finger. "You will go quietly or good old Hide will get to take his frustrations out on you to put you where she wants you. I think he'll look forward to the excuse." He paused, then looked down at Mikaela with a mischievous grin. "Has he shown you what it feels like when he's getting spiked?"

Deciding to take that in stride for now, to First Aid she said, "Not just yet, but we'll resort to that fun tidbit after he's been properly punished. Wouldn't want to indulge bad behavior now would we?"

"True, he would enjoy it entirely too much with Hide," the junior medic snickered.

Stepping through the mech-sized door, Mikaela bolted for under his berth to make certain her apparatus was still set. Finding everything to be in working order, she quickly slipped out of her work clothes and into a certain costume she had set aside for such an occasion. Over it she pulled on a robe and hoped that this time he'd actually get to see the outfit underneath for once instead of ending up in another indulgent shower scene. Not that she regretted that in the slightest, but a gal had to put her foot down sometimes if she ever wanted to get any well-thought-out schemes accomplished.

Ratchet watched his fiery socket enter their quarters, a wicked smile on his faceplates and his optics flashing with naked desire. His hypersensitive hearing picked up her almost frantic preparations and he held back a laugh. He knew very well what was hiding under the berth he shared with the little female, and had been surprised and amused by her creativity, wondering when she would finally get the advantage on him and carry out her plans.

He then raised an optic ridge at the security camera and gave a little nod to Red Alert who was certainly enjoying the show, probably along with Prowl, before activating a code that cut out everything but the audio feed. After all, it was his medbay.

::Call in Hide and make this sound good for her, and then I might just let you spike me later, with her connected if she's willing,:: he commed his friendly junior medic before raising his voice enough so Mikaela would hear.

"I'd like to see the two of you try to move me! Hide will find himself with his transformation cogs permanently AWOL and his frame rebuilt into a minivan for Sarah with a big red bow on top, complete with a "nanny-bot" bumper sticker. And you, Aid, will be thanking Primus if the only thing I do to you is weld you into a foot stool for Shimmerfire when she finally gets grounded from carrying seekerlings! Now excuse me. I have work to be done reminding a little human just who wears the pants in this relationship." He began stalking toward the door to his quarters with steps that shook the room.

"We did give you the option," First Aid said with the same almost-too-innocent manner. "Ironhide!" he called back to the large mech outside before darting forward to block his mentor's path. "Prowl's orders, doc. You are going down."

Mikaela was just about to peek through the doorway to see what was taking so long when she heard Ratchet's threats. That commanding tone, coupled with his powerful footsteps had her hand sneaking beneath the robe to cup her breast in excitement. Sometimes she wondered whether or not she could actually just get off on the anticipation alone when it came to her chartreuse lover.

Then she heard First Aid's reply and frowned in confusion. Stepping out of the room to question why Ratchet would need to be brought in with force when he was more than willing to walk in of his own power, the words caught in her throat. The imposing figure of Ironhide practically ripped the door off its hinges to get into the medbay.

"A minivan with a bow, you say?" His question was followed by a rough bark of laughter. "Doubt you'll be able to reconfigure much of anything with my spike reshaping your valve." After regarding First Aid's position, the black mech moved so they would have Ratchet flanked.

Mikaela heatedly gaped at the scene before her, one hand still hidden beneath the folds of her clothes and tongue lightly trailing along her lips.

Penned in fore and aft, Ratchet did the only logical thing for an overheated, horny-as-the-Pit CMO to do. Quick as Con drones after free energon, two wrenches went flying in either direction to mark his token resistance, hitting the helms of his assailants dead on with a satisfying clang just as he launched himself to the side with surprising grace.

"Don't think so." First Aid reacted nearly as fast to block him, a reminder that while he didn't have the experience of his mentor and had a pacifist core code, he was more than capable of handling a hostile patient.

Ironhide took the hit as though it were a simple recoil. Before the wrench clanged to the floor the weapons specialist was already wrapping his hands around Ratchet's wrists. "Was that supposed to deter me?" Pulling the mech closer, he added over their comm link. ::Did you have an actual plan in mind or are we having ourselves another free-for-all before we sentence you to that teasing socket of yours?::

In a single smooth move that reminded his subduers why some joked that he, rather than Jazz, was the terror of Cybertron, the chartreuse medic used his leverage to twist and trip up the weapons specialist, and sometimes lover, leaving him straddling Ironhide's waist with First Aid somehow thrown to the side.

::Valve reconfiguration sounded good, nanny-bot, but I think I'm more likely to be reconfiguring yours.::

"Forget Sarah," he said aloud for Mikaela's benefit. "I might just tie you up in a bow for Mikaela. She'll need someone to take her frustration out on after I'm through with her."

For the moment he had taken his attention off of his assistant. Before he'd even finished speaking, he felt something wrong in his systems: command relays shut off, taking his body out of his control.

"Really sir," First Aid leaned down, speaking loud enough for Mikaela to hear, "never taking your optics off all opponents was the first rule you taught me back when you introduced me to Sunstreaker and Sideswipe." He reached out and pulled the larger mech to his pedes, off Ironhide. "Good enough for you?" He asked quietly enough that Mikaela couldn't hear.

Ironhide's rumble of excitement at Ratchet's proposal was cut short as the chartreuse medic was pulled from him. He took full advantage of First Aid's distraction to once again get a firm grip on Ratchet's frame. "Promises, promises," he drawled lazily while tightening his hold. ::Anything particular you have stored up there in that ancient CPU? Or should I just go right ahead and start having my way right here right now with your socket watching?:: With a tilt of his helm he indicated said organic femme.

At one point during the titanic struggle Mikaela's knees must have given out since she was now sprawled rather unceremoniously on the floor. Beneath the robe her thumb and forefinger were fixated on her erect nipple. Meanwhile her other hand had traveled down and was attempting to show restraint from undoing the leather straps currently concealing her needy cooch.

Even immobilized and firmly under the control of his assistant and the growling black weapon on legs, Ratchet couldn't suppress a grin looking over at Mikaela who was watching the show with her hands all over herself. He felt a brief moment of pity for her that once again her careful planning was being thoroughly disrupted, but that was quickly swallowed up his triumph that he had managed to take the lead in their tango again.

::Let's show her how mechs do it,:: he growled on the comm to the old timer and the young medic who were nearly as heated as he was.

First Aid shivered against Ratchet's back and made sure his mentor wasn't too badly dented when Ironhide pushed him to the ground and crawled over him to claim the first hot, demanding kiss of the day.

"About damn time," the walking weapon growled.

First Aid knelt and claimed his own kiss, a much slower, gentler one, but it left no doubt of the medic's eagerness.

As First Aid took his turn at Ratchet's labials, Ironhide was already working his way down the chartreuse chassis. Between trailing his glossa over headlights and nipping the chrome grille he also found time to reach out a hand towards First Aid. Deft digits working their way between sensitive plating teasingly.

All the while Mikaela's breathing turned to pants as her hands roamed off her body and to the floor. Even with her limited human senses she could feel the charged air of the room and felt drawn to the source. Hesitant at first, she began a slow crawl to bring herself closer to the three mechs. Still out of reach but close enough to temporarily satisfy her craving, her fingers once again traveled up her legs to disappear beneath the concealing robe.

Ratchet gave a groan that echoed through medbay, and suddenly found his relays back online. Taking advantage of his regained motor control he pulled his gentle junior in for a nearly brutal, heated kiss just as his panel slid back revealing his thick, rigid spike and wide-open weeping valve. As First Aid's own panel slid back without a single suggestive touch, a small corner of Ratchet's mind wondered just how active the Protectobots were in the berth with each other.

Coherent enough to feel Mikaela come close and smelling the exotic organic scent of her arousal, he extended a cable to her and spoke to her through their already strong bond. ~Would you like to connect, girl?~ The fact that she didn't snap at him for the title a sure sign of just how excited she was.

He'd barely finished the thought when Ironhide pushed two thick fingers into his valve and took the tip of his spike into his mouth, swirling his glossa around it.

Voyeurism was never very appealing to Mikaela since it lacked a key element she preferred: getting to experience those sensual touches. Her imagination could run wild any day. Today she was offered an intriguing opportunity. Eyeing the offered cable hungrily she finally relented to temptation. Feverishly she brought the connector to her socket, encouraging it to plug in with light strokes along its metal shaft.

Ratchet's spark pulsed in pleasure as Mikaela plugged in, her arousal, curiosity and desperate desire an appetizer to her fiery pleasure that was still to come. He gently guided her mind to lose awareness of herself and be the spike and valve so expertly worked, to feel his own hunger to be filled with Hide's hot, thick friction. His hips bucked up into Hide's ancient and skilled mouth while guiding his junior to bring his large red spike to his own expert care, swallowing him while running silver glossa along the shaft. He squeezed and massaged the tip with his intake, eliciting an uninhibited groan from his trainee.

::Want to learn some new skills, junior?:: he asked half-joking, knowing very well the reputations gestalts had for creative interfacing.

::Always,:: First Aid tried not to thrust too hard as he delved skilled digits into seams of Ratchet's armor, stroking and stimulating the cables, sensors and protoform where he could reach.

All the while Ironhide worked the medic's spike and valve, reaching over to sink a finger into First Aid's slick valve.

Mikaela's mind reeled and she nearly tumbled over at the sensations she was being presented. The swirl of Hide's glossa delving into Ratchet's valve was riveting. The impossible feel of First Aid's spike as though within her own mouth via her connection to Ratchet left her whimpering.

She then looked on to the two mechs she could not feel and greedily wondered what they must be experiencing as well. No one's pleasure seemed to be ignored as each worked to stimulate the others.

Ironhide in particular let his gaze wander over to the human observer. With a wicked grin he pressed his glossa more furiously into the medic's valve, aware that she was now feeling it through him. He then pulled back immediately to only lightly trace the outside teasingly. Evil deed done, he switched his focus to First Aid's valve. Instead of just stroking the sensory nodes within, the black mech worked two fingers in and began a series of rhythmic thrusts.

Growling at the loss of glossa deep in his valve, Rachet turned even greater attention on the spike being ravished by his own glossa, adding rhythmic suction to the relentless squeezing of his glossa and intake. He added his own medically skilled digits to the two already in First Aid, while his other hand tried to pull Hide up to take his own dripping valve.

He became aware of his socket's intense curiosity and desire to feel the other two mechs, and longed to indulge her.

::Plug in to my cable. She wants to feel all of us.::

~They'll satisfy your curiosity, my sweet. If it is too much one of more of us can disconnect.~

As soon as two cables had merged into his own, Hide claimed Ratchet's valve with a rough, frame-jerking thrust, ancient optics glued on Mikaela to watch her reaction to her first taste of her mentor's ravaging even as all three of their sparks pulsed in anticipation of her animal bliss added to their own hedonistic pleasure.

"Ohhh," First Aid shuddered at his mentor's efforts and reached out to Mikaela's awareness on instinct, stroking the organic's systems to heighten her pleasure. Somewhere in the jumble of sensations she became aware that his focus held far more innocent curiosity towards her and what her pleasure was doing to him than the familiar feel of the mech pleasuring him directly.

The addition of two other cables seeking out her socket was an untouchable feeling that had Mikaela practically rocking and reeling right there on the floor. She felt it all pour into her mind and envelop her senses. Needing to be more of a physical participant she lithely crawled over to the closest mech, First Aid. She knew him the least of the three and felt compelled as his cable pulsed back at her.

But it was nearly impossible to concentrate with how Ironhide was taking Ratchet. Abandoning First Aid's valve with his fingers, he was now using both hands to grip Ratchet's hips. Each lunge into that valve so closely connected to her had the girl trembling to keep her hands off herself. Where normally she was controlled enough to show some level of restraint this entire arrangement had her positively overwhelmed. And she couldn't help but adore every aching moment of it.

She felt the energy they were building up in her flow out, only to replenish itself with every mechanical stroke and caress of fingers and glossas the mechs used on one another. The encouragement she felt from that issued within the cables gave her the focus she needed to climb onto First Aid's frame. Barely suppressing a moan from both the sight and internal feel of the way Ratchet's glossa was wrapping around his protégé's cable, Mikaela reached into the neglected valve. Knowing where to touch and how it would affect them both, she spread her fingers over sensory nodes and massaged slick walls tenaciously.

First Aid cried out into a shuddering keen as his body betrayed him and overload hit hard and fast, surprising him both in its speed and intensity.

Ratchet felt a swell of pride and unfettered passion as Mikaela threw herself into the danger zone of a mech orgy with all the same abandon as she had shown in battle in Mission City.

::I want to watch and feel her ride your spike:: Ratchet was barely able to comm to his assistant. ::Straddle my face and I'll suck your valve at the same time::

He sent his sultry socket the image and felt her answering surge of excitement. Hide continued his relentless slamming of the CMO's valve, static charge beginning to dance over their frames.

Then suddenly, as if by some signal he was not aware of, it all stopped. His relays were off and he could not move. Mikaela disconnected him and Hide picked him up and dumped him over his shoulder so he had the perfect view of First Aid plugging into his writhing female as she impaled herself on the white and red mech's spike. Ratchet tried to bellow frustration, only to find his vocal processors also offline. The weapon on legs marched him straight to his quarters and dumped him on his berth. Somehow, the stasis cuffs had ended up with the black mech and Ratchet was unceremoniously cuffed.

"Enjoy your punishment, Hatchet. I know I certainly am." Hide chuckled and walked out, leaving the door wide open so Ratchet could watch him hook into the cable connected to Mikaela who was having a wild ride. Without any hesitation, Ironhide continued where he had left off, thrusting deeply into First Aid's valve and holding down the Protectobot's hips.

Ratchet was forced to listen as his socket's sexy cries joined the grunts, moans, and mech noises of one of his oldest lovers and his newest apprentice.

It appeared Mikaela had taken the lead in the tango once again.

First Aid cried out sharply, his chassis trembling as his overload took him by surprise.

"Need to do this more often," the junior medic gasped out as his valve gripped the thick spike inside him and his own spike spurted his transfluid deep into Mikaela's body. "Maybe with my gestalt?"

Ironhide grinned at the feel of the tight valve convulsing around his own spike. Relinquishing his powerful control, he allowed his own overload to follow First Aid's and fill the junior medic. All the while he put on a show of gripping and rocking those metal hips to add to the spectacle. He was only now marginally regretting having also assisted in disabling Ratchet's vocalizer. The roars of frustration from the CMO would have certainly added to the rush of energy the three experienced.

"A gestalt?" Mikaela was only just coming down from her own orgasm, still straddling the dripping spike. "Sounds like a challenge I'd be crazy not to accept. But in the meantime...," her words trailed off as she looked towards the frustrated CMO who's optics were smoldering at them from his berth-turned-prison.

Carefully she pulled her still-tingling body off First Aid's spike. Regarding it with another sneaky smirk, she took the tip of the slick metal shaft into her mouth. Her eyes were locked on Ratchet as she ran her tongue along it to clean off some of the tangy fluid. When she'd sufficiently cleaned their mingled fluids, she made her way down to the Med-Bay floor. "Thank you both for your assistance," she said to him and Ironhide. "I don't believe Ratchet simply walking in on his own would have been nearly as effective. Especially with what I have in mind for round two."

Mikaela then made a show of adjusting her robe to make sure nothing was revealed quite yet before beginning her sultry stride towards the immobilized medic.

Behind her two engines revved hard, and First Aid turned in Ironhide's grip to claim a demanding kiss. "Take me so hard the others come running," he growled, his entire chassis trembling in need for a hard fragging that his gestalt-mates didn't have the mass or aggression to do.

It seemed that the only things Ratchet could move were his optics, and they were currently glued on the human who was sauntering, yet again, and for very good reason. She had clearly won this round, and was going to enjoy her prize.

Though he outwardly glowered at her, his processors were delighted. She was so full of life in the very best sort of way - uninhibited, physical, passionate, competitive, and so very smart. Just watching her ride First Aid had nearly been enough to bring him to overload, but not quite. So he lay there immobilized, staring at her, his spike still fully pressurized and his valve desperate for attention. He could, if he wanted to, reactivate his relays and gain mobility: he knew the overrides. If he were to be honest, he could always win just by the overwhelming advantage he had in processor speed and physical strength, not to mention the control he could take when he was plugged in. But where was the fun in that?

Instead he watched her sexy, life-filled body swing her hips as she entered their quarters, the door sliding shut behind her.

~You may be able to control everything else, my little lover, but you can't control this,~ he said through their bond, his tone full of love, showing her the image of her riding First Aid's spike, her head thrown back as her climax took her. ~Your pleasure is the most beautiful thing on this planet.~

Overwhelming her with his very real desire and adoration was one of his most effective weapons in the battle.

~No, I can't stop you from doing things like that, you dirty old mech,~ Mikaela sent back huskily. ~But after an orgasm like the one I just had, I'm more then prepared to deal with what little teasing you try to throw at me.~

Strolling up to his berth, she made her way to the top and stood beside his helm. Lithely she ran her hands over the intricate plating of his face, running a finger to his mouth and stopping at the corner where his metal lips met. ~Besides, you're the one who never got a chance to finish properly.~

With a too sweet smile she bent down to let her lips follow the trail her finger left and kissed that neglected junction. "That can't be very comfortable for you, doctor," she said aloud while straightening.

~Give me back my vocal processors, and I'll tell you just how uncomfortable it is, my sweet. Besides, don't you want to hear me roaring in frustration? I know how much it gets you off. I know everything that gets you off, likely better than you know yourself.~

His optics were glued to her, still in her robe. She was literally pulsing with energy, in sweet resonance with his own. To his finely tuned sensors, she was filled with light the same color as his own spark, with intensely bright spots at her charkas, the brightest at her breast, and only slightly dimmer at her sex. Her scent was her own aroused pheromones mixed now with the sharp tang of First Aid's transfluid.

~You need a bath. Let me give you one with my glossa. I'll lick every inch of your cunt so I can mark you with my own scent. As good as First Aid's mechfluid smells on you, I can make you smell better.~

Mikaela silently thanked First Aid and Ironhide for the strength they granted her to deal with Ratchet. Apparently Cybertronian chrome was far more powerful then the finest Earth silver when it came to how he wielded his glossa against her. His words through their bond alone were seductively coaxing in all the right ways. Had she not already let out some of her excitement earlier on another spike she would have been climbing up onto his face so fast for the best metallic-styled mustache ride of her life.

"Those are some very tempting offers you're proposing," she managed to say with only a hint of breathlessness. "But I have one better." First one shoulder and then the other, Mikaela eased the robe off of her. Slowly the fabric began to reveal bare skin that lead into a strapless, black leather corset. None too shyly it boosted her breasts up without exposing nipples and crisscrossed down her front. Where it ended, a garter took over which loosely dangled unfastened straps against her long bronze legs. The entire ensemble came together at her waist where a chartreuse leather thong with a black first aid symbol on the front greeted him.

Before the robe completely fell to the berth, Mikaela pulled a remote from the pocket and casually passed it from one hand to the other. Through the bond she teased, ~I'll give you two guesses as to what this little guy can do to you. You get any right and I just might reward you before using it.~

With the tip of her toe she then poked Ratchet's nasal ridge before adding out loud, "And no scanning. I'll know if you try that and have to punish you further. And not in the fun way," she promised with a wink.

Ratchet vented at the toes on his face, and in a cheeky move, opted to not even acknowledge her dominatrix costume other than with a cycle of his optics.

~Is it a garage door opener for our new weekend home, or does it activate a vibrating strap-on?~ he asked in mock sarcasm even as his spark sang in hunger for her.

It would be just so easy to give in to her game, but part of the fun was to see just how far she could push him before he lost control, and whether he could last longer than she could.

Mikaela suppressed a giggle as he released a rush of air against her bare foot and instead frowned at his outward lack of interest. Inside she was brimming with excitement while flipping a switch on the controller. "Not quite..."

From beneath the berth three sets of robotic arms emerged. The lower set clamped around his stabilizing servos and the upper ones held his wrists in place. The middle set broke apart into a series of cables that Mikaela climbed up onto him to attach to certain locations she had memorized from her anatomy lessons. Seeing that he was nicely restrained, she bent down to reactivate Ratchet's relays so he would be able to move on his own. However little good that would do him now. His vocal processors remained muted.

Climbing off him quickly Mikaela asked, "Comfortable?" She then twisted a knob to send a teasing electrical pulse from the middle set of restraints that flowed beneath chartreuse plating to torment sensory nodes. P

Ratchet's labials twitched in the beginnings of a smile that was quickly suppressed. He had noticed the invention his socket had gotten Wheeljack's willing help to create some time ago, and had simply been waiting for her to gather the nerve to finally use it. Many times she had come close, only to find that the tango lead had been swept away from her yet again.

This time she had established the lead and the rhythm as fully as she had ever been able, but she obviously had not thought her plot completely through. He could easily have unleashed a hundred cables on her the instant she restored his functions, wrapping her and stretching her with lubricated, sensuous living metal before dragging her quivering body to his spike. But that could wait until she truly believed she had won this round.

The electrical pulses teased his circuits and drew his attention back to his aching spike and valve. He suppressed a moan, and instead sent Mikaela a rather lurid image of himself ripping her chartreuse thong off with his denta. In that way, he chuckled inwardly: she had thought of everything.

~So comfortable I could fall into recharge at any moment, my sweet little pet,~ he teased.

Mikaela felt her face heat up at his utter lack of a desirable response. He was riled up and ready to overload. She knew it, he knew it ... so why was his body language so frustratingly reserved? Alright, she knew damn well why. He was still in control. Even while tied down and at the mercy of her mechanical ingenuity.

"That's such a shame," Mikaela said regretfully. "Because I'm not ready to let my naughty prisoner escape me that easily." Taking a deep breath and making sure her feet were still safely on the discarded robe, Mikaela slowly began to crank up the electrical voltage.

It was good. It was slagging good. He thanked Primus that his vocal processors were still offline so she wouldn't know just how slagging good it was. It was as though she were stroking the living protoform deep underneath his armor, building friction and charge. Against his conscious will, he felt his cables begin to activate to grab her, but he quickly offlined those was well. Yes, it was cheating, but having the game end too soon would not be what she wanted or needed, and even more than winning the game, he wanted to please her. Being firmly in control till the final moment was such sweet pleasure for the fiery, life-filled mechanic whose blood swarmed with his own nanites.

What he wouldn't control was the trembling of his spike, the single drip of transfluid than ran from its tip just asking to be suckled off up by her pouty lips, and the thick lubricant that was beginning to spill from his valve. For a brief moment, he wished she were a mech, wished that she could bury her spike in him as they opened their chestplates and became truly one.

Mikaela licked her lips at the sight of Ratchet's quivering frame. She knew he'd only be able to hold back his responses from her for so long. And this was exactly what she needed to see. But now, now it was her turn to feel. Voyeurism was fun foreplay and all, but she needed to get in there now or end up as frustrated as she was about to make him.

After shutting down the electric stimulation she waiting a moment before stepping onto Ratchet's metal berth and then climbing up onto his frame. Once there, she took the time to smile gloatingly down at his face before sitting down between his primary chest plates. "That's right," she purred while running her nails between freshly stimulated seams. "Try to cum for me. I know you need to."

Spreading her legs across her chassis, she again exposed the chartreuse thong that looked just as complementary as she'd imagined against his armor. She then pulled one of his plates to reveal humming systems that her fingers quickly went to work on teasing.

It was having her flesh on his chassis that finally made Ratchet come undone. He wanted...needed her so much. She was his life, and not just figuratively. The moment she saw the quiver in his frame, her seductive and glorious life-energy flashed, nearly blinding his sensors for a moment. Her energy, the radiant light, pulsed and flared in rhythm with his own spark, her organic life force calling out to him on a subatomic level. Suddenly the only thing that mattered was pleasing her and seeing that energy grow until she finally allowed him to plug in and drink of her endless gift.

How others of his kind could see this and experience it...and view their sockets simply as convenient tools was beyond him. The source of their life force, as tiny and fragile as they were, were objects of worship and awe. He could not fathom feeling otherwise. As a medic, the preservation of sparks, no matter their faction, was his fundamental function. He loved and treasured not just his own sockets, but every last one of them. When he had discovered the truth about the organics that gave them life, protecting them became as fundamental to his programming as the preservation of the sparks they fed.

He would have sparkbonded with every single one of his claimed sockets if he could have.

Suddenly, the game didn't matter to him. All that mattered was doing whatever it took to see her life-giving energy flare. He onlined his vocal processors and rewarded her efforts with a deafening growl of pleasure...the tone that he knew made her quiver with need for him. He held back on taking her with his cables, knowing that her energy was far from peaking.

It was easy to not get to caught up and overwhelmed by him when this started. Mikaela already had her mech-induced orgasm and Ratchet was completely frustrated and at her mercy. He held himself back before when she gave him the chance, but now she could hear his resolve breaking with that incredible rumble of desire. Before he could change his mind and take her then and there, Mikaela quickly removed her hands from his stimulated systems. She then crawled across his chassis, looking for just the right landmark she needed. Spotting it, she removed his paneling and disengaged the system as best she could remember in her frantic state.

She had no clue how, let alone much of a desire, to deactivate his primary cable for jacking into her socket. His systems would most likely react rather poorly and view the act as a threat to his spark. It was knocking out the rest of the competition in the form of his other cables that occupied her swiftly flying fingers. Besides, with limbs restrained and all but one cable out of commission, she should be able to take him, right?

Settling herself in the middle of the chartreuse chassis with a mischievous grin, Mikaela drew out one of the many neutralized cables from its hiding place beneath his armor. Hand coasting along its smooth chrome surface, the mechanic found a junction in it where she gently separated it from the mech it was attached to. Taking the cable into her mouth first, blue eyes locked onto his azure optics, she then proceed to trail it down the crisscross front of her corset enticingly.

"So Ratchet," she began with a too-absentminded casualness. "How's it feel to not feel this at all." Mikaela then promptly pulled back her chartreuse thong enough to thrust the disconnected cable inside of her.

Mikaela's energy flared yet again as she thrust his detached tool into her lovely folds. Oh what his skilled medic hands could be doing to her if it were his digits probing her depths instead of an inert cable. He flared his own EM, penetrating her with his energy since he was denied the pleasure of penetrating her with anything else.

She was vibrant, so excited by finally having control. Yes, he still had plenty of tricks, but this was the furthest she had gotten in their tango, and he could see the rewards of her excitement and triumph blazing in her, just waiting to be stroked to the point of no return and then devoured by his spark in sweet ecstasy. He wanted nothing more than to encourage her beautiful dance, so he rewarded her efforts with the roar of frustration that he knew she was looking for, straining against the bonds, pulsing his EM in a frenzied rhythm so she would believe she was fully in control.

~When I get my cables on you, darling, I'm going to wrap you so tight you can't move and stimulate every nerve you have until you are begging me to fuck every hole you have.~

He roared again just for good measure, his frame trembling, watching for the delicious results.

The rush of energy Ratchet emitted sent a wave of pleasure over her. Coupled with the self-administered probing and Mikaela was almost pushed over the edge. And possibly onto the berth with the way he was moving under her.

Resisting the urge to finish herself off and deny him that sweet swell of her essence she knew he craved, the mechanic withdrew her improvised dildo with a silky moan. "Mmmmm, you always feel so good inside me." With a devilish wink she proceeded to crawl towards his helm with the detached cable still clutched tightly in her hand.

Now leaning over his face, she brought the chrome cord up to her lips and licked her along its length. Slowly and sensually, she cleaned if off. Now at the tip, she cooed, "Just can't get enough," before taking it into her mouth.

Ratchet watched her licking off her own sweet juices that he ought to be tasting, and admired once again her will and determination. His processors cycled through the many ways he could regain control and mastery in the dance, but he rejected each suggestion, knowing that what got her off was for him to lose control.

It was a problem. He could pretend to be doing so, and she might be convinced of his show, but she was keenly perceptive when he held something back from her.

He desired everything about her, but the problem was that it was not simply her flesh that drove him over the edge. It was the sweet connection through the cable that allowed him to experience everything she experienced and drink up each delicious feeling even as he fed them back to her. More than that, it was watching her amazing energy build. Anyone could have a climax. But her very soul fed the energy that made up her peak, and it was better than vintage high grade.

She could not physically stimulate him enough to drive him over the edge like a mech could, and this was a source of endless frustration to her, because it made them unequal when he was fully capable of driving her over the edge with a thought. Yet she still didn't seem to understand that what would send him out of control in an instant was seeing her sweet energy pooling up and ready for release the way it did when he drove her over the edge. She was so in control in the current situation that her energy was not building, though it continued to be beautiful. As good as his spike felt inside of her, drinking in her sensations of being taken were far, far better. He was addicted to her pleasure, and couldn't have enough of it.

All of these thoughts came in a nanoklik, and he was left with a dominatrix who desperately wanted to drive him over the edge, but who still did not recognize what it was in her that did so.

He rumbled under her in frustration, desperate to truly give her what she wished, reaching out toward her body with his glossa and attempting to lift his head only to have her squirm out of the way as she licked the cable.

He finally resorted to begging.

"Please, Mikaela, let me plug into you. I won't take control. You have my word. I need to feel your mind. Through it, you can control me."

His socket interface moved on its own accord, attempting without success to snare her arm, plug, and pull her toward his waiting dermas.

Now there was a thought she hadn't considered much before; using the connection to control him instead of vice versa. But then, she probably never gave it much credit since the idea was ludicrous. It was blazingly obvious who had the superior strength in their relationship. And not only was he her teacher but a super-advanced robotic being capable of interstellar travel. So she was more than bested when it came to games of the mind. Come to think of it, Mikaela often wondered why she even bothered trying.

All she had to do was look down into his pleading blue optics to know exactly why she kept at it, despite everything stacked against her. That look was more than worth every futile effort she made. That look had her custom medic thong nearly sliding off her hips with how wet he made her.

Reaching out to grasp the threatening cable with one hand, she teasingly brought it to the base of her neck. The mechanic then dropped his inert cord to use both hands for more leverage. Holding his interface connector firmly in place, she ran it along her skin, up and around the pucker of the socket he installed. "Mmmm, and how will you be able to hold yourself back if I let you? Can you even control that hunger anymore?" She certainly hoped not. Mikaela went through a lot of effort to tease the control out of him. The fact that he actually resorted to begging her now was a pretty good sign.

Her eyes sparkled darkly at Ratchet when she crawled and then bent forward to really look down at him. "Or maybe I should just plug this right into that middle set of mechanical hands I installed instead." She was pushing him into breaking free of her grip. She knew it would be easy for him to just slide right in. He was positioned perfectly too. "Let you suck on that for a while before letting you drink from your preferred organic source."

Plugging in to a socket was always to be a consensual matter, on pain of severe punishment. It was simply too easy for his species to take advantage both of the physical and mental differences between themselves and organics. By long tradition, unclaimed sockets always were asked to plug the cable in themselves. Once a socket was claimed, the practice became more relaxed, but it was still rare that responsible mechs would plug in without asking first, unless permission for such was granted ahead of time.

There were a few things that had driven Ratchet out of control in the time he had known Mikaela. When he first had claimed her, she had refused to ride his spike unless he also gave her his nanites, as he so desperately wished to but was completely against the rules he was so keen on enforcing for others. Then came the time she put on the Pit-spawned wetsuit and covered her socket with a lead collar. He nearly had cut the full ensemble off of her. And then there was today, taking his cable in her hands and holding it to her socket, taunting him with it, knowing he was just a few pulses away from kindling that amazing energy of hers.

Perhaps it should not have surprised him, but before he even processed the impulse, he sent override commands to the contraption she had connected to their berth and re-enabled his cables which immediately wrapped her arms and legs, spreading her thighs apart even as his socket connector cable plunged into her neck without so much as a by-your-leave.

He brought her to his waiting glossa first, anxious to taste the mixed flavor of both of his interns. Plunging it into her without any preamble he began to clean First Aid's transfluid from her body, moaning into her sex at the pleasure that burst through the connection into his spark in her helpless state.

~Do you want to feel what it is like not to be able to move?~ he growled dangerously in her mind, while the small rational part of him handed her a sliver of control that would allow her to override what was about to happen.

He was so fast, too fast. Before she could even begin to comprehend her new position, Mikaela was bound, penetrated twice over, and loving ever second of it.

The cable in her neck allowed her a clear view of just how far she managed to push the medic this time. Knowing the full scope of just how much she could make him want her was intoxicating. Then there was that glossa of his, slipping up between her bronze thighs and working its way into her body. The rumbling moan accompanying his oral treatment sent sweet vibrations right into her clit. Mikaela's mind reeled at she felt the feedback loop of what they were doing to one another.

Bound though she was, the sliver of control being offered along with a delightfully promising threat was tantalizing. And knowing Ratchet it wasn't just for show. Sure it felt like she was being handed reins to try and control a speeding freight train. But in the case of her teacher that was all she needed to win back her place on top. After taking hold of that control lovingly within her mind, she cast it right back to him. She had too much trust and faith in his overpoweringly capable cables not to.

~I want to feel everything you dare to lavish me with,~ she cooed back while her body arched against her restraints. A low moan increased in pitch as his glossa slipped in deeper. ~Show me just how naughty it was for me to have done that to you.~ With eyes bright and daring, she turned to lick one of the cables holding her suggestively before giving it a hard little nip.

Ratchet managed to laugh out loud despite what his gloss was doing to Mikaela's throbbing sex. She had won. She had made him lose control, and he was thrilled to be giving her the reward she had earned so thoroughly. That she handed his virtual safe word right back to him was a sign of both her trust and her desire to be fully dominated by him the way that only one of his kind could.

~My dear, I'm going to fill you with so many of my nanites that you'll be broadcasting my signature halfway across the globe. But first, a little payback.~

With that, he took full control of her muscles. She could not move unless he moved her. She could feel every exquisite sensation in her body and could do nothing to reciprocate other than have her responses sucked right back into him as though through a straw, only to have them added to the rapturous feedback loop of flesh, emotions, sensors, and a gluttonous spark.

He watched with a mental smirk as she felt herself cresting toward a climax, only to find that her mutinous body would not complete the ascent, but instead hovered right at the breaking point as he began to show her just how exquisite his control of her could be. He began feeding her fantasies of just what they could do together, and made her body feel as though each one was actually happening. But even with all of that, orgasm was just beyond her reach. He held the reins of that particular response, building the perfect storm of energy behind a wall that would not be penetrated until she was begging him to his satisfaction.

Feeling everything, but being unable to physically react had her silently screaming at the mech for release. In every way he could grant her it. Knowing she was fully deserving and still frustrated beyond belief, her mind rode out the slideshow of fantasies. Several of which she was shocked to find that Ratchet had dredged up at all, like the one where he was in his altmode, holding her down with enough seatbelts to restrain an entire family. As what she secretly thought about him doing next flashed across her vision, all sensation but orgasm caused her to tremble in place.

Despite his mental hold over her muscles a soft whimper managed to escape her lips. She was so close to the breaking point of outright pleading. With what little defiance she could muster, Mikaela taunted, ~Bit sadistic for a medic, don't you think?~

~I haven't even gotten started,~ the smart-assed Hummer replied. Then without any further ado, he laid her body out on the berth, still in full control of her muscles and orgasm trigger, and he transformed, right in their quarters, and somehow through physics she did not even catch, remained connected to her via his cable. His driver's side door opened and a dozen or more tentacle-like cables wrapped around her limbs and torso and gently but firmly pulled her inside.

~I saw your response to that particular fantasy, my dear. It tasted very sweet. I'm going to have to take you driving more often.~

With that, she was firmly restrained by cables and seatbelts, her legs spread wide, arms stretched horizontally. The chartreuse medic gave her back her muscle control so he could watch her back arch and her face contort with pleasure with his internal sensors. A long cable that looked suspiciously like a thick glossa emerged from down by the pedals, several other silver cables of the same material wandered down her chest to wrap her breasts and play with her nipples. Another snuck around her thigh to stimulate her clit and yet another slid down her back toward her silky smooth ass.

~Now that I have you properly restrained for your safety,~ he chuckled and left the statement unfinished as the wide door to their quarters slid open, followed by the door to medbay. Then Ratchet began to drive.

Mikaela may have been given back her body, but locked inside Ratchet's made her as though she lost even more control. A delicious realization the curled her toes against his pedals even as multiple cables worked themselves along her body. She wasn't so much sitting in his driver's seat as she was suspended above it, held firmly in an embrace of twisting metal that caressed and teased.

Her bronze breasts jiggled as the cables moved along their curves to her taut nipples. There they sent light jolts of tingling energy while coasting along her skin alluringly. Along with the thicker cable against her clit, Mikaela was positively trembling against the immense weight of an orgasmic storm fighting to be released.

Then one cord worked its way down her spine, leaving a warm, wet trail in its wake. As it rounded the smooth softness of her cheek, Ratchet very lightly rested the tip against the sensitive opening. The slick metal no more than grazing her skin and sent a thrill of excitement through her. The thicker cable working her clit took that moment to slip into her cooch.

He kept everything moving slowly. Back and forth inside her pussy, swirling along her breasts, and smearing some sort of lube around the puckered muscle of her sphincter. He was working it open to take the tip, pausing as the stretch elicited a gasp of pained pleasure. As seconds dragged by, Mikaela realized she had been holding her breath in anxious anticipation.

Letting it out to take in a ragged draught of air, she allowed her head to loll back impatiently. ~I know I'm not in much of a position for making demands... but is there any chance I can get you to tint the windows?~

Ratchet chuckled. ~No one can see you, my vixen. Though I cannot guarantee that they won't be able to hear or scan you. Your energy signature is broadcasting like a neon sign that reads 'take me now'.~

With that, he drove to where he had been heading in the first place, the command center where he was certain to find some interesting company.

As he drove, he pushed the large, thick, glossa-like cable into Mikaela's human valve with an agonizing slowness, its tip probing every crevice, searching for previously unknown nerves to tingle. Finally filling her completely, he let the tip of the cable gently probe and tingle her cervix, while the smaller glossa looking cables continued to tingle her clit and thrust with increasing speed into her anus.

The door slid open and he headed down the corridor toward the ops center, where to his supreme satisfaction his sensors picked up Optimus, Ironhide, and Major Lennox having a casual conversation without the privacy shields up. The door to the ops center slid open for him and he drove in, where he was greeted with strange looks from Prime and Hide until they had scanned him and determined what was going on inside.

"I thought you were supposed to be on you punishment detail," Ironhide rumbled, shaking with suppressed mirth.

"Hm yes," Ratchet grunted nonchalantly from his alt form. "Mikaela has finished with me for now. I was on my way to return the stasis cuffs to Prowl's office for safekeeping. Wouldn't want someone without clearance to have access to them, after all. I heard the three of you while I was on my way and decided to drop in. For a chat."

"A chat?" Lennox asked incredulously, staring at the CMO's painfully chartreuse altform.

"Yes, a chat. Since when is it a crime to want to chat with my fellow officers? We are social beings after all."

"What do you think you're doing?" Mikaela wouldn't have believed this was actually happening to her if she hadn't been staring through the one way glass and seeing the bizarre situation first hand. Ratchet was actually pushing to have a casual conversation with coworkers while fucking her thoroughly in his front seat. Mikaela didn't know whether to be offended or impressed by how easily he was pulling it off, either.

It was too devastating to see Ironhide there. His usually hard face was restraining a lewd smirk that had her face in turn heating up all the more. The fact that not too long ago he was involved in Ratchet's little sexual torture session didn't help. But then there was Lennox ... and Prime. Mikaela was almost relived she couldn't see from her vantage point how the sexy Autobot leader was taking in the scene.

The military father figure of her life was standing right there, completely oblivious to her. It was near mortifying. Especially how hot it made her, knowing she was safe inside her Hummer and free to enjoy herself. Then was when a rather persistent thrust of Ratchet's cables abruptly demanding her attention she had to bite down hard on her lip to restrain a scream. It was obvious the bots knew she was there and at least had an idea of what their twisted CMO was doing with her. And she had no plans to let Lennox in on the joke if she could help it. Which was becoming increasingly difficult as Ratchet's cables worked around and inside her. A coppery taste flickered across her tongue and she eased up biting her lip.

In a harsh whisper Mikaela demanded. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" The building orgasm still held back was weighing on her and any patience she might have had left for anything else was long gone.

~What the fuck I think I'm doing is fucking you, my dear Mikaela. I'm using the control you so freely gave back to me. Your body can't lie to me, and I know you are loving this, and don't think I haven't noticed how much Prime lights up those organic sensors of yours.~

Without any warning, Ironhide suddenly grabbed Will, sending a cable down the front of his pants and another to connect with his socket.

"Hide!" Will squeaked (in a manly, Ranger sort of way, he would later claim when the story was related to Sarah).

"You are too worried about decorum at work," Ironhide lifted Will to his intake to vent hot air against him. "There are no other soldiers around, and you clearly need some attention. What is it going to be? Beach, weapons range, berth, or in front of Prime and Ratchet?"

"But we are on duty, Hide..." Will sounded far less convinced.

"Oh, I can easily arrange for you to have a break," Prime rumbled, his optics and sensors locked on Ratchet's alt form, not even sparing a glance at Ironhide casually striding out of ops with his feebly struggling socket who finally admitted that clearing the weapons range for an unscheduled munitions test might just not be a bad idea.

Mikaela wanted to be able to watch and laugh at the scene Ironhide was causing with Will. It sure as hell sounded hysterical. But at Ratchet's mention of Prime she felt her body stiffen against his seats. It made the agonizingly slow thrusts of his cables even more stimulating. Then the hummer shifted on his wheels to bring Optimus into view.

Tinted windows or not, she could feel that hot blue gaze on her, optics practically smoldering against the chrome of his face. The Autobot leader's voice was like audible sex to her and Mikaela felt her muscles convulse briefly despite Ratchet's best efforts to rein in her orgasm.

~Ratchet, you are either the biggest tease or kinkiest fucker I've ever met,~ she sent over the link. Even in her mind her thoughts sounded strained and too full of need.

With only a low growl in response, Ratchet opened his door, the cables wrapped around Mikaela lifting her up and holding her up in the air above his hood as he transformed, kneeling at Prime's pedes.

With a smirk on his face plate, Ratchet bowed his whole frame to the floor in an ancient ritual that had not been seen since early on in the war.

"I present my socket to you, Lord Prime, for the life of your spark and as a sign of my devotion to you and to Cybertron."

Optimus' optics widened, his vents hitched, nearly stalling. His engine roared with approval.

"Stand, and bring her to me," Prime rumbled, his spike straining in its housing, unable to extend while the panel was still in place.

Mikaela was caught between finding this hot as hell and screaming her head off at the audacity of her mech. Presenting her like some foreign dessert to the host of a fetish party. Actually, cursing her lover out was quite tempting, but just as she opened her mouth a cable of his found its way inside. Biting against the hard chrome didn't seem to discourage him either as she felt her body lifted higher when Ratchet stood.

Optimus was getting closer with each heavy step. She thrashed uselessly against her binds, only to feel several cables slip deeper inside. Against the metal holding down her tongue she grumbled a moan. ~Remember that punishment from before? Cause I am so not done with you after this,~ she threatened even as her eyes tried to look anywhere but at the mouth-watering Prime.

Ratchet chuckled through their bond. ~Looking forward to it. Just give the word and I'll put a stop to it, though. Don't want to force you to do someone you'd rather not.~

Prime extended a hand to take her, his cables curling around her as Ratchet's slid away. Despite being the same size, the Prime's cables felt entirely different. Warmer, pulsing and vibrating slightly at just the right frequency to set off every nerve she had.

"I would share with you, organic," Prime's deep voice was commanding on a level she'd never experienced before. She knew it was a question, or at least an option for her to refuse, but she never thought it could sound so like a command.

"I would be honored for you to indulge in me," she found herself breathlessly replying.

Authority figures never did it for her before. But there was something about Prime that had her ready to obey and love every second of it. That Ratchet not only knew this but was making such a fantasy come to life for her was somewhere beyond exhilarating.

Even after her lover's cables withdrew Mikaela felt his presence behind her. It was reassuring as she gaped up at the towering red and blue mech. His own cables were tightening comfortably around her wrists and waist to bring her even higher off the ground.

A smile crossed Prime's features as his cables fondled her and he quickly plugged into her socket the moment Ratchet unplugged.

With a deep moan Mikaela shuddered, the power of the mech holding her flooding in. Ratchet commanded by raw tenacity and force of will. Now she comprehended that Prime was Prime, a commander by sparkright and core design.

She moaned deeply, shivering in response to his raw power. A warm, pulsing, vibrating cable circled and stroked her clit, pushing her right to the edge of an orgasm still held in check.

"So, how long should I keep her restrained?" Prime rumbled to his old friend.

"When she begs or you can't stand it," Ratchet said casually as he sat on a chair to watch. Of course, it was obvious his own vents were sucking in air and his fans going on full just at the thought of seeing his socket with his Prime and friend. Not to mention, after all of the work up, he still hadn't overloaded or had his spark flooded with her energy. Only the sheer strength of his will allowed him to continue to draw out the tango they danced.

Faintly, Mikaela wondered whether she'd be able to cum normally again. She had been stimulated so thoroughly for so long it was a wonder her clit could still feel. Let alone throb against the sweet thrum of yet another teasing cable.

Prime was a completely different experience to be connected to. She couldn't even begin to compare it to her link with Ratchet. It was more than apparent to her why he was the leader of the Autobots. His very presence exuded a power one could only stand in awed respect of. But to feel it this closely and within her? She was blown away by that alone. The fact that he also happened to be stimulating her just held her there at this impossible peak so close to ecstasy.

~Take me,~ she demanded hungrily. ~So close... just let me go and you can ride out what Ratchet's built up for you.~

The giant shuddered, his armor clicking faintly in place as secondary cooling fans kicked in. With a guttural rumble of his engine, he sat in the largest chair, one designed for his frametype, and leaned back before setting her down on his lower chassis.

"You will bring me to overload by any means you wish," his voice resonated though her body from his. "Then I will bring you to overload as many times as it takes to drop you off line."

Now there was a challenge that had absolutely no downside. At least none Mikaela's orgasm-starved body could currently fathom.

Looking from his crotch plate to his chassis, Mikaela debated which method to attempt. On the one hand, a spike was like a penis. Something vaguely familiar and that she had plenty of practice with lately. But a mech's spark... now there was a tempting test of her tutelage under Ratchet. The prospect of making the medic turned on and proud completely won out as she found herself climbing up the Prime's frame.

While larger, it was just as intricate as any other mech's. This gave her plenty of places to grip as she ascended, fingers curling knowingly around certain grooves and into seams. "Care to open up? Or any you going to make me initiate a manual override?"

Ratchet stood in panic, sputtering. ::Oh Primus frag it to the Pit,:: he commed Optimus, not realizing just how literally his socket would take Prime when he offered her any way she chose. ::She doesn't realize what she's asking. I've taught her about pleasuring the casing, but...scrap. Just tell her no...she'll understand.::

::I offered any method. I will ensure she is not injured, old friend,:: Prime moaned at her nimble fingers and unlocked his chest plates, sliding them open slowly so she could reposition herself easily around the myriad of moving parts.

She was faced by something very different than the average mech. Oh, all the internals were there, but she hadn't counted on the Matrix of Leadership being so prominent, or covering part of his spark chamber.

Tentatively, she reached out to the ancient artifact. But at the last second she diverted her hand instead to two of the prominent cables connecting to The Prime's spark chamber. Since this was overwhelming enough, Mikaela decided to stick with what she knew first before getting too adventurous too quickly.

Slight hands wrapped around the thick cords as she pulled herself into the open chassis. They were buzzing with power against her grip and the heat of his humming systems at work heightened her excitement all the more. Her eyes wandered back to the matrix but once again she chose to ignore it and work her fingers against those extra-sensitive cables.

Ratchet settled in to watch, the shock of Mikaela's extremely forward and unprecedented demand having shaken him out of his overload-deprived stupor. He was amazed that his old friend had let her go through with it, but also knew just how blissfully erotic it felt to have one's spark chamber pleasured. It took an incredible degree of trust, even for long time friends and lovers. It wasn't unheard of for a mech to ask their socket to use lithe fingers on the intricate components, but usually only after having been with them at least a vorn. But here was Prime with his chestplates wide open, baring the most important spark chamber and relic of their kind. He leaned forward, watching, entranced with that spark that called to him and every other Cybertronian like a siren song. The desire to merge with Prime was so deep in the Cybertronian psyche that it was likely to be at the level of spark rather than core programming.

Prime moaned, a deep, resonate rumble that vibrated his entire chassis and everything else in the room. ~Yes, good. You may touch her if you wish.~

~Her?~ The message was clear, but what he seemed to be referring to by it didn't make much sense.

Mikaela leaned back slightly to stare quizzically up at the Prime. Though upon seeing that his typically reserved face set in a pleasured grin she resumed her caresses. Nails ran along hard metal and fingers caressed over his layered wiring. Before she knew it, she had already worked her way back towards that curiously tempting Matrix.

Sure, there might be something feminine about the smooth lines that made up its intricate cage surrounding an otherwise simple spark-chamber-like oval. And now that she was really looking at her, Mikaela found one of her hands lightly touching the smooth chrome of the outer cage.

Prime tightened his fists and shuddered with a low, intensely pleasured moan, his fans kicking up a notch as his chest arched forward, trying to press into her touch even more.

Mikaela was shocked when a new presence made itself known through the connection, purring in pleasure in a decidedly feminine tone.

~Bold, fearless little one, touch us, make the Prime quiver and bellow so he can release your pleasure and feed his spark,~ a deep female voice commanded with a tone of amusement.

The new voice sent a shiver down her spine. ~You'd think I'd be used to weird shit like this,~ she sent teasingly to Ratchet across their connection before resuming her caresses.

As she watched Optimus continue to practically wither under her light touches, she leaned in closer. The feel of her chest pressing against the thrumming metal had her dropping one hand to tease her own excitement. The growing dampness gave her another idea. So she licked her lips and pressed a lingering kiss against the sensuous oval of the Matrix.

Powerful vents hitched, nearly stalling as Prime's frame shuddered. Across the cable connection she felt more than heard the command for more.

~Weird?~ Ratchet teased, though he sounded shaky across their bond, ~more like the single most erotic thing this old mech has ever seen.~

Ratchet could count on two fingers the number of organics who had likely touched what Mikaela was being allowed to pleasure at the moment. One was Sam. The other was Prime's very first socket. His organic simply had no idea what it was like for him to see her pleasuring one of the two most sacred relics of their kind. Of course ... she had touched the other sacred relic in very intimate ways as well, considering it was her former boyfriend that relic had chosen to inhabit.

No longer content to watch, Ratchet crossed the distance to where Prime was reclined on the chair. Without much preamble, Ratchet put his face even with Mikaela to watch her pleasuring Prime's most sacred space, and with nearly a feral growl, moved up to capture Prime's mouth in a heated kiss. Prime snaked an arm around him, drawing him closer and kissing back hard.

Mikaela continued indulging the Matrix, feeling the heat of Optimus's systems against her tense body. All the while her eyes were locked on the metal lip action above. Watching her lover and his leader so consumed in one another had her own internal fire flare up all the more. So it didn't come as much of a surprise when a faint tickle of sweat worked its way down her chest.

Groaning against the slick metal that made up the Matrix, she opened her mother wider to run her teeth along it lightly. The entire frame she was on shuddered hard.

~Again!~ Prime's demand was nearly desperate. ~Primus, do that again.~

Ratchet's own cable merged with Prime's. He needed to feel and not just watch as his leader and friend lost control under the capable care of his assistant.

Mikaela had to use both hands now to remain on Prime's chassis and away from where the metal lovers clutched one another. With the Matrix in a firm grip she nipped along the smooth chrome lightly at first. Then just hard enough that if it were skin she'd have left indents.

Prime's fingers dug into Ratchet's back armor and the arm of his chair. His chest thrust forward with a deep rumble as electricity rushed through his systems. Vents on full, he groaned, shuddering out of control before he bellowed his overload, uncaring of who heard it.

Mikaela held on for as long as she could. But once those faint tickles of electrical current turned painful she released her grip and she would have fallen back hard on Optimus' metal thighs had Ratchet not caught her. Not that she noticed, what with the intense orgasm finally coursing through her.

Vision clouded and mind reeling, she indulged in the intense burst of ecstasy. She didn't care who heard her cry out with unabashed abandon. It was too much, too beautiful, and so fucking worth the wait.

She caught her breath before Prime stopped shuddering, his vents pumping uncomfortably hot, moist air at an incredible rate and his optics offline as he lay slack in the chair. Across the connection she could feel him still twitching faintly in aftershocks and the deep, appreciative affection he felt for her efforts.

They finally became aware of Ratchet, fans and vents working fiercely, a charge still racing through his systems not having been released. Mikaela belatedly remembered with amusement that throughout the games they had played that day, her mentor had not yet overloaded, and looked like he was ready to open his panel and simply take care of it by himself.

"Don't you dare," Prime's rumble startled them both, and they both heard the deep amusement in it. He shifted almost lazily from slouching in his chair to lying on the floor and spread his legs. "If that charge isn't sent into me, I will be most disappointed."

Mikaela grinned down at the Optimus from Ratchet's hand. That orgasm really did a number on her, so she guessed she could sit this one out. After all that teasing, the medic had probably learned what lesson he was supposed to when this whole thing started.

Propping herself up against his fingers she coaxed, "Well it is your turn. Set me down if it's easier, I can just get the feedback from the socket connection this time."

Ratchet's eyes blazed as he handed his socket shakily to Optimus. "That wasn't the deal, Mikaela. I seem to remember our Prime promising to overload you as many times as it takes for you to drop offline."

The CMO then put his full focus on thrusting his desperate spike into Optimus as quickly as he could, letting out a groan that was almost a roar or relief. Under it was Mikaela's cry of ecstasy as Prime fed her the pleasure his valve felt at being stretched and rubbed against, the enjoyment at being the cause of his old friend's pleasure.

Mikaela wasn't sure who or what she was holding onto at that point. Only that what was happening to her was pure, adulterated bliss. The backlash washed over her mind, filling her with feelings of building ecstasy and a need for more. It was almost as though she hadn't already peaked with how thoroughly the new sensations were working their way into her mind and releasing into her body renewed sensation of desire and need.

Ratchet might have been far gone, but it didn't keep him from putting his intimate medical knowledge of Optimus to good use. He moved himself slightly higher on Prime's frame to fully stimulate the top of the giant mech's valve, pausing at the end of each thrust before pulling himself slowly out only to plunge back in with almost brutal strength.

Instead of words, Prime reached out to her with a simple image, that of her on his spike, riding it as her mech filled him so wonderfully.

The blatant invitation to be a part of this had her practically scampering down Prime's frame. And if it weren't for Ratchet's hard thrusts she might have made it in record time.

Careful of the two mechs, Mikaela reached out and stroked the slick metal spike teasingly, shuddering at the resonant groan of need she elicited and the rush of pleasure it created.

Ratchet's optics were glued on his socket, nearly indigo in his desire. He slowed his strength and pace with a moan. ~Your energy is so bright and beautiful today, as bright as I've ever seen it. Let me see you ride him, feel you stretched and filled by my oldest friend. Having my socket share with my Prime is...the most intensely erotic thing I can imagine.~

Ratchet's sweet coaxes were all Mikaela needed to spread her legs before the Prime's spike. Slowly she began to ease herself down on the erect metal, still mindful of the rough thrusts the chartreuse medic was giving his valve. Though by 'mindful' she was more indulging in the delicious feedback from her socket connection then being cautious. It had her moaning even louder as she felt the stretch from taking Optimus deeper inside of herself.

When Prime's deepening moans of pleasure vibrated his frame, added to the sensations around Ratchet's spike and deep in her own body, all three shuddered at the surge in pleasure fed directly from her into their greedy sparks. Prime reached up and grabbed Ratchet's aft, pulling in him more roughly while cables curled around Mikaela to keep her at the edge of ecstasy but not injuring her by the ever-increasing power of the thrusts rocking Prime's frame.

It was no surprise that Ratchet was the first to roar in rapture as pleasure cascaded from his spark throughout his systems to culminate in an eruption of fluid deep in the clenching valve. His fingers dug into the cabling where Prime's upper pedes met his torso as wave after wave of overload flowed through him in a brilliant release.

The surge from Ratchet had Mikaela clasping around Prime tightly in her own orgasm, one pushed higher by the rush of hot fluid into her body. All the while frenzied hands stroked lovingly along the cables wrapped around her body as she trembled within their caressing hold. Her body tightened, gripping the spike deep inside her while Prime roared his second release and kept going, thrusting into her in an unbroken rhythm and flooding her mind with the pleasure she was causing his body and giving his spark.

Once they had finally settled into a quiet, blissed-out state, Ratchet's spike still deep inside Prime's well-used valve and Mikaela still occasionally squeezing the one inside her, they heard someone clear his throat.

"This one is definitely going in my report," the most recent in an endless string of Congressional, Presidential or military liaisons said with a mixture shock and amusement on his face.

"If you find it that relevant," Prime rumbled, not even twitching at the presence of the new human since his chest was closed. "Do remember to say it is normal for us."

Under normal circumstances, Mikaela would at least drudge up the decency to be embarrassed. But with her body still trembling from all that sexual bliss she couldn't summon the will to give a shit. "I'd tease him to take pictures, but since he looks like the type to call my bluff I think I'll refrain."

Reluctantly she moved from Prime's spike to rest against his chest plating.

"Don't worry, I have it all as high def files," Ratchet gave her a lecherous grin and tapped his helm. "Mostly to remind him the next time he thinks he doesn't have time or the desire to play."

"I don't think you'll have to do much convincing," Optimus chuckled, pulling Mikaela up to hold her higher on his chest, shielded from view by his hand. "These humans are such a delightful share that I'm actually thinking of instituting a long dead tradition, that is, if Sam doesn't object, which I cannot imagine he would."

"What tradition is that? You've always been able to share our sockets," Ratchet asked, already knowing the answer but enjoying making Prime admit his desires nonetheless.

"But the presentation makes it so much more erotic, don't you think, Mikaela? Perhaps I would enjoy having my Autobots take turns presenting their sockets to me to pleasure for an orn or two, as the nobles and senators used to do as a sign of their fealty and to honor Primus. If their humans wished it, of course."

Mikaela shivered in the Autobot leader's hold on her as she considered his proposition. Not too long ago the thought of sexual sharing seemed distasteful at best. Amazing how a new species and their unique perspective could fly in and probe her out of that was of thinking.

"Well, I certainly have no objections. In fact, I think it would be a crime against the entire socketed human species for you not to." She curled against him serenely before looking up and over to Ratchet shyly.

"Anything that gets this lug nut charging more, and fragging more, for that matter, is fine by me," Ratchet grumbled with a smile.

Having been apparently forgotten, the liaison cleared his throat. "Well, I think my next step will be to interview all of the sprockets on base. I can't wait to see what some of the 'don't ask, don't tell' folks will do with this. My job never lacks entertainment."

"It's sockets, and here, I'm sure it won't," Prime chuckled in good humor as he retracted his spike and closed his interface panel. "That will be one report that should be amusing to read. Jazz or Miles Lancaster would be the ones to ask for a list, though any mech can point out who are the active ones with a glance around."


	41. Fear & Fire 3 The Morning After

**Fandom: **Transformers Bayverse  
**Author: **gatekat, chai16 and femme4jack on LJ  
**Pairing: **Red Alert/Inferno/Maggie Madison  
**Rating: **NC-17 for mech/female, mech/mech  
**Codes: **Slash, Het, Xeno (Transformer/Human)  
**Summary: **The morning after is almost always awkward, but when it's as odd and kinky as Maggie's, it's a new kind of mind-game.  
**Notes: **Written in the Dathanna de Gray fanverse (community .livejournal .com/ tf_socket_fics)  
**"text"** Cybertronian speech  
"text" organic languages  
~text~ bond talk  
::text:: comm chatter  
Red's Alt .com/blog/1046863_sexy-red-electric-concept-displays-french-dream-for-sports-evs

* * *

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Fire and Fear 3: Angst with a side of Paranoia and dash of Passion

* * *

Maggie's fingers twitched absently as she scrutinized one of the viewing screens from a well padded chair. Not needing a keyboard in front of her to operate the machine had its disadvantages. For one, her hands were left idle. This was, by far, the least of her concerns at the moment, but since it was also the most mundane problem, she fixated on it like a koala on eucalyptus.

The room was silent save for the sound of humming machinery and her tap-tap-tapping fingers on the chair's armrest. A few other people had passed by, but so far no sign of the Cybertronians. Ok, that wasn't true. Signs of their presence were everywhere. From the size of the underground office to the technology that filled it. A red flash from overhead threatened to catch her attention, and for the umpteenth time that morning she resisted to urge to stare up at the security camera. The ceiling was practically covered in the damn things, some more obvious then others, and each and every one leading right back to the same mech.

With fingers tapping more frantically then before she again submerged herself into the inanimate mainframe of the machine she was connected to. Her socket hummed dully as the feedback simply informed instead of stimulated. The entire interface was advanced well beyond what any university could have prepared her for. But despite that, Maggie had little trouble navigating through the data infrastructure. Her mind moved through programs and around folders easily, taking in some lines of code and disregarding others. She'd always had an analytic mind, this simply heightened her potential - potential meant for work, not interoffice drama.

With a heavy sigh, Maggie pushed up and away from her chair. The socket connection broke away from the computer easily. No lingering feelings or complications. No intimate invitations, or longing stares. Just a simple release. But now that she was no longer connected she found her thoughts threatening to take her back to the evening before. After the raunchiest job interview of her life, she had been swept off to the quarters of a certain duo. Warm metal hands and a cabled embrace had worked her over in a shared bath, the size of a swimming pool, till she'd never felt dirtier and couldn't possible get any more clean. But that, that had been last night. And this...this was this morning. Everything changed in the light of day, no matter how far underground someone tried to hide from it.

Tap tap tap went her fingers, this time against aching temples. "I need a drink," she said aloud. And since it was far too early for alcohol, Maggie settled for heading towards the nearest break-room, which hopefully had a reasonably fresh pot of coffee waiting.

Except when she finally found it, there was not a coffee pot in sight. The mech-sized security level break room, with its energon dispenser and small kitchenette for the non-metallic employees, had nothing caffeinated. Only a wide selection of Ayurvedic herbal teas could be found in the cabinets she slammed shut. Openning the fridge hoping for more luck, she found not a energy drink or cola in sight. Instead, there were plenty of bottles of something called Kombacha, a fermented tea made from some form of mushroom that looked revolting.

Maggie tried to keep from screaming out her frustration since she wasn't alone. She'd already literally fucked up and over the first meeting with her bosses. The room was moderately active with humans and a couple mechs. She _thought_ the large, bright orange mech was Grapple, and was fairly sure the even larger powder blue one making out with him in the corner was Hot Spot. Did these mechs ever do _any_ work aside from working one another and whatever organic snack happened to be on the menu?

"I see you survived your interview with The Mech," a young man sporting a base security badge grinned at her.

"Yeah, heh, I guess you could say that." She hoped her friendly smile didn't look as forced as it felt. "So, is there any place a girl can get a decent cup of coffee down here?"

"Nope," he shook his head with an understanding look. "You get used to it, eventually. The CMO's been trying to remove all junk food and caffeine since he arrived. Red Alert just made it happen down here a lot faster. Only place with anything decent anymore is Hanger 10, the main rec room."

"And it is about as hypocritical as it comes," a Jamaican woman commented as she approached them. "I do security checks on incoming packages. CMO's socket has a supply of her favorite dark chocolate, pricey vodka, and Mountain Dew coming in on a regular basis. Maybe Red Alert will relax if he and Inferno get a socket they have to keep happy, but I doubt it."

Maggie ran a hand through her blond hair. "From what I've seen, the only one able to sway Red into anything is Inferno. And If he's in agreement on this I doubt they'll be much change."

"Yeah, at least that blond kid is socket to a couple heavy hitters and makes sure there's _some_ stock on base, even if it's only one place. I'm Consun, by the way. Madison, right?" The man offered a hand.

"That's me, mate," Maggie shook his hand, and then turned toward the woman.

"Jackson, Tashelle Jackson. Nice to meet you. So you are the one working directly with Red Alert? Good luck with that, girl. Gotta go, my breaks over," the woman gave her a sympathetic look as she headed out the door.

Trying to maintain her work face she shifted the topic back to safer ground. "Ugh, first my chaptstick and now this. So do any of these weird teas even compare to coffee or should I just head up to the surface and try my luck there?"

"If you need the caffeine to function, you'll need to hit Hang 10, and you'll probably have to run if you don't have a mech," he advised. "It's a ways."

"I guess I'll just wait till lunch break or something. Thanks." So as not to leave empty handed, Maggie went to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of the Kombacha stuff. While walking back to her workstation she fiddled with the cap. If anything, at least it gave her something to play with while she worked.

* * *

Red Alert watched the security feeds from what the organics regularly called his lair, den, abode, or safe room. It didn't bother him as long as they didn't do anything threatening or stupid. Where would they or anyone on this base be without his constant vigilance?

This particular orn he found his attention drawn repeatedly to one security feed, where a surprisingly intelligent human femme was currently playing with cap of her Kombacha. He watched carefully as she took her first tentative sip of the cultured mushroom tea that his own testing had shown to have antimicrobial, anticancer and hepatoprotective qualities, as well as being a powerful antioxidant. He had obtained the beverage for the organics working on his team. The fragile creatures literally lived in a sea of dangerous viruses, bacteria, and pathogens. Why, even the free radicals that were such a natural part of their environment caused cellular decay and mutation. How could they bare to be constantly surrounded by, breathing, and ingesting what could kill them? If the security chief did not know any better, he would be inclined to believe that the planet itself had a vendetta against the species.

**"She's taking this fairly well, all things considered,"** Inferno stepped close behind him and draped his much larger frame over and around his bonded without obscuring his line of sight with any monitors. **"Though I foresee a longer-than-usual effort to get her to abandon her preferred poisons. She's a willful one."**

Red Alert gave the smile that only his bonded could elicit from him, turning his head to nuzzle his beloved's cheek flanges and pull him closer for a kiss.

~We will just have to make sure she is intoxicated and stimulated enough by us that she won't feel a need for all of those horrid substances. Primus, Inferno, why would they top off the poisonous soup they have no control over living in with even more harmful substances willfully ingested?~

Red leaned forward to look at Maggie taking another tentative drink of the slightly bubbly liquid. She did not appear to find it as revolting as her initial reaction in the break room had revealed.

~I believe it goes under the heading of 'you can't do worse than I do to myself' towards the universe in general,~ Inferno chuckled, a deep rumbling vibration that made Red Alert's entire being tingle for a moment, but was quickly replaced with paranoia driven trembling as he glued every sensor on the feed coming from Maggie's work station.

**"I want to move her to use a work station in here,"** Red Alert announced abruptly. **"I want her to be where I can physically protect her at all times. I read some emails earlier today that suggested to me that resentment is brewing among the non-socket human contingent on base. Prowl and Jazz said I was being ridiculous. That someone complaining about seeing a cable inside an organic's valve did not mean he was considering murder."**

**"This time, I have to agree with Jazz,"** Inferno nuzzled him gently, extending his energy across their bond to help sooth his bonded. **"Their original culture has strong taboos against public interfacing. Those who have not become sockets have no reason to change that cultural outlook. Remember, Optimus, Jazz, Prowl and Ratchet are all keeping a close optic on those who are not adjusting to life here. Those that don't adapt, don't stay.**

**"How about moving her here _after_ she agrees to be claimed?**

Inferno suggested, knowing full well he was likely to be ignored. **"We don't want to scare her off by assuming we have rights we simply don't have yet."**

**"But _when_ can we discuss claiming her? Something could happen to her in the meantime, and if she wasn't near a security feed, I'd have no way of knowing! She could be on a walk on the beach and a sneaker wave could wash her out to sea. I wouldn't be able to alert Sea Spray immediately to rescue her! I wouldn't even know she had been swept to sea until her little, fragile body washed to shore, and even that might never happen. A shark could eat her!"** Red Alert's systems were swiftly speeding up, his senses extended fully just so he could try to train them on her no matter where she was on the island. His whole frame began to shake.

~Red, focus on me,~ Inferno quickly insisted. ~We can speak with her after shift today,~ he promised. ~But we can't rush her. She has as much right to determining if she joins us as you did with bonding with me,~ he added with the full love and adoration he felt for the high-strung mech. ~No matter how hard it is on us, we must give her the time and space to choose.~

The smaller red and white mech turned so he could hold on to Inferno's helm, still shaking almost uncontrollably, but trying desperately to focus on his bonded's strong, loving spark before he glitched entirely and had to be taken to medbay.

~I know, frag it. We _must_ convince her, Inferno. I'm liable to end up in stasis until she makes up her mind at this rate. What can I do for her? What can I give her to encourage her to like us? Should I give her petroleum product back? I know she is still upset about it. She mentioned it in the break room.~

~Why don't you ask Ratchet for something that would work as well but isn't harmful?~ Inferno suggested. ~Then we can give it to her as a first overture. Trust me, love. She'll choose us. I'll make sure of it. I convinced you. I can convince her.~

Red Alert suddenly froze and stared intently at the monitor. He cycled his optics and began to tremble again.

**"Something is _wrong_ 'Ferno. Look at her. She is pacing, her vital signs are elevated, her stress hormones just went through the roof!"**

**"I'll check on her, okay?"** Inferno, nuzzled him. **"You keep an optic on her from here."**

**"Will you bring her here?"** Red Alert asked weakly.

**"If she's willing,"** Inferno promised before heading out.

* * *

Maggie took another sip of the tea before settling back into her chair. The computer screen stared brightly back at her, unresponsive and inviting. The cable to reconnect her socket lay beside it. Reflexively, she licked her lips while mourning the loss of her chapstick.

Staring at the cable now made not thinking about two red mechs nearly impossible, especially considering what she'e let herself do when with them. Until now she had been successful at not over-analyzing the events. She'd tried not to think of how she gave it up hard and fast to her new employers after only the first encounter with them. She really didn't want to think of how they held her afterwards, bathed and then lay her down to sleep. And mostly she did not care to consider that, for their culture, the sexual exchange could have just been a quick snack break. At that very moment, they could well be doing the same fucking thing to the next horny intern that waltzed in and blipped across their radars. "Strewth," she cursed aloud.

Abruptly Maggie rolled back from the monitoring equipment and stood. She'd made it through this entire morning focused and strong. Having a breakdown now was out of the question. Bawling her fists, she began to pace her small work area, trying to settle her thoughts and regain her focus. _Later_, she assured herself, _mental Breakdown later, work now_.

Taking a deep, relaxing breath, Maggie turned to face the screen. Tentatively the interface cable was picked up only to fall to the floor. Confused, she looked down at and found that her hands had begun to tremble. "Of fuck," she mumbled. Quickly she folded her arms and hunched in on herself, while desperately trying to come up with a work related distraction that wouldn't remind her of dark fantasies coming to life.

As if those fantasies had decided to mock her, the door behind her opened and closed quickly, mixed with the heaving steps of a large mech that vibrated the work around her faintly.

"Maggie, are you all right?" Inferno's deep voice tried to get her attention without touching her.

Despite how tense she had become, the sound of that coaxingly sweet voice actually made breathing that much easier. Carefully she reached down to pick up the cable while answering, "Just getting ready to start back up again. Sorry, I didn't mean to fall behind on my first day."

Through their bond, Inferno got the distinct impression that Red was _moving_ somewhere, likely heading to medbay. His willingness to leave the security level was a signal of just how desperate he was to please the little organic who was trying just as desperately to hide how truly worked up and anxious she was.

~I'm listening through you. Please tell her that I would not expect her to be fully productive when she was so short on sleep last night. She woke up 13 different times, 10 of which were before she left our quarters,~ Red instructed, a new determination in his spark.

"That's not why I'm here," Inferno said gently as he knelt, trying to get as close to her eye level as he could. "You're stressed. We never meant to cause you distress, Maggie. We don't expect you to be fully productive with how little you rested in our quarters or your own last night, and how much strangeness happened."

Maggie couldn't repress a giggle at that understatement. "Yeah, well... I'm fresh out of college. So the no sleep thing isn't anything new. But, thanks for the concern."

Shyly she found herself glancing up at the large mech. On the one hand she wanted to get lost in those caring blue optics. But another part of her grudgingly figured he was actually just there for a midday snack. And after all they learned about her kinks yesterday, she was probably ideal alien fast-food.

"Maggie," he reached out a finger to just outside her personal space. "Is there anything either of us can do to make yesterday easier on you? We don't want it to be a one-time thing, or always so kinky. We both _like_ you."

Maggie openly stared at Inferno. For someone that wasn't currently jacked into her mind he sure know how to read her. Though, considering her confiscated laptop, he did have the players handbook and cheat codes.

She found just how easy giving into him all over again could be when she reached out and grasped his finger. "Wow, Big Red. Sweet talk all the Sheila's like this and you'll never be without power."

He cycled his optics and paused to look up the words that translated to names, then chuckled and smiled, only to try and not visibly wince as Red Alert went ballistic over the comment.

~Doesn't she realize that she is the _first_ organic I've willingly charged with while awake for over 10,000 vorn? We've _never_ courted or seduced anyone named Sheila! There isn't even a Sheila on base, much less two!~

~Love, 'Sheila' is a term from her homeland for 'woman'. I'm fairly sure she was complementing us.~

::Inferno,:: Ratchet suddenly commed. ::Can you give me some help here? Your bonded appears to be having a breakdown in medbay and I need to know whether to sedate him, or send him on his way with the tea and the case of organic lip re-hydration ointment he demanded.::

::Send him on his way, please. I'll explain later,:: Inferno replied.

"Red and I both prefer to have a single Sheila, and we prefer it to be a stable, committed relationship. Red's already glitching something fierce over wanting to keep you safe, but the real tell is he wants you _happy_ more than he wants you safe." He paused considering just how to explain how deeply Red was taken with her. "Do you remember the bit about how we need to feed our sparks with organic pleasure to survive?"

The analyst held back a snide comment and instead confirmed, "Yeah, that part I get. But now rewind a bit and explain something else. Why me? We only just met yesterday and I can't help but feel I didn't exactly leave the best impression. At least not in regards to anything stable or professional."

"Sometimes an organic will have a very similar frequency of energy to a given mech or pair," he tried to explain. "You are that way with us. Your energy is much stronger than anyone else. Resonance like that is addictive, in a very real way. Love at first brush of energy fields."

Even though Maggie wanted to scoff at his words, the very raw sincerity he spoke them with resonated with her. Taking a step closer, she dropped her hand from his finger and rationalized aloud, "That's a really flattering way to say I happen to be your favorite flavor."

~I'm coming,~ Red Alert announced in a crazed tone. ~I got her the labial moisturizer and some acceptable tea she might enjoy. Is there anything else I should get? You are so much better at this courting thing than I am. Perhaps a weapon? She really ought to be armed. We could train her to use it. Yes, I think I'll stop by and see Ironhide and requisition an organic-sized plasma pistol. And I read that human femmes enjoy flowers...~

~Red!~ he stopped his bonded's ramble. ~What you have is good for the first offering,~ he said firmly. ~We don't want to overwhelm her.~

He turned his attention to her. "It's much more than that, Maggie. We're trying to court you, as strangely as it may have begun."

"Strange? More like completely ass-backwards. Not that I'm complaining, mind you. I'm just ... I guess I'm still trying to figure this all out." Maggie shifted uneasily. For the life of her she couldn't understand why a guy would be trying this hard to be nice to her. Especially when he damn well knew how easy she could be. Far too easy for her own comfort.

"So are we," Inferno said softly, his own confusion and distress clear in the complex harmonics of his voice. "Just be ready for Red. He's rushing here in something of a state because you're upset. We _really_ didn't mean to stress you," he lowered his optics, his entire frame broadcasting a mixture of shame and desire. "My spark was just so hungry, his was worse. It's not an excuse, I know. We could have waited years if that's what it took. Would have, _will_, if you want us to."

Before Maggie could even reply, the door slid open and the red and white security chief all but fell in while he was in the midst of transforming from his alt form; a highly attractive brilliant cherry red Renault DeZir Concept with a white leather interior and white stripes, Maggie managed to notice.

Red Alert's optics focused on the floor by Maggie's feet.

"Ms. Madsen," he began, pulling a couple of boxes out of subspace that looked like doll house toys in his hands. "I have obtained a supply of non-petroleum based lip products for you. I heard you mention your discontent at being without them while you were in the break room this morning. This box contains several different varieties and brands of safer, plant based products that Ratchet has approved for organic use, in a multitude of shades as well as un-tinted. I would recommend the Burt's Bees shade "rhubarb" for your skin tone. If they do not meet with your approval, I will gladly obtain a different selection for you."

With that, he handed over a box that must have contained at least 200 different lip balm tubes.

"Th-Thank you," Maggie managed to say after looking from the box to Red Alert and back again. Since that still didn't feel like nearly enough she inanely added, "Burt's Bees is my favorite."

Staring into the lifetime supply of lip balm, Maggie considered what exactly it was she was getting into ... again. Though this time she wasn't blindsided in an elevator. Setting the box down on her desk she smiled at the two mechs. Red looked like he just came back from a bush bash while Inferno wore a carefully controlled expression. Both their optics were smoldering now just like they were the day before.

They were hungry for her. And it didn't matter how many excuses and jokes Maggie tried to make about that. Not when what she really wanted was to do it all over again. She wanted this to be real so badly, despite how unbelievable everything still felt. Needing to return this small favor somehow she asked, "Is there anything I can get for you two in return?"

Red Alert stepped backward into Inferno's comforting arms. "You've already given me more than I ever...Ms. Madsen, I have not shared with anyone since our little...since our socket symbiot...since she died because I wasn't watching her. I have only been charged in medbay, while completely offline, for more than 830,000 of your years. You are the first organic I have met since then who had an energy resonance as strong as hers. I don't want to do _anything_ to upset you, though it is impossible not to, because I am me. I upset _everyone_ and am the source of more frustration on this base than any other mech. I'm sure if it weren't for Inferno, they would have reformatted me vorns ago."

Inferno hugged him tightly. **"Not while I function,"** he promised with a deep rumble before focusing on Maggie. "We will do _anything_ for you to be happy with us, for you to be our socket."

Now Maggie was completely at a loss for words. She had two advanced alien machines practically throwing themselves at her. If they were human men she'd blow them off as desperate saps and move on. But each word and glance had her knees going weak and heart beating faster. She had been wanting to blame their behavior on some cultural misconstruction. But seeing how close they were now and wanted her to be, having felt what they meant last night and clearly still meant this morning... "If being your socket really is more then just some lunch date then yeah, I think I'd to give this a try."

The words were barely out when Red Alert quite literally collapsed into Inferno's strong arms, sparks flying from his sensor horns, the second box tumbling from his hand to the floor at Maggie's feet.

"You are far more than a lunch date to us, Maggie," Inferno assured her as he scooped Red Alert up in his arms. "I have to get him to medbay. I believe you'll find the tea in the second box gives quite a kick."

"Is he going to be ok? What just happened?" The tea was ignored as she rushed around it to follow.

"He glitched from relief," Inferno actually smiled down at her. "He'll be fine in a few hours."

"Wait, so this is normal?"

"From relief, no. From paranoia from trying to protect us all, yes." Inferno paused, several cables snaking out of his ankle joint. "Would you prefer to ride on my shoulder?"

It was impossible to look at those cables now and not think of all the sexual implications that came with them. "Yeah. I'd like to ride yo- I mean with you. In case he needs something. Like support! Wouldn't want him to freak again when he comes to, and all." Maggie cringed at her words.

The cables gently encircled her, lifted her up and she found herself shuffled between cables as she was lifted to his shoulder, even as he began to walk again. "It will make him feel much better to online with you there," Inferno smiled at her warmly as they entered the main elevator.

"Great." Maggie gulped, remembering a little to heatedly the last time she was held like this, in here, by him. "Do you always need to take him to the medbay when this happens? And I should probably know what else usually sets it off if I'm going to be sticking around for a while."

"It's best, though not strictly required," he gave her an indulgent smile. "Most of the time the buildup is easy to spot. It should take months for him to work himself to this state, and if we merge, he'll settle down again. The last few days before an attack you'll see sparks around or between his sensor horns. For you, if he starts to act _really_ irrational and I'm not around, alert Ratchet and comply with whatever Red wants to you to. Confronting him will make it worse."

Maggie nodded attentively. Inferno's easy manner and rumbling voice felt almost too good. However, one of his comments really peeked her interest in an exciting sort of way. "In a situation like that, what sort of things might he want me to do? You know, so I can be more prepared for him and what not."

"He'll want you close, likely inside him, to protect you," Inferno said as the lift stopped and he stepped into the lobby, then into open island air and bright sun.

Maggie shivered despite the warmth. The brief glimpse she got of Red's alternate form were enough to have her imagination going into overdrive with it. Her accent sounded heavier even to her as she said, "I think I can handle that."

A cable stroked her affectionately. "Glad to hear that. Honestly, he's quite predictable once you get used to him."

To hide her blush, Maggie looked down at Red Alert's still sparking helm. The Security Chief's face held that serene look even as the medbay door opened for them. The sound of machinery humming and scanners buzzing on standby didn't seem to phase the jumpy mech in his current state. She couldn't help but giggle at how much his stress response reminded her of fainting goats.

Her eyes widened as she took in the scene that greeted her once she had looked around. Ratchet was holding a naked Mikaela against a wall, wrapped in one hand, his thick silver glossa thrusting deep inside her while she writhed and twitched. Cables were wrapped around her breasts, their ends flicking against her nipples, while another was buried in her ass. A sharp moan echoed through medbay before yet another cable slid into her mouth to mute her cries.

At first she thought that the two were utterly oblivious to their presence, but she saw Ratchet's optic flicker in a wink at them as the door to what she presumed was their quarters slid open and he carried her inside, without once letting up on his multiple penetration of the dark haired beauty.

There was a chuckle as First Aid walked in. "Hey Inferno and hello to you, Ms. Madsen. Ratchet commed me and said you would require some assistance. Shall we put him in one of the secured rooms in the lower level?" he asked cheerfully.

If Maggie wasn't blushing before she certainly was now. The last time she was face to face with Mikaela they were on a helicopter together, right before all this alien business took over their lives. Now here she was, hidden from sight but still wrapped up in a most enticing position while Maggie sat on the shoulder of her own personal invader. Envy flared up that she promptly tried to ignore.

Looking to First Aid she nodded politely as Inferno's resonating steps followed after him.

"He should be more reasonable than usual this time," Inferno said amiably. "It was from relief, I believe."

First Aid gave Maggie a bright smile. "I'm glad to hear that. And how are _you_ feeling, Ms. Madsen? We need to do your post surgical check up anyhow. Shall we do that while we wait for Red Alert to wake up?" he asked as they entered the lift to the lower levels of medbay.

"I'm feeling great, actually. Easiest recover from surgery thus far." Running a hand along the warm metal plating beneath her she asked, "So what does this check-up entail?"

"A detail scan, and if everything checks out, I'd like to plug into your socket and check from there," First Aid explained calmly as they entered one of the stasis rooms in the bowels of medbay where Red Alert would feel most comfortable waking. Inferno gently lay his bonded on the berth and brought Maggie from his shoulder to sit on his hand at chest level.

"You should feel very little," First Aid continued, initiating the scan which sent a tingle through the analyst's body that was not nearly as pleasant as the tingles she was having in response to the resonant voices vibrating her to the core and back again. "Since you have already experienced your first share, I need to access memory of that to ensure that everything worked as it should and you didn't experience any discomfort. I will delete the memory file for your privacy, or if you'd rather, I can simply ask you some questions." He gave her a reassuring smile. "Entirely professional," he added, noting her physiological responses.

With an uncomfortable smile she pulled back her blond hair to give him access to her socket. She just had to think of it like jacking into her computer, opposed to getting jacked off. Mentally smacking herself for already being this riled up so early in the day she took a deep breath. "If this way is easier and more efficient for you, I can work with it."

First Aid extended his medical interface cable from his shoulder to her hand. "Plug in, please," he calmly instructed, his every mannerism designed to put her at ease, even calming some of her arousal with a gentle wash of his soothing EM field over her body.

Hesitantly, Maggie looked up to Inferno before taking the other mech's cable. She reminded herself that it was just like working with her computer. This had absolutely nothing to do with last night. She wasn't a slut, no matter how badly her mind ached to have another presence press against her thoughts.

With that she connected First Aid to her socket, tensing up at the sudden feel of him.

~Your response in no way makes you a slut,~ his gentle voice caressed her mind. His absolute lack of arousal acceptance of her own as natural helped to sooth her more. ~You need to do nothing more,~ he added as she felt him mentally poke and prod at the socket, its programming and memory. She knew when he downloaded her experiences with Inferno and Red Alert, and the intense burst of pleased surprise before he could control it.

"Red Alert actively charged with you?" First Aid felt the need to verbally confirm it with both human and mech standing there.

She thought back to that perfect moment. The sense of hunger abating and a fullness that went deeper then she could have anticipated. Despite the nature behind the act, she knew she shouldn't feel like some piece of meat to them. Her own kind really had more of that effect on her psyche, even though the Security Chief and his bonded had quite literally fed off her. "He was hesitant at first, but in the end... yeah. He did." A sense of bizarre pride came over Maggie as she added, "And he wants to do it again with me."

"He wants to claim her, but that's getting ahead of things a bit," Inferno smiled. "He glitched when she agreed to share with us again and to let us court her."

"Maggie,"" First Aid regarded her with a look of awe. "You have my thanks. I am not certain you could understand just how significant it is that Red charged with someone while awake, and did so without glitching. But you also must not let the significance of that push you to do what you are not ready for. Take your time. As hard as it may be to believe after yesterday, they will be as patient as you need them to be, and it is _always_ your choice. Sockets are incredibly important and precious to us; there is quite literally nothing many of us would not do for those who share their life energy. Do not underestimate your value, nor how important it is to Inferno and Red Alert that what you choose to do, you choose freely because it is what _you_ want."

She felt the echo in her mind of how powerfully First Aid meant what he said. While daunting, Maggie couldn't shake the thrill of excitement that came with this potential new arrangement. After licking her lips nervously she admitted, "Well... it's not like they are the only ones guilty of rushing into things. Before anything even had the chance to happen I already wanted it to."

"That is perfectly normal, and even to be expected when your energy resonates with theirs so nicely. When it is this strong, it would be almost impossible for any of you to resist the attraction." First Aid smiled and disconnected from her. "Attraction on the subatomic level is no small thing to be reckoned with," he said as he gave her a gentle stroke on the back with one finger.

"So," First Aid continued, sitting on the edge of the berth where Red Alert lay, "any questions for me, Maggie? If I were Ratchet, I'd be giving you the run down of all of your rights, the importance of consent, and not to rush into being claimed just because it feels too good. Then I'd give Inferno here the speech about how much pain I will cause him if messes up, fails to get proper consent, or harms you in any way. However, this is Inferno. I don't need to worry about any of those things with him. He will court you properly and make sure you know everything you need to know," First Aid grinned up at the towering mech, not bothering to hide just how very pleased he was with this particular development.

Maggie licked her already dry lips before saying, "The only question I have right now is how long might it take for Red to wake up? And if there's anything I could do to help with this sort of thing?"

"I'm going to check him over and then online him if he is ready. Do you think he would appreciate being connected to Maggie when he woke, Inferno? If Maggie's willing, of course," First Aid flashed a quick smile at the analyst before proceeding to plug into Red Alert and run a diagnostic of the systems that had become so familiar to him over the vorns.

"I think he'd like that a great deal," Inferno smiled.

"So long as you're sure he won't just fritz out again." Maggie intertwined her fingers before adding, "Can't say I want to know what that could be like while connected to him."

"He has protocols installed to ensure the connection is dropped if be begins to glitch," First Aid assured her and extracted a cable from Red Alert's shoulder strut and offered it to her. "Only Inferno and experienced medical personnel can maintain a connection under those conditions."

She felt First Aid suddenly join the connection, as well as a strong sense of Inferno through his bond with Red Alert, all projecting calm reassurance as First Aid brought the Security Chief online.

A flash of panic, memory files being checked for tampering or corruption, and a nearly painfully thorough scan of everyone and everything in the room was the first signal that he was online. As he accessed his most recent memories, Maggie felt a surge of excitement and awe, followed by embarrassment.

~You stayed,~ his mind spoke with none of the harsh intonations she normally heard from him. ~Even after you saw me glitch.~

Maggie lightly caressed the cord attached to her. "Of course I did." With a wink she playfully thought, ~How could a computer analyst like me resist a mainframe like yours?~

~And she still agrees to sharing again, and that we can court her,~ Inferno added with a rumble of thrilled approval. ~It really will be okay.~

Maggie felt a shy and gentle brush of affection against her mind, so at odds with the wild games of day before. It was as though he were afraid he could break her with a single thought.

~Your are beautiful,~ he admitted. ~I can't resist you at all.~ She was given a sense that it was not her outward appearance that he was speaking about, but something at her very core. ~Did you like any of the labial dermal moisturizers?~

~Chap sticks,~ Inferno translated with a fond chuckle and wave of affection towards then both.

~I did,~ she assured Red Alert while sending a counter push of her own thoughts against his. With it were feelings of acceptance with a hint of eager excitement. ~Especially the Burt's Bees. When I get the chance, I'll definitely try that rhubarb shade you suggested.~

There was a bumble of excitement, a thrill of a good future, from Inferno, and something similar, though muted from First Aid as the medic disconnected.

"You are free to leave medbay, though I won't be back to clean this room for at least five or six joor," First Aid gave them a visor wink.

Red Alert nearly came undone with excitement at her acceptance of his gift and even more so at her desire. She felt him access the base network to determine that their location was secure before his trembling voice asked, "May I please pleasure you, Maggie, and Inferno, too?"

First Aid gave them all a friendly wave and excited for the sake of Maggie's modesty, though he felt no shame in logging in to the visual sensors for the room as he made his way back to the main part of medbay.

Maggie looked between the two mechs she was left alone with while considering the very forward request. Not long ago she was berating herself for doing what she was currently considering, but things had changed since and she did have a better understanding of the possible arrangements. Still not entirely sure of herself, she answered aloud, "Only if we get to pleasure you back."

* * *

::Ratchet, get to the control center for the isolation rooms!:: First Aid's comm burst was heavily encrypted. ::Red's asked to actively charge with a socket.::

::We are already there. I knew something was up when he rushed in for the lip ointment and tea. When I scanned him, it was obvious he had already charged with her once,:: came a pleasantly satisfied voice across the same frequency. ::Did our little scene help normalize things for Maggie?::

Still naked and sitting comfortably on Ratchet's lap, Mikaela piped out, "can you turn up the volume? I wanna be able to tell whether Maggie's moaning something or just moaning."

"Really, Mikaela," Ratchet scolded even as he turned up the volume based on her far less sensitive audios, "I'd have thought you'd have had more concern for her privacy."

Leaning back against warm chest plating she pointed out, "Ratchet, shiny, you just plugged up my ports in front of those three. Mind you, one wasn't online to appreciate the view at the time and the other two never asked to see. Negating that, it's only fair they also unknowingly return the favor."

"Not to mention the medical necessity," First Aid added as he entered the room. "We need to make sure he doesn't glitch from pure happiness. It is our duty to monitor them _very_ closely. Besides, Red Alert watches just about every intimate moment on this base."

"Oh yeah," Mikaela said with a snicker to First Aid. "Red is the reason I'm usually giving the finger to a camera during medical molestations. At least when Ratchet here refrains from restraining my wrists the entire time."

"Perhaps that is why he made that paranoid report to command the other day about human spies communicating using secret, coded hand gestures," Ratchet chuckled. "Having a socket ought to mellow him a bit...about everyone aside from her. Only Inferno will keep her from being physically attached to him at all times for her own safety."


	42. Fear & Fire 4 Hide n Seek

**Fandom:** Transformers Bayverse  
**Author:** chai16, gatekat and femme4jack on LJ  
**Beta:** Antepathy (thank you!)  
**Pairing:** Red Alert/Inferno/Maggie Madison  
**Rating:** NC-17 for mech/mech/female  
**Codes:** Slash, Het, Xeno (Transformer/Human), Kinky, Intense Oral Play  
**Summary:** A tentacled alien monster chases an Australian spy through the depths of the base, but what will happen when she lets him catch her?  
**Notes:** Written in the Dathanna de Gray fanverse (community .livejournal .com/ tf_socket_fics)  
**"text"** translated Cybertronian.  
"text" organic languages  
~text~ bond or cable talk  
::text:: comm chatter

* * *

****

Fire and Fear 4: Hide and Seek

* * *

Maggie stifled a sigh as Red Alert entered the security control room for the fifth time that morning, carrying yet another cup of tea for her to try. The mug (made with a lead-free glaze, he had assured her) looked like a toy held between his two fingers as it steamed, sending a sharp fragrance into the air. She had tried so many different kinds of tea that morning that she literally felt like her eyeballs were floating, but was afraid that telling him to stop would crush him or send him into a glitch attack.

"This one has eleutherococcus, Maggie. It is a non-addictive stimulant that enhances mental acuity and physical endurance without the caffeine-related insulin crash, and it also improves your use of oxygen," he said proudly.

"Thanks...again," she said awkwardly while accepting yet another drink. Sniffing the beverage she stifled a sigh at the potent herb-infused fragrance this one had. "I'll give it a try after I finish transferring these files to a more human-friendly program."

She was careful to place the drink just in front and to the side of her. That way it wasn't as though she were setting it aside and neglecting his efforts. Instead, she was keeping it close for when she was ready for it - which would probably never happen, considering how jacked up on caffeine substitutes she already was.

Red Alert watched her carefully from his seat in front of the monitors and gave a slight frown as she put the tea down without taking a drink. He ran a scan over her, causing her to twitch.

"Do you need to refuel, Maggie? Perhaps I should have brought you nutrients rather than herbs," he thought aloud as he quickly scanned her again.

"I'll be right back," he announced before she could answer. "I'm sure there was some dried Red Alga Porphyra in the break room. It is very high in A, B, C and vitamins as well as iron and protein," he announced, getting up once again from the seat at the control center.

~Red, love, calm down,~ Inferno tried to soothe him through their bond from his own office down the hall. ~She's had five cups this morning. I'm sure she's simply full.~

~She is _full_ of herbal stimulants, but not proper nutrients!~ Red Alert berated himself as he left his control room yet again. ~I was so focused on what would please her that I forgot about her actual physical needs. I am a disaster with these organics, 'Ferno. She's wasting away and I failed to even notice how low her glucose levels were. I need to write new subroutines to make sure I don't miss _anything_.~

Maggie was about to call him back, apologize inanely for whatever set him off and assure that everything was perfectly fine. Maybe she could even drink down yet another tea. But instead, the high she'd been running on all morning bore inspiration. She bit her tongue as Red Alert's resonating footfalls retreated down the hall.

A challenge has been issued when she first met him-one that she had been neglecting for too long. Now, alone and unsupervised in the Security Chief's office, Maggie made her move. Standing on her chair, she was able to reach the main counsel's controls. Then with socket connected and mind synched, she jacked into some of Red's more secure files. She didn't bother with the heavily encrypted stuff since there wasn't enough time, settling instead for the middle ground: the programs she could evade and hack into at her level but would raise enough red flags to warrant suspicion. Still uncomfortable with the idea of actually downloading this sort of information into her mind, the analyst settled for routing it into a trusty flash-drive. As everything transferred, she left a surprise of her own to be set as the new screensaver before finishing up. Disconnecting herself and the drive, she jumped down from the chair and made a break for the hallway.

Aside from a few scattered people, the coast was clear of direct threats to her impromptu mission. After making sure the door was closed and secure behind her, Maggie proceeded down the hall in the opposite direction from which Red had gone earlier. The next step was discreetly getting to higher ground with lower ceilings.

In the break room, Red Alert paused as he collected a dozen packages of tamari flavored nori for his new employee. He had kept his sensors, super-advanced even for a Cybertronian, on the little organic the entire time. As his remote connection to his security console pinged him regarding the breach, he suddenly understood what her physiological functions had been indicating for the last few nanokliks.

The red and white mech gave a slight smile. Even from the break room, he could hear the sound of her rapidly beating heart and her increased respiration as she excitedly began her first attempt at a security breach. He could not fault her for her distraction plan; she'd had his processors focused on her physical needs rather than his files and monitors all morning. Even her ploy of not drinking the fifth cup of tea distracted him. But if she really thought a simple hack wouldn't be noticed...well...he certainly had a thing or two to teach her. He followed the sound of her heartbeat heading out of the security level.

~Inferno,~ he purred, suddenly in a completely different mood. ~We have a security breach. I need to take you off of emergency response duty in order to hunt down an organic spy who is attempting to remove sensitive material from the command center. She needs to be taught a lesson, I think.~

~Understood,~ the fire engine rumbled, just as eager as his bonded.

Then, without any warning, Red Alert silently locked down the entire level and the one above it without an audible alarm, sending a highly coded transmission to Prowl to alert him of the surprise drill, and then to the rest of his staff that he and the head of emergency response would be personally handling this particular breach. The level above their own was unfinished and had no one working in it yet. It would be an ideal place to catch the tiny mouse who had stolen his cheese.

Maggie already made it up the three extra-long flights of stairs in record time, despite high heels and maintaining an innocent demeanor. Her adversary had too much control over the base's technology to risk the elevator. When she moved to open one of the doors that would lead upwards toward the ground level, she found it electronically locked. Frowning she attempted to breach the security code with several she'd hacked from Red's personal files, but the codes she had must have been for the lift, instead. They wouldn't work.

Cursing her oversight, she hurried down to the previous level. It was still incomplete and being serviced so she didn't worry about alerting anyone to her presence as she ducked through unfinished doorways and around construction equipment. The floor's lighting was dim at best so she had to be extra cautious of tripping as she worked her way toward the primary elevator. It was risky, but currently her most feasible option.

A few hundred feet from the elevator, she heard the noise of its doors being manually opened from the other side.

~I can hear her breathing and her heartbeat about 231 feet away in the northern corridor,~ Red Alert cheerfully informed his bonded after he had climbed the lift shaft and started the override on the doors. ~It hardly seems fair to her.~

As the door slid open, Maggie heard a familiar voice. "You are going to have to try harder than that, little spy." It was difficult to read his tone, to know if he was furious, playful, or something in between.

::He's playful and happy,:: Inferno commed her socket. ::He's also turned on.::

The reassurance from Inferno did nothing to alleviate Maggie's anxiety as she stopped short, turned on her unsteady heels and bolted back the way she'd come. ::Thanks for the heads up,:: she sent back to him. The stairwell was still useless so she rushed past it and around a sharp corner.

::Any chance I can talk you into switching sides here and helping a shiela out?:: She spotted an area where the ceiling was still low and rushed towards it. If anything, that should slow Red down enough to give her precious seconds. Then maybe she could rethink the layout on this floor to come up with a new escape route.

::Nah,:: he chuckled. ::Sorry sweetie, but I enjoy a playful Red too much to disrupt his game.::

Maggie could hear the heavy footsteps rattling the various wires and conduits hanging from the low ceiling under which she was trying to collect her thoughts. Suddenly the sound of the movements stopped. "Shall I give you a head start, little spy? I don't want the chase to be over too soon."

:Say yes. Say yes. Say yes,:: Inferno chanted across the comm. ::He's excited, happy, eager and NOT PARANOID!::

A rush of heat swelled within her as Maggie challenged, "It would be interesting to see how long you can manage to hold yourself back."

While making her way back towards the far wall, an open ventilation shaft came into view. Deciding that maybe the movies didn't always lie, she bolted towards it. A bare desk made for the perfect stepping stool for Maggie to climb up onto and check the shaft's stability before shimmying in.

::Oi, Inferno,:: she goaded over the comm. link. ::If you want Red to stay like this for that much longer, don't you think directing me through this metal labyrinth would work in your favour?::

There was a fractional pause, just long enough that she was sure he was talking it over with Red Alert, before Inferno answered.

::Well, my pretty little sheila,:: he all but purred across the connection, sending a shiver down her back and causing her sex to clench. ::Here's where we find out how much you trust me. Four meters, turn right.::

Considering how technically this could only end in something erotically awesome, Maggie took a chance and made the right turn. Crawling through the tight shaft wasn't the most comfortable or flattering route. It was hard to stay silent since her knees kept squeaking each time they rubbed too hard against the metal and her hair had to be ruined with all the static electricity. Sucking it up and continuing her military-style crawl she transmitted, ::I won't need trust if you're willing to accept payment for reliable services. You get me as far as Red could possibly stand and I'll spend my next day off watching and reading porn,:: She paused playfully before finishing with, ::and I won't masturbate once. I'll leave all that built up, randy energy for your spark to enjoy.::

She could swear she could _feel_ the intake of air and tremble of his frame at the suggestion.

::You ... have a deal,:: Inferno's voice backed up her assessment of his reaction. ::Ten meters and left.::

Red Alert accessed the internet to find the proper reference for the game that they were about to engage in. "Ok, time's up, little spy. Ready or not, here I come."

He could see her heat signature moving through the ventilation shaft, when suddenly it disappeared. From the schematics, he knew that the shaft she was currently in had turned to travel the same direction as the large hot water pipe that ran to a set of wash racks. It masked her from his infrared quite effectively. At the same moment Inferno shared her latest offer across their bond.

~What a clever bribe. She is a talented little spy. What shall we do with her when we finally decide to catch her?~ Red asked playfully, sounding equal parts relaxed, playful, and amorous. He sent his bonded back an image of their intended socket bound in a very revealing position.

~Perhaps we should recreate one of those vids on her frequently watched list?~ Inferno rumbled hotly. ~One of the tentacle ones.~

~I think we can manage being tentacled monsters for a joor, don't you?~ Red Alert agreed, revving his engine.

The ventilation shaft was becoming stiflingly hot as Maggie shimmied around a tight left turn and into another expansive section. The anticipation was getting to her as she speculated when a red hand would break through and snatch her up. Each grated portion of the metal vent was something to be wary of. Needing at least to escape some of the heat, she paused to pull off her leggings and unbutton her blouse a bit before continuing on. Maggie was hot and bothered enough; she didn't need the extra layers to hold her back.

Red didn't need her heat signature to find her any longer. He could smell her pheromones and exotic organic scents coming from the vents, and it became simple to follow her path. He now walked quietly, far more silently than any organic could imagine a being his size moving. On top of it, he could hear her breathing and even the blood rushing through her veins as he stretched out his keen senses and filtered through the sound of the water rushing through the pipes and the fans of the ventilation system.

He reached out and caressed Inferno through the bond, half tempted to simply face his bonded while the little human scurried around in the vents getting herself more worked up. But the chase was too much fun to give it up yet. ~I know exactly where she is, but I don't want to grab her yet. Her pheromones are so potent, and I want her arousal to build even longer before we take her. Shall I give her a scare, and then you can help her get away again?~

~Yes,~ Inferno shivered in anticipation. ~Make a grab anytime you want. I'll direct her away.~

Maggie was considering trying her luck and climbing out at the next grated panel when a scraping sound caught her attention. Eyes wide and darting around, she could practically feel the movements of something sliding along the outside of her crawl space. At first she couldn't move: heart in throat and muscles tense. Then, seemingly from out of nowhere, she felt something begin to tickle the painted toes pointing out of her designer high-heels.

With a startled yelp, the analyst bolted down the shaft and excitedly called out over the comm, ::He found me! I'm cutting my viewing time down to just a few hours unless you can get me away from him!::

::Six meters ahead, turn left. Can you climb up the inside of a shaft?:: Inferno asked calmly.

Red Alert grinned and retracted the cable he had used to startle her back into his wrist, his systems running hot with excitement as his sensors analyzed the scent of her arousal, the excitement in her vital signs, the temperature of her lovely organic valve, and the jolt of adrenaline as she fled.

Maggie looked up the direction Inferno indicated. It couldn't have been much higher then she was tall. ::I think so. Give me a sec.::

Drawing up her legs and readjusting her skirt, Maggie slowly stood. She was at shoulder height with the new exit. It looked darker then the one she had just been in, wider too. Wiping her sweaty palms on her already ruined blouse, she proceeded to pull herself up and began to crawl forward. ::Got it. So where will this one take me?::

::Just under the floor of our work level. Follow this and you'll get to a level that hasn't been locked down.:: He beamed her a simplified schematic of the ventilation system with the best four routes marked out in different colors.

Taking a moment to look over the information, Maggie considered which of the four directions to choose. She had no illusions of actually getting away in the end, so she settled on the one which lead to a wash-rack. If anything, being cooped up like this had her desperately longing for a shower. ::Thanks Inferno,:: she sent coyly. ::Couldn't have made it where I needed to be without you.::

::You owe me,:: he rumbled eagerly in reply. ::I'm going to enjoy collecting.::

A shiver ran down her spine at his tone and all it implied. Gulping eagerly, Maggie came to an opening in the vent and peeked out. A dark, cool room awaited her on the other side. From between the grating she spied large faucets that were practically calling her name. It was silent and from this angle appeared and sounded empty.

With a few rough shoves, she was finally able to get the shaft's cover off and peek out at her new destination.

~She had a video bookmarked where the girl is captured by alien monsters while in the shower.~ Red Alert's tone took on a pleading sound as he made his way through passages known only to the security division until he was just outside of the washracks she was hiding in. He could hear her, smell her, feel the vibrations of her movements through the walls and door. Now if he could only taste the organic energy that was calling to him like siren song.

Inferno paused briefly to check out the provided link and rumbled. ~I like it. On my way.~

Maggie kicked off her heels to feel the cold, tiled floor beneath her feet. The cool, damp room did nothing to abate the urgent heat growing within her. Any second two thoroughly teased mechs would be upon her, and she'd be ready for them.

Most of her hair had already escaped from her bun, so she pulled out rest. Leaving it in a curly mess down her back she moved on to her clothing. The garter belt and red thong could stay, but the skirt had to go. After kicking it off she finished unbuttoning her white blouse, but left it on to cover and reveal just enough to tease.

Taking a deep breath, Maggie stepped under one of the massive shower heads. As the automatic sensors detected her the flow of water soothingly poured down, causing her blouse to become nearly transparent as it hugged her body tightly. She then began to hum a coaxingly sweet melody. While Maggie did not have an impressive singing voice, anyone's vocals tended to sound better in a shower.

Outside, any mech passing by would have assumed Red Alert was close to glitching from the sheer amount of agitation radiating off the security chief. However, it was not paranoia that had him wound up as tight as the nanowire on Chromia's bow. He was awaiting the arrival of his bonded so they could drink together of what was coming to a boil in the racks.

~Hurry,~ Red Alert begged.

~I am,~ Inferno's excitement and good humor came back. ~You can start without me, if you want. I think she'd enjoy knowing she had you that wound up.~

Red Alert did not need to be asked twice. He quickly sent a signal that locked down the washracks, while releasing the remainder of the lower levels from their lock down status, informing his crew that the spy had been apprehended and he was not to be disturbed while the interrogation proceeded.

It didn't seem fitting to simply walk through the door. He knew she was expecting him, but he still wanted the element of surprise. He sent a signal and a plain section of wall retracted revealing another of the labyrinthine security passageways. He followed this one, pulling himself up to a higher level with a silent grace. Now he was poised just over the room where he could hear the sweet little organic voice twittering like an avian.

Sending yet another code, a panel in the ceiling silently retracted and several cables descended toward the analyst who kept glancing at the door, clearly expecting her captor to come from a different direction.

As Maggie shifted beneath the steamy spray, fingers worked through her hair to smooth it out. Her hands sensually traveled down her chest and to the side of her legs. She relished the feel of her own touches in the absence of others. When her hands were joined by another presence wrapping around her body, Maggie let out an excited gasp of surprise. One cable slid down her neck and between her breasts while another took hold of her wrist. Looking up, she blinked against the water droplets to see the blurry form of Red Alert emerging from the ceiling. More cables were suspended above her, as if just waiting for a reason.

"Oops," she said teasingly. "Guess I should have waited on the shower till after I finished my escape."

With a growl of triumph, the strangely playful security mech dropped to the floor and sent a multitude of slippery, glossa-like silver cables Maggie's way binding her feet and hands while several others wrapped around her waist, lifting her from the ground in a live-action hentai scene better than anything found on the internet.

"Well, my little spy, it almost seems like you _wished_ to get caught. But don't imagine that will in any manner lessen your punishment."

With that warning, his smooth silver cables jerked her shirt away from her breasts and proceeded to wrap and squeeze them, while two similar cables began pulling her slowly toward his waiting mouth as though he planned on having her for as biscuit with his morning tea.

Maggie considered what role to play as the mech brought her closer to his awaiting maw. The two extremes were the begging damsel-in-distress or the resilient La Blue Girl. She was too aroused to come up with anything more original since those were the default women roles she loved to cum to. Wiggling in his firm hold she couldn't help but admire the bright flash in Red's smoldering optics. He was thoroughly enjoying himself and she found herself loving the idea that she could make him this way - turned on enough to take a break from stubborn fretting for such a personal indulgence.

As Maggie was pulled from the water and held before him she puffed out her constricted chest as much as she could and challenged. "Ha, as if the likes of you could teach me to regret my actions. Next time I'll be sure to leave a more detrimental surprise after I steal all your precious files."

The flash that went across Red Alert's optics almost made her regret her choice, but after a moment in which became clear that Inferno had assured him it was only play, the red and white mech leered at her and brought close to his open mouth which vented hot air against her slippery sex. Bringing her in even closer, he put his lip plates against the curling hair above her folds, speaking so that his voice vibrated straight through her with a tone as calm and confident as she'd ever heard from him.

"Such bold words for someone so small. I can see, hear, feel and even smell you from well over a mile away when I wish to. You can't hide anything from me, especially how much this turns you on."

With that, he literally pulled her legs and hips into his mouth up to her waist, and began tasting every inch of her with his large glossa while gently sucking on her lower body.

She saw his optics flick away from her briefly, only to focus again after deciding that whatever caught his attention was not a threat.

Knowing Inferno was now watching made her current predicament that much kinkier. Suspended like a piece of fruit, Maggie withered and writhed against the cables that held her inside Red's eager mouth. His glossa had spread her legs, licking between them. Another smaller cable snuck in to remove the thong. The feel of his heated metal caused her to tremble against his tongue as he slowly pressed it inside her. All the while his lip plating firmly gripped her waist, pulling and pushing at her captured body. She was so wet, with far more than just water covering her nearly exposed body.

Her legs tried to kick, push away from the stimulation that was almost too much and just enough at once. But a grin held them in place between dente and metal cheeks. Unable to utter anything aside from a throaty moan she sent to Inferno. ::I hope you know this is-:: gasp ::entirely your fault. A-and I will get you back... for this::

"Looking forward to it, babe," he grinned unrepentantly up at her.

Suddenly she heard the snick of a cable connecting to her socket and her mind was full of the very mech who was currently sucking on her lower body as though it were his favorite flavored lollipop. The fierce craving she felt from his spark washed into her body with otherworldly pleasure, demanding more and willing to do anything she wished to taste the pleasure building in her.

Red Alert moaned with her lower half still in his mouth, vibrating her to the bone. Desperate to feed on her climax, he began plunging his glossa into her body at a frantic rate, EM pulses tingling every sensitive inch of her body while invisible hands caressed every nerve as he jacked directly into her nervous system.

Maggie's voice became base and tight; she urgently spread her legs further to accommodate Red Alert as he licked deep inside. She squirmed against his hold on her, incoherently pleading for more. She had never been so eager to share her body, to accept any pleasure that Red Alert offered. Her slick muscles clenched around him as she tensed and whimpered.

She fell slightly limp as the first orgasm burst through her. Though the moment of respite didn't last; the persistent EM bursts had already coaxed her to build for another climax. The first couldn't have been more than a snack for the ravenous mech as he continued to lap at her sex and pulse into her socket.

Maggie felt a moment of vertigo as Red Alert lowered himself to the floor, a stray thought through the connection telling her he did not trust himself to stand any longer. She felt her own sweet energy flowing into a ravenous spark whose purely alien ecstasy flowed right back to her asking for more. He began to vibrate the glossa inside of her, pulsing against her G-spot. She heard the sound of his interface panel retracting and sensed him reaching out to his bonded, desperate to have Inferno join them and fill Red's aching valve.

"Always," Inferno's deep rumble answered with a wave of protective love as the larger mech stepped to them and knelt to lean over Red Alert. His cable snaked out to connect to Red Alert's, giving Maggie warning enough to object to his intention of kissing with her in both their mouths.

Hesitant at first, Maggie's kinky curiosity won out as she nodded her consent. As she writhed against Red's glossa, she pulled her wet blouse from her skin and tossed it to the floor, followed by any doubts she had left as trust in both mechs. This already felt blissfully intoxicating. So the addition of Inferno, no matter how unorthodoxly, could only enhance the experience. Right?

Taking a deep breath Maggie wiggled her legs inside Red's mouth in anticipation.

They both felt Red Alert trembling in anticipation at the coming kiss. The thought of one glossa delving inside the blonde beauty in his mouth while the other explored her curves was almost enough to offline him in anticipation, but his spark demanded he stay with the game as his optics drank in the erotic sight of his bonded's mouth coming toward his own for a socket-filled kiss.

When their lip components met, Maggie was completely encased within her lovers. Inferno's glossa slid forward, caressing her breasts with soft heat. Then the fire engine slid the fingers of one hand between Red Alert's upper pedes to sink one finger into the slick, quivering valve.

Maggie had never been claustrophobic. If anything, small enclosed spaces were desirable. This only came as further affirmation now that she was held within the heated kiss of her lovers. Pliable metal tongues moved against and inside her, exploring and teasing. She heard her moans and gasps echo down Inferno's throat even as Red persistently ravaged her cunt. The socket connection amplified the sensations as she felt herself through them even as they now engaged one another.

~More...Primus more, 'Ferno,~ she heard Red beg as he began to thrust more urgently into her with his living silver vibrator.

~Yes,~ the big mech rumbled all around her as he withdrew his finger and sank his spike, sized large enough to stretch Red Alert to near the point of true pain, into the willing, desperate body under him. ~Love your valve.~

While the words were in her mind, the smooth reverberation of them rocked Maggie to her core. Panting desperately, she pushed herself up against Inferno's smooth denta to give him more access to her breasts. All the while, her juices flowed freely down creamy thighs as they buckled. Another orgasm rushed out from her neck and into the two cables, causing her cunt to clench in further need around an invading glossa. ~Love... l-love you both,~ she thought far more coherently then she had any right to. ~Take... keep taking. Want you t-t-t-o have, C-claim... please.~

Her climax and conviction sent Red Alert plummeting over the edge in an overload that was as much emotional as it was physical. The pure joy that coursed through his systems flowed freely into her and his bonded in a wash of warmth that tingled her with ecstasy from her socket to every extremity.

Another moan rippled out from deep in Inferno's chassis and he thrust hard and deep into Red Alert's valve, but he held his own overload back, knowing he was the only one with any shred of common sense in the moment.

~Thank you,~ Inferno brushed against her awareness when she was coherent enough for language once more. ~If you still wish to when you wake up tomorrow, we will do the paperwork.~

~Paperwork?~ Elated and dismayed at the same time, Maggie reached for the interlocked metal lips. She was able to coax them apart enough to stick her head out and pout at the open wash-rack walls. ~But Red wants to now, I can feel it. We both want it... But you can join in after the paperwork part.~

With a giggle she pressed herself deeper into Red's mouth, urging him through the link to make her his. Her longing and desire for them both now accompanied by realized love and heated need.

Red Alert moaned through her, his claiming protocols rushing online despite himself. He wanted her to be his, to always be able to feel her, know where she was, sense her needs and desires, and above all, _keep her safe_ from everything that would harm her.

He reached out through his bond, unsure whether he was begging to go ahead and fill her with his nanites, or begging for Inferno to help him get a grip.

~Want you...need you. You are _life_,~ he pressed his emotions into her even deeper than he pressed his glossa.

~Want you, want to claim you,~ Inferno responded firmly, only barely in control himself. ~We need to do this right. Consent during sharing is never considered valid, even if it's true. I will not give Prowl a reason to punish Red Alert.~

In her mind, Maggie felt that resolve. Prodding it with her thoughts and determination, looking for a weakness, any move she could make to change his decision. What she found was justified concern threaded with the utmost adoration for her and red Alert.

With a sigh, the analyst relaxed within their still interlocked mouths. ~Alright,~ she agreed grudgingly. ~But only because you're the only one allowed to punish Red Alert.~

~That's right,~ Inferno shuddered and thrust into his bonded again, letting go of his need to hold back. He let Maggie slide from his mouth, the roar already building inside his chassis when he reached down to close his fingers around Red Alert's spike, stroking it, trying to draw him into a joint overload.

Just the thought of _punishment_ sent a series of images coursing through Red Alert's processors, all kinky in the best sort of ways. Maggie had finally found her erotic match, in two aliens who were more years old than she cared to ever imagine.

Red Alert began to keen as Inferno began thrusting with abandon. He reluctantly shut his claiming protocols down while simultaneously inviting Maggie to ride his spike as Inferno lit up every sensor in his valve.

~Yes, please. Ride him,~ Inferno panted across the connection. ~Overload together.~

The eagerness she felt from her lovers had Maggie rushing down Red's chassis and towards Inferno's hand. Those digits were still wrapped around and stroking Red Alert's spike rhythmically. Wanting to be a part of it without interrupting, she sent them a new idea through their link.

With a determined grin, Maggie carefully climbed up onto Inferno's wanking fist. From there she positioned herself directly over where he gripped Red Alert's spike. Using Inferno's fingers for purchase, she got down on her knees and allowed the spike push against her dripping sex. The thrusts were at the rate of Inferno's wrist, taking her down onto Red Alert just enough before pulling her back off. The spike was still sized far too large for her to take it all. But with Inferno's hold on it gripping the base she could tease the tip and pleasure herself.

Red Alert's socket-pulses stroked her entire body with his appreciation of her imagination, along with a decisive message that teasing was fine for the moment, but he planned to be buried deep inside her within a few strokes. With each stroke of his bonded's talented hand, he sized himself a bit smaller so that more of him fit in her, stretching her wider than she'd ever been stretched.

Maggie moaned and encouraged the encroaching spike to be taken much more deeply. Each aching stretch brought her that much closer to filling their sparks with her life, that much closer to when she would be truly filled with theirs. As Inferno directed her body and Red Alert moved within her, she let out a fierce cry that echoed through the wash-racks. Her damp hair bounced against her back and her own juices coated her thighs. Even without shower's spray she was so utterly wet for the bonded pair. It allowed her to continue to take the spike into her to the point that Inferno's hand gripped her instead of Red. Her muscles tightened as she tried to hold out just a little longer before cumming again.

There were only a couple more thrusts before Inferno bellowed over them, his overload crashing through all three in the link with unrelenting force. His hips slammed into Red Alert's, jerking the smaller mech and driving Red deep into Maggie with each uncontrolled thrust as Inferno spurted transfluid into Red Alert's valve.

With an alien keen and a human shriek of ecstasy, the other two toppled into the shared climax where individual identities disappeared, sweeping all three into an endless spiral of throbbing ecstasy, fed primarily by two pulsing sparks eagerly consuming the life-giving feast.

Maggie closed her eyes as she reveled in the feel of her essence once again sustaining the two powerful beings she had become thoroughly connected to. The echo of their combined climaxes still resonating in her muscles as the contractions settled down and she felt far more relaxed then she had ever been.

Through the bond she considered how best to project the adoration and trust that moved her in such a passionate way. She settled for sending, ~As soon as I can hold a pen, put that paperwork within reach and you'll have yourselves a claimed socket.~

It probably should not have surprised her to find Inferno quickly unhooking her from Red Alert as the security mech glitched in joy once again.

Inferno suddenly chuckled at Maggie's pre-thought comparison to fainting goats. "Just don't tell him that, Even if it's too funny."

Shakily, Maggie flipped over to look up at Inferno with a dreamy grin. "I won't say it, but I can't promise I won't be thinking it through a connection with him at some point." 


	43. Frontliners 1 Explosive Conversation

**Fandom**: Transformers Bayverse (POV'verse)  
**Writers**: gatekat and femme4jack on LJ  
**Pairing**: Ironhide/Will Lennox, Ironhide/Drift  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Codes**: Slash, Xeno (Transformer/Human)  
**Summary**: After more than a day of mulling things over, Will finds himself ready to have a conversation with Ironhide than could well make the base explode.  
**Notes:** Written in the Dathanna de Gray fanverse (community .livejournal .com/ tf_socket_fics)  
Picks up a couple days after _'Hunting Pleasure 18: Of Mother Hens and Brother Jackals'_

****

Frontliners 01: Explosive Conversation

* * *

Will Lennox hadn't seen his mech in nearly forty-eight hours, and for the first time since the walking cannon had claimed him, it didn't make him fidgety. He was honestly grateful for the time. He needed it to get ready for what promised to be an explosive conversation with an equally explosive fallout no matter how it went.

Ironhide was not going to like what he had to say. Not on any level.

So he'd been grateful for Drift's too-polite, nearly formally spoken request to 'have' Ironhide for the night and jumped at the chance to have time to mull over just how to approach the situation. He was sure Ironhide had wondered about it, given he hadn't known until that moment that the white samurai mech even was his mech's lover, but both mechs let him go without much more than a questioning glance.

He'd spoken to Epps, Figuera, Mubarak and a few others who were at high risk of capture. As he expected, to the man, they loved the idea of such a quick and painless death, one that couldn't be stopped by stripping them down or stunning them before they realized they were in that much trouble. Not that it would help him much with Ironhide, but when it came to the real argument, the one with Prime, it would be good statistics to know.

Now he just had to somehow convey how much of a comfort it would be to have that programming installed, and then have knowledge of it wiped from his brain other than a sense that things would be okay.

He drew a deep breath of the relatively cool sea breeze as he stepped out of the human barracks and focused on trying to sense where his mech was now, and if he was still in the berth.

* * *

Ironhide had come out of recharge with Drift wrapped around him. As tempting as it was to awaken the samurai mech to start what would have been round five, he had been getting twinges from Will. Seeking him out through the socket-bond, he found the major just outside of the stand-alone quarters the family shared with plenty of yard for Annabelle to play. The weapons specialist was all for _anything_ that made Sarah and the three year old happy with their move from the beloved family farm to a military base in the middle of the Indian Ocean.

"My socket needs me," he explained quickly when the samurai roused and looked at him blearily as he untangled himself from his lover and headed out.

~What has you processors in knots, Will?~ he grumbled through the link, though strong affection and concern was evident underneath.

Will smiled up at his mech and met him part way across the open space between the base proper and the 'burbs' that were between it and the airstrip for the C-17s and fighters. ~Something I know you're going to hate,~ he admitted up front. ~After talking to Prime and Jazz...~

~Right now, anything involving Jazz is likely something I'm going to need to slag things to deal with. Weapons range is empty right now. Let's talk there.~ There was wry amusement in the comment, but also an honest admission of what he'd likely need to do if Will had something in mind that involved the SIC. His guardian protocols were relentlessly suggesting he grab Miles and take him _far_ away from the silver mech, even with Hide hardly knowing the youth. The SIC and TIC's socket was far too close to being a kid for Hide's notorious soft spot not to kick in.

~Sounds good,~ Will nodded and easily made the leap to Ironhide's half-lowered hand and clambered onto his shoulder between the wide, heavy shoulder armor and his head. ~I'll probably want to blow a few things up too.~

~We about to have our first fight, Major?~ Hide grumbled affectionately. ~It's actually overdue. Usually happens right near the end of the honeymoon period, if only for the excuse to have make-up sharing. I actually thought Sarah would fight with me first.~

Will laughed out loud and deeply as he tapped Ironhide's neck for a cable to make talking easier. ~You'll find neither of us are much on the fighting-just-to-make-up,~ he chuckled before going much more serious as his mind went to the darker corners he lived in. ~We never had enough time together to waste on the fighting part. My job now's even more dangerous than it was before. But yeah, we're about to have our first big fight. I want the same kill protocols in my nanites as Miles has.~

Hide, just about to plug into Will's socket, stopped short and quickly shielded the human from the turmoil of reactions he'd otherwise feel through the bond. He did _not_ want Will getting the brunt of rage that was suddenly crossing his processors. Instead he lifted Will from his shoulder to hold him where he could regard him with optics that had suddenly gone almost white.

"You want to do what?" He spoke aloud in a deadly, quiet growl that Will felt vibrate him to the core.

"I want that protection, that promise of a quick, easy death, when there's no hope left," Will met Ironhide's gaze firmly. "I've spent half my adult life carrying around cyanide pills to do the job, including now. This is better."

Ironhide was not about to back down. Will was his socket. Protecting a socket came only second to protecting one's bonded in terms of protection protocols. Logic just wasn't going to enter into the equation, at least yet. He sat down, taking a less aggressive stance and attempting to speak calmly, but only came across as deadly serious.

"Do you honestly think I would let you get into a situation where that was your only option? You should know me better than that by now. _I_ don't allow my sockets to get taken, unlike a certain mech whom I won't let anywhere near your nanites. Do you have any idea what he could _do_ to you?

"I believe 'anything he cares to' covers it, including a complete reformat of my brain," Will said easily. "All of which he could do without any of us knowing if he's even half as good as I think he is. Hide, if a socket can be taken off the beach right under the literal nose of NEST the only way you could even try to protect me, much less Sarah and Annabelle, to that extent would be to never let us off your frame, and that just makes us more of a target when you go into combat."

"Don't tempt me," he grunted, briefly considering bringing up the idea he and Wheeljack had discussed about what could be done should Annabelle be in her carseat in an emergency transformation situation.

He was all too aware that he was already losing the battle, that he had lost as soon as Will brought it up. It was not as though he could _tell_ Will what he could and couldn't do. But slag it if he wasn't going to try. He glared at his socket for a moment in pure annoyance. Why did he always have to pick ones who could face him down and weren't afraid of him? Sarah was twice as bad as Will in that way.

"I'll remind you that there were only two NEST human soldiers present, and not a mech in sight, yet another reason I have to feel very little confidence in my two immediate superiors right now...sending their socket overseas with only two human soldiers to protect him. If _any_ of us had been present, Miles would not have been taken," he finally said, grasping for some leverage in the argument, knowing the slam on the human members of the team was likely to piss Will off and frankly not caring at that point.

"According to Skywarp, that's exactly what happened," Will conceded without issue. "Which means it could have been Sarah going home to visit family. Something I'm not likely to be along for. You're also diverging from the point. This is for when everything's gone wrong, when there is no shred of hope left, and probably when I'm already in a generator. It's about the comfort knowing that if everything goes wrong, death will be quick and clean."

The generator comment rattled Ironhide. He was among the handful who had actually been online during the era when that was the _only_ way to feed one's spark, and had found out through a gruesome demonstration just how horrible the torture of that device was.

"We _still_ could rescue you from a generator, Will," he said more softly. "It has been done. Ratchet could program your nanites to block the pain, send a signal, whatever it took. How can you possibly know when there is _no_ more hope, Will? We do _not_ leave sockets behind."

It was a passionate plea, and it was also a lie, and Hide knew if full well. At least at the beginning of the war, sockets were regularly used as a weapon against those who had claimed them. No small number of mechs had sworn loyalty to Megatron to protect a captured socket from the generator, only to have found themselves broken and reprogrammed by the very mech Will wanted to entrust himself to, their sockets murdered or in the generators nearly as soon as they gave themselves up. Hide had lost one who had been tortured and killed before he could get to her. And he had sworn then that it would _never_ happen again.

"To be blunt, it's not something I'd make the choice on," Will said simply. "I'll never know enough to know if it was hopeless or not. That's not my place in the food chain. You, Jazz, I expect Prowl and Prime would have the codes. I won't even remember the programming's there so I don't fight it when it kicks in. It's to make it easier on me, not harder."

At this Hide literally growled. "I will _not_ have Jazz have the ability to deactivate you, or Prowl for that matter. He is too close to Jazz. Do you understand what he was? What he did? He _broke_ Autobots who gave themselves up to protect their sockets. He was never a loyal 'con. He did it for hire, and from what I've heard, the sheer pleasure of it all. And you would have me trust him with your life? What if he turned on us? No Will! Not now, not ever!" The last statement was roared rather than spoken. Ironhide put down Will far more gently than one would predict considering the reaction, and stalked over to the range to begin slagging every target that had been set, blocking himself from any effort Will might make to connect with the turmoil in his processors.

The Ranger put his hands on his hips and glared after his mech, then sighed and shook his head. "That went well," he muttered, only to head to the human administrative building to get some of the endless paperwork of being a base CO done until Ironhide had calmed down enough to talk.

This was going to be a long battle, and one he'd do well to bring Sarah into sooner rather than later.

For now, though, duty called.

* * *

| Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 |


	44. The Naturalists 10 Homecoming

**Fandom:** Transformers Bayverse  
**Author:** gatekat and femme4jack on LJ  
**Pairing:** Mirage/Hound/Alicia Rodriguez  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Codes:** Het, Slash, Xeno (Transformer/Human)  
**Summary:** When Hound and Alicia are allowed to talk to Mirage, she learns a few more things about her lover and herself.  
**Notes:** Written in the Dathanna de Gray fanverse (tf_socket_fics on livejournal . com)  
"text" any organic language, spoken or translated through the socket  
**"text"** translated Cybertronian.  
::text:: comm/radio chatter  
~text~ bond talk

* * *

****

The Naturalists 10: Homecoming

* * *

"Hey," Jazz stuck his head in the small room Hound and Alicia had been allowed to occupy right next to Mirage's secured isolation chamber. Finally, after two weeks, the silver mech was honestly smiling. "He's awake and cleared for company."

Alicia jumped up and scrambled to quickly look at herself in the mirror and brush out her long hair while Hound looked at her with amusement and a bit of uncharacteristic impatience.

"I took a bath this morning. Hopefully I'm not _too_ oily yet," she murmured, a bit exasperated with her love sick behavior as well. She was wearing the red sun dress Mirage had ordered for her. She'd had one of those gut feelings that morning that she should.

"I seriously doubt he's in a state to care yet," Hound told her and scooped her up for the short walk, a connector cable brushing against her socket in offer.

Alicia quickly plugged herself in to Hound, her body a bundle of nerves. It was as though Mirage's awakening and the prospect of finally seeing him, speaking with him, perhaps connecting with him had finally opened the floodgates for the emotions she had so tightly controlled for the weeks since he'd first left. She knew she was a breath away from losing it, and hated herself for it, wanting to feel solid and stable for both of her lovers, especially now.

"Yeah, his armor's still off," Jazz nodded and showed them to a different room. It looked like another isolation room, but didn't have the security, and did have a second berth that could be pushed close to Mirage's.

~Hey, love,~ Hound reached out with his bond first, and sagged in relief when it was cautiously opened to him. His bonded didn't hurt, thanks to the medical blocks on his pain receptors, but he still ached all over, felt more than a little naked and vulnerable without his armor and knew, even though he couldn't prove it, that the fogginess in his processors was thanks to Jazz and the debriefing.

~My bonded,~ Mirage's response was incredibly formal, his difficulty focusing sending him to rely on the oldest, clearest social protocols he had. "Alicia," he greeted her in warm, formal old Spanish. His weariness, soreness and relief as clearly evident in his voice as it was across the bond. "It is good to see you," he reached out on hand.

Hound stepped close and caught the slender, protoform fingers to kiss them very gently, then placed Alicia on the bed with him so Mirage could touch her.

Being so close to him finally let loose the flood that had been dammed up in the ecologist. "Mirage," she said with a sob, "I thought we had lost you." Tears streaming down her face, her body wracked with sobs, she at first hesitantly and then desperately clung to the hand the came to touch her.

"Shu," he tried to sooth her, extending a cable to connect to the one already in her socket. ~Shu, Alicia. I was never that close to extinguishing,~ he promised, backing up the statement with a small sense of the mech that had faced the torture; a calm, snarky, self-assured Noble SpecOps agent of great experience and no weaknesses.

Alicia continued to sob, but in her mind she focused on pouring her passionate love and devotion into the bright spark that she could feel and see in her mind's eye. She shared with him every prayer she had uttered, her demand of and promise to Hound that they claim her as soon as the spy was well enough, and her intention to use the fullness of her life, strength and love to nourish their sparks and help them safely create the new life they both yearned for.

In return she felt his surprise at the raw intensity of it, of her demand and desires.

~If you are sure,~ he sounded both hesitant and elated as his protoform fingers stroked her gently. ~I would like that very much.~

~I am as certain as I have been of anything in my life. I was certain before this. Getting you back when I feared I'd lost you only makes me more certain. You can look as deeply in me as you wish, to see for yourself.~

She felt him hesitate, though it didn't feel like it was over her willingness. Optics glanced at Hound, who smiled and sat on the edge of the berth to stroke over Mirage's spark chamber.

~Go on, love,~ Hound encouraged him.

With a small nod Mirage turned his full focus on Alicia. ~Ratchet, never mind Prime, will be furious that I go this deep, even with permission,~ he warned her softly.

~I understand. I won't say anything,~ she promised. ~I want you to understand just how sure I am. This is what I am _meant_ to do, my Espejismo. It may sound superstitious and irrational, but I believe something beyond all of us led me to the two of you.~

~There is nothing superstitious or irrational in believing in Primus,~ he brushed against her mind gently, and though he used the name of his God, it carried with it an implicit belief in the existence of other great powers, gods and forces that made even his kind seem like ants scurrying blindly in the sand. ~It is a great honor to have Him pay that much care to you.~

~Your energy resonated to ours even when we first met. It is likely you were meant for us,~ Hound added gently.

Both of their words filled her with warmth, and felt as though her soul was literally swollen with love for them. So many of her peers in the scientific community would have scoffed at her words. To have such ancient beings with more knowledge and memory than all of humanity accept and even affirm what she had said filled her with a sense of awe.

With a bit of surprise, she felt Hound leave the connection, the switch between cables happening so fast her human brain couldn't really track it. Then Mirage was slipping into her mind, activating protocols and programs that were highly illegal by his own awareness. Part of his mind was partitioned, separated from the rest, and a wave of disorientation washed over her as he copied her brain in its entirety to that partition.

The dizziness gave way to an awed sense of amusement at just what it was that Mirage was able to do. ~You copied my brain. My entire brain ... just like that? That is amazing, love.~

~It is simple, and highly illegal, given what else can be done with it now that I have a copy,~ he explained as he began to run sims and other programs, occasionally creating extra copies of her mind to speed up the process. ~What is legal to do with a mech, because we have markers we can trace and a spark to prove which is the original, does not exist with organics, at least not in a way we can detect or analyze.~

~So are you saying that it would be possible to copy an organic mind, and then put it in someone or something else? Or make changes to the original?~ She was not at all afraid, only fascinated. She felt complete trust in Mirage's intentions, though overwhelmed that he could _know_ her so thoroughly.

~Yes, it's even fairly easy if you know what you are doing,~ he gave her a look at some of what he was running through her brain-copy. Her probable reactions to death, injury, mechs - sparklings - taller than she was but with the common sense of a newborn. ~Again, highly illegal, but simple.~

It was humbling, to say the least, to have her mind, her personality, her entire thought process, broken down into something that simply put came down to mathematical formulas and probability.

~Am I really _that_ simple?~ she asked, amused and disturbed all at once.

~Yes and no,~ Mirage responded with an affectionate, supportive brush of his mind. ~You are simple in the same way a Seeker or Prowl is simple. While it's simple to understand them once you grasp their core programming, just as it is simple to understand you once your biology and brain is understood, there are always things that can not be copied or quantified.

~In a mech, those things are put down as 'of the spark', meaning they are what makes that one pre-programmed tactician different from all others brought on line with the exact same code. There is no statement about organics, but 'of the soul', however that is defined by your nature, would be what it is. One can copy and create everything but that spark that makes you _you_.~

She once again was filled with warmth. She continued to watch him effortlessly run countless scenarios and calculations on her own mind, costing him so little even as injured as he was. For the first time, she got a glimpse of just how powerful his processors were, and felt again that surge of desire to nourish the spark that made him who he was.

~So, my love, is my certainty about this something in my mind, or is it of the spark?~

~The faith is of the spark,~ he brushed against her mind affectionately. ~But all the reasons, the reality of your responses to many of the things that may happen, those are of your mind. I know you are sure in your spark. This tells me how you are likely to respond to the sparklings, or to one of our deaths, even a fairly good sense of how long you will survive as a socket.~

She felt cautiously curious. On the one hand, knowing one's likely lifespan or responses to difficult events could be helpful, but the very _knowing_ could change her responses. In the end, curiosity won out.

~I am sure, and it makes sense that it is at the level of my soul. Will you tell me ... what you see?~

~You are likely to bond strongly with any sparklings, but especially strongly with ours, as they will share a similar energy signature to us. While you would do will with other sparklings, I would hesitate to leave you alone with any that are too young. They will take time to comprehend how fragile you are.~

He reached out with his mind to wrap hers in an affectionate embrace. ~You may think you can not live without us, but you will find the strength if you are needed. If not, ask Prowl or Jazz to give you The Final Dance to release your soul from your flesh.~

Tears were running down her cheeks again as Mirage explained what he saw in her, and the obvious knowledge that he could see how close she had been to despair over the last several weeks. She inwardly knew that though it might destroy her, she _would_ have the strength to carry on if they were gone. She was too passionate about life not to...at least until she felt her work was done. The bond he foresaw with their offspring came as no surprise to her. She already felt it to an extent, and they did not even exist yet. It was a relief to know that what she could feel instinctively about herself was not self-delusion, but was written clearly in her mind.

~And what about time, Espejismo. How long will I have to be with the two of you?~

~That has many more variables, since it is dependant on how soon you tire of living,~ he explained gently. ~Your body is, technically, not going to wear out. It is your spark, your strength of life that will eventually fade and refuse to maintain it. If we have a sparkling, you may remain for three millennia or longer. If not, perhaps half that. It is not something to concern yourself with. The more you count the years, the fewer of them there will be.~

~Then I won't count them, because I want to be with both of you as long as I can. Now enough indulging me. What can I do for that spark of yours after what you've been through, my love.~

A wash of desire came from him, but right behind it was a distressing litany of warnings as his systems checked his condition to engage in the activity, advising him solidly against it.

~Ratchet would likely dismantle me if I indulged us,~ Mirage chuckled weakly as he rolled to his side and stroked her hair as he guided her firmly back to rest completely in her own body. ~If Hound pulls that berth over, pleasure each other until neither remember your designations,~ he glanced at his bonded, who grinned and moved to do it.

Opening eyes that she had not even realized were closed, Alicia looked at Mirage adoringly, grasping his large stroking hand with her tiny ones and pressed a kiss into the protoform fingers. ~If you insist, Espejismo, though Ratchet will have to contend with me if he doesn't get you into condition to play with us soon.~

Mirage smiled, an honest, warm show of affection meant only for the two beings in the room. ~You have an advantage on us, being a latina. You've met his socket. He's properly afraid of your kind,~ he chuckled in amusement at the thought of the human women terrorizing the terror of the Autobot ranks.

"Come, pretty one," Hound rumbled as he lay on the berth now pressed against Mirage's. "A double connection, or just to him?"

She gave both mechs a broad smile as she climbed over to Hound. "Well...Mirage _needs_ it more, but if we double connect, it just means I need to feed him twice as often, which is a win win for me."

Hound was on his side, and she moved so that her body was even with his face and kissed his strangely pliant metal lips with her tiny mouth.

~And us,~ Hound grinned across the connection formed when his cable connected to his bonded's even as he kissed her back. ~Don't worry, he'll get all the energy he needs. We can do this with you fully dressed,~ he said, uncertain if she wanted to be naked and fucked in medbay.

~How likely is it that we'd be interrupted? Especially if it becomes apparent what we were doing? I think Mirage would enjoy seeing your spike in me, and that would be worth any embarrassment.~

~Ratchet knew exactly what would happen as soon as he let Jazz show us in,~ Hound chuckled. ~Short of a medical alert, no one will come in for several hours.~

~I would definitely enjoy watching him spike you,~ Mirage added eagerly.

She grinned mischievously and pulled off her sundress, which was all she had on. ~How about we let Mirage tell us exactly what he'd like to see?~

Hound shuddered wordlessly at the idea, briefly looking at his bonded's before focusing fully on Alicia.

~I want to see you on your knees on his chest, your legs spread so his cables can touch everything freely,~ Mirage presented them with visuals to go with the words. ~A cable restraining your hands so all you can do is endure the pleasure he brings you for my strength.~

Alicia felt a delicious shiver run down her entire body at his wish. Hound pulled her up to his chest and she got in precisely the position Mirage had shown her, freely exposing her most intimate part for her injured lover to see and her uninjured one to touch.

A cable slid along her arms, wrapping around her wrists to hold them at the small of her back. Others slid along her legs, caressing, exploring, but also holding in place. Two smaller cables with feathery ends brushed along the slit between the tips of her sex before continuing upwards.

She could already feel Mirage's spark strength as it soaked up her pleasure, eager for more, and she gave her weight completely over to the cables that held her, moaning as every part of her was stroked and explored except for the one part between her legs that she wanted touched.

The feather-tipped cables came up to her breasts, and another, shaped just like a small spike, pressed lightly against her lips.

She ran her tongue along it suggestively before taking it into her mouth. She squirmed as the feather-tipped cables teased her nipples and stroked her full breasts. The rumble of approval came from the mech under her, and she felt the excitement of both of them across the link.

Suddenly Mirage's attention was elsewhere for a split second, and he growled angrily before she felt him shut down something in his systems.

~Ratchet?~ Hound wasn't really guessing.

~Insisted I shut down all subroutines and protocols related to interfacing or he'd shut them down for me,~ the noble grumbled.

~But I can still feed your spark ... it will still bring you pleasure, right?"~ She found herself irritated, yet again, by the medic, who always seemed to find a way to show that he didn't quite trust her lover, even after what he had just gone through for all of them.

~Pleasure, no,~ Mirage shook his head. ~For the same reason I am not fit enough to join you, my systems should not be revved to the point indulging by connection causes. Your pleasure will still feed me, which is why he is not stopping it, but I will not become aroused by it.~

She nodded in understanding. ~Well ... I'll forgive him this time. We don't want to do anything that sets you back.~

~As annoying as it is, that is very true,~ Hound agreed, slowly pumping the spike-cable in and out of her mouth while other cables caressed her thighs, her flanks, her breasts and throat. ~I hope my pleasure will be enough to keep you going. I'm sure he's recording this for later enjoyment.~

~You know I am,~ Mirage added, his mental voice flatter than usual.

She caressed Hound with her affection. ~You _know_ it is, love.~ Her body was quickly becoming roused. She playfully struggled with the cables holding her wrists and squirmed as he continued to brush her sensitive places while deliberately ignoring the most sensitive one. It was dizzying. So was feeling Mirage's hungry spark soaking up the energy was created.

~Good,~ Hound grinned and continued his teasing, cables edging ever closer to her sex without actually touching it.

~It is still enjoyable,~ Mirage added, almost surprised. ~Not arousing, or pleasure, but it does feel good.~

Alicia briefly imagined Ratchet walking in on her in this position, and found that the prospect made her even more excited. She laughed mentally at how hedonistic she had become since meeting these two, and then pouted at the teasing cables.

~You are being a tease,~ she chided playfully.

But even as she pouted, the tantalizingly close brushes of Hound's cables made her squirm shamelessly.

~Pleasure feeds the spark," Hound grinned at her. ~The longer I draw it out, the stronger the orgasm and more desperate you are for it, the more it feeds our Raj.~

~And I do enjoy a good show,~ Mirage added unrepentantly.

~Then tease away. I'm willing to indulge you in the strongest of climaxes for the good of the cause,~ She looked at Mirage, relaxed as he watched. She could feel her slowly growing pleasure flowing into him, making her shiver in anticipation of the blast of alien pleasure she would feel from his hungry spark when she finally did come.

Hound finally slid a cable into the folds of her slick sex, though only just. Just deep enough to heighten the pleasure and make her body ache for more.

Alicia moaned, trying to move herself into the invading cable, only to have his others hold her tight. It was tormenting, in all the best ways.

Trying to figure out some form of ammunition she might have against the onslaught of teasing, she directed her attention to her connection with the mechs, especially focusing on Hound, and concentrated on sending every sexy image she could imagine of the things she wanted to do to both of them, to see them do to one another and to her. She focused especially of her memory of Hound and Mirage in the bath, with her on the side living her own fantasy even as Hound indulged Mirage's, and then of the time Hound told her stories about Mirage while she played with his valve and sucked off his spike, right before they found out Mirage was back.

Hound shuddered, his lust spiking sharply. Even Mirage reacted, though it was more in response to his bonded and the excitement in Alicia feeding his spark.

~Pleasure her,~ Mirage's mental voice was bland even in his excitement. ~Take her with your spike, love.~

Alicia grinned in triumph and continued her mental onslaught, wanting to feel Hound lose a bit of that patient control. She focused on an image of him holding her tight in his large hands, bringing her to his spike and thrusting her onto it while she was unable to move, locked in his grasp.

~Use me, love. You know I enjoy it.~

The large scout shuddered again and reached out to close his hands around her, his cables holding her legs wide as he positioned her above his spike and lowered her on it with the accuracy only scanners could manage.

She was utterly helpless, completely vulnerable, and slowly being speared open by a spike she knew so well. Not far in the background, she could feel Mirage's spark swell as it fed, eager and hungry for her pleasure.

Her cries echoed through the medbay, her head flung back in total ecstasy as she was filled with a spike sized to make her feel utterly impaled. If she hadn't been as slick as she already was, it would certainly have been painful, but as it was, she was stretched to that magnificent point right before pleasure became pain. Hound's sensors showed him exactly how to bring her to that perfect crest, just before climax, and yet not allow her to reach it. Her sounds were almost feral as her own body gorged on her own pleasure as well as the almost unbearably sweet sensation of her life flowing into her lovers sparks. Hound took her slowly, incrementally building speed and strength with each thrust, continuing to keep her at that crest until she was writhing and begging. Three successive hard and fast strokes into her tight heat and she was undone, a wash of bliss cascading through her and to where it was needed the most.

~Yesss,~ Mirage's moan was one of relief, of the pleasure in strength he hadn't felt in too long. Even with his pleasure and interface protocols turned off, there was a distinct pleasure in suddenly feeling better.


	45. Frontliners 2 Mama Bear

**Fandom:** Transformers Bayverse  
**Author:** gatekat and femme4jack on LJ  
**Pairing:** Ironhide/Will Lennox/Sarah Lennox  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Codes:** Slash, Het, Xeno (Transformer/Human)  
**Summary:** Even in a world filled with giant robots, no one crosses a mamma bear.  
**Notes:** Written in the Dathanna de Gray fanverse http: / community .livejournal .com /tf_socket_fics  
"text" any organic language, spoken or translated through the socket  
**"text"** translated Cybertronian.  
::text:: comm/radio chatter  
~text~ bond talk

* * *

****

Frontliners 02: Mamma Bear

* * *

For being in the middle of the Indian Ocean, the evening was reasonably pleasant. Still hot and humid, but the ocean breeze was a nice relief. So Will and Sarah Lennox were relaxing with a beer each on the front porch of the stand-alone home that was their shared quarters with Ironhide.

"What's on your mind?" Sarah asked patiently after she'd given him what she deemed a suitable amount of time to bring it up on his own.

Will chuckled a bit and took a swig of his beer. "You know me entirely too well. How much do you know about the current stink with Jazz and Miles Lancaster?

"Hmmm, not much. Only what Hide let leak through the bond - that he is pissed as hell at Jazz, and even Prowl to some extent, and it has something to do with Miles. We shared yesterday, while you were on duty, and I felt the tension in him, but he didn't want to talk about it. He was in a decidedly physical mood and wanted some distraction," she explained, totally comfortable in the new aspect of the relationship the three of them shared.

"What Jazz did was program the nanites in Miles will kill protocols similar to what his agents have," he began to explain. "A near-instant death if they're activated. It all came up because Miles was captured by Skywarp. We got him back and he'll be fine, but somewhere it came out what Jazz added to the nanite programming. Jazz didn't ask Miles, but if you know what's coming, it turns from a quick death to being aware as your body is taken apart cell by cell. For Hide, it was a last straw. I don't think he's ever liked, much less trusted Jazz, because of what he used to do. That would have been the rage you felt last week."

Sarah chewed on the information for a few moments. She had been a Ranger's wife for going on ten years, and had been on the support side of special operations when she'd met him. She knew very well what Will and other black ops agents had carried with them, and suspected that her husband still did so on his missions.

Sarah happened to like Jazz and his bondmate, at least from afar. The obvious deep love and affection they had for each other was a lovely contrast to the stuffy, restrained military attitudes toward sexuality.

"I can see doing that for agents," she mulled, not coming to any instant judgment, "but why a civilian like Miles? What could he possibly know that would be a threat? I'd hope Prowl and Jazz protect him from information that could bring them or the kid to harm, right? Just like you do with Annie and I."

Will sighed. "It's not what he could know, at least not for Jazz. I know that's why most think of doing it, but up against the Cons ... it's a final mercy, a last gift of a painless death when there's no hope for rescue left. Our idea of a life in some backwater prison and daily torture is nothing compared to the fate of any organic captured by the Cons. We end up in the generators for a literal eternity of agony to fuel their sparks."

Sarah took another swig of beer and cuddled in closer to lean, strong man she had married.

"So Jazz left that option for Miles, if nothing could be done to spare him, and didn't ask because if Miles had known about it the death would have been horrible rather than painless?" she sorted through the facts methodically, thinking of her own reactions as a mother. She'd do the same for Annabelle if there was no hope left.

"That's the sum of it," he nodded.

"And Hide is angry why? It makes perfect sense to me. I'd want that." She was quiet for a few moments, absentmindedly running the fingers of one hand through Will's hair. "Was Miles upset?" she finally asked.

"I'm not sure," Will admitted. "I didn't see him those first couple days. But yesterday Miles seemed his usual self and from what I saw of his interactions with Jazz, he's been forgiven. Those three do have an amazingly strong bond. As for Hide, I think it's a consent thing, Miles being relatively young and a civilian. What pissed Hide off this morning was when I told him I wanted the protocols for myself. That was bad enough. But he _really_ flipped out because Jazz would be involved."

"So that's why he has been shutting me out all day," she sighed, kneading her fingers into Will's tight and shoulders neck. "I can only guess what he said. Something along the lines of him never allowing you to get in that kind of situation, regardless of the fact that when you are both on mission, you have to put those objectives before your bond. What does Hide have against Jazz, anyhow?"

"I'm sure 'former 'Con' is part of it, but given Hide's bedding Drift, I'd say it's more that Jazz was born to be Black Ops. At least according to Hide, he broke and reprogrammed Autobots more for the fun of it than because he had orders. By Jazz's telling, it's true. I can't even begin to grasp Jazz's life though. As he tells it, Prima was the first of seven Primes, and he danced with her at her coronation. He's from the fifth generation of Cybertronians, back when their entire population wasn't much larger than the number of mechs on Earth now. He's seen so many social changes ... it hurts my brain to think about how he could still function in their current society.

"But what he really said was that he's spark-bonded four times now, even knowing after the first one that he'd outlive anyone and anything he could ever care about. But he still pursued Prowl and let himself care again. Hide doesn't trust him, but I do, for the time it'll matter. It's not like he has to remain an Autobot for longer than Miles will live to be trustworthy for my lifetime, or yours or Annabelle's."

"Jesus, Will," Sarah said, shaking her head. "Blows my mind. It's like we are talking about some sort of mythology come to life. But then again, who would have thought a couple of Midwesterners like us would somehow end up married to a gigantic walking weapon who dotes on our daughter so much she is doomed to grow up thinking she really is a princess?"

She took another long drink of her beer, suddenly very much needing the buzz.

"So you feel like Jazz is trustworthy as long as he is bonded to Prowl, because Prowl is loyal?"

"Because Prowl balances him," Will shook his head, abruptly trying to find the words to explain. "You've seen how out of touch with 'normal' morals I can get from just a few months out on a mission, and you don't see me until I've chilled out a fair bit. Deep in 'survival and my goal is all that matters' mindset is Jazz between bondmates. With one, Prowl for us, it's like what you do for me. A reminder that people are real, not just a target, and the nicer emotions are a good thing. And part of it's that Hide has a personal grudge against Jazz from what I gathered. I think he lost friends to him as a Con, maybe even a socket."

"But love," Sarah cautioned, "you've never been one of the bad guys. And you've never broken people just for pleasure. I think I can see Hide's point of view on this one. I agree with what you want to do, but putting so much trust in someone who may very well have tortured and killed sockets and definitely broke mechs for fun? Can that ever be balanced?"

"Fully, no, I doubt it," he acknowledged. "The thing is that he's the only one who's probably developed the protocols, and I expect the only one who would even consider it. Well, Whiplash and a couple others probably use them too, but I expect they all came from what Jazz made. I'm pretty sure that Ratchet would edit the kill-command so Jazz can't use it anymore. He'd throw a fit, but he'd do it. Maybe it'd be good if you talked to Jazz about it, about him. I know I trust him, from one op to another, but you've got good instincts for people too."

"I definitely need to talk with him, and I'd honestly feel a whole lot better if it were Ratchet doing the programming and not Jazz. No one has a doubt about Ratchet's loyalties, and it may be the only thing that gets Hide to agree. But I want it ... for all three of us. I knew Belle and I could be targets even before the whole energizer bunny bit came up. And as safe as I feel here, Miles getting taken only made it too clear how easy it would be for them to start taking us, and we know how quickly a war can change. Who knows when more 'Cons might show up and things start getting really bad? But yeah, I'll talk with Jazz, and Hide. I think that conversation needs a woman's touch, frankly."

Sarah wrapped her arms around Will's neck, pulling him in for a fairly desperate kiss, her body giving away her inner agitation even if her words remained calm. It was a mood and a contact he responded quickly to, pulling her into his arms and pushing her back against the bench swing to shield her in some symbolic way.

When the kiss broke he pressed his forehead against hers in an intimate gesture picked up from the 'Bots. "I just don't want any chance the Cons could break the nanite code and deactivate it. I have no doubt Jazz can manage that. I'm not so sure if Ratchet is that good."

* * *

The next morning Sarah made arrangements for Annabelle to spend some time with another base wife and her children. She sat in their air conditioned quarters, escaping the sweltering heat of the day, getting her thoughts together. That she was distracted was an understatement. She couldn't think of anything other than the conversation she'd had with Will the night before. Even after they'd made love and gone to bed, she couldn't sleep. She envied her husband's ability to sleep anywhere, any time he needed to - a function of the times when he did not have the luxury of any rest at all. She was worried about the tension with Ironhide. Not since Will's first rather extreme reaction to intimacy with the weapons specialist had there been any real conflict. She trusted Will's instincts, but she also trusted Hide with her life and more importantly, with Annabelle's.

Giving a heavy sigh, she used the email function of her socket and sent a message to the command office requesting an appointment with the SIC.

Within seconds a reply came that he could meet her in at 19:00 in his office.

Jazz messaged her a moment later, before she could even accept it, saying that if it wasn't about confidential information he was in the holo-training room and could talk when she got there, or in his office later.

She quickly messaged him back, thanking him for the appointment, and stating that the matter was indeed confidential. She noted that both Will and Ironhide were on duty that evening, so she would need to find out if anyone was available to watch Annabelle before she could confirm.

"The joys of being a mom and trying to make appointment," she muttered. On the one hand she was anxious to have the conversation over with. On the other hand the topic had her so anxious that part of her preferred to simply go play with her daughter and forget it had ever come up.

Jazz e-mailed her suggesting Alicia and Hound. The happy distraction would do them good since Mirage was still in isolation, and they were planning to try for a sparkling.

Sarah's mouth twisted into a smile at that. She had not expected Jazz to make childcare suggestions, and it was, honestly, one she would never thought of, but made a great deal of sense. Annabelle would be thrilled to spend time with another Autobot, and she had heard many positive things about both the mech in question and the socket he shared with Mirage. Her email to the two was answered almost instantly with a great deal of enthusiasm, suggesting that they would watch Annabelle at the Lennox's quarters where the girl would be most comfortable.

Sarah spent the rest of the day trying to put the whole issue out of her mind, a good part of it playing with Annabelle on the beach, but she was still distracted. She reached out to Ironhide several times and received affectionate if distant brushes in reply, but did not see him all day. Will was tied up as well, having been called in on some matter during the afternoon when he was supposed to be off duty. He did not join them for dinner. Shortly after dinner, Hound and Alicia arrived to a very hyper and excited three-year old. Thanking them profusely, she made her way to Jazz's office in the command center, pressing the button at her height to announce her arrival.

"Com'n!" Jazz's voice sounded cheerful, but after a decade married to a Ranger, she was utterly certain that it was at least half faked. The door opened on its own, and Jazz was on the other side, already knelt down to offer her a hand up.

Sarah gave Jazz a warm smile of her own. Generations of Minnesota-nice breeding made it as natural to her as her Nordic looks. There were many times, both when she had served in the military and after, when people did not realize the sharp mind and fierce tempter that could lie underneath the smile and genuine sweetness.

"Thanks for fitting me in today," she said, accepting his help to his desk where she sat comfortably. "I know we haven't ever had much of an occasion to talk, so this is a little strange for me," she admitted.

"I must admit I'm half surprised ol'Hide hasn't barged in demanding to be here," he chuckled with an easy grin and teasing humor that covered the seriousness of the statement. "What can I do for'ya?"

"Hide doesn't know I'm here, Jazz," she admitted. "Though I have no intention of keeping him in the dark. I'm not one to mince words. Will told me about the SpecOps protocols in Miles' nanites, and about how you could do that for us and make us forget it happened. We both want it, for ourselves and Annabelle. Will is having a hell of a time convincing Hide, and he hasn't even mentioned Belle or me yet. I'm not naive, Jazz. Even before your lot showed up, she and I could've been targets considering what Will got up to. I was on the support side of the Rangers when I served."

She didn't go on, wanting to gauge his reaction to her initial words.

"Legally, I'm clear as long as Prime or the CMO witnesses your agreement in writing," Jazz said carefully. "Usually the second or third in command would also be acceptable, but given who they are in this situation, that's not going to hold true. Since it's Hide, I'm going to insist he be there as witness too, for my own protection. Since you didn't tell him, I'm sure you're aware of the tension between us right now."

"Hide hasn't told me a thing, but Will said enough. That's why I'm here, honestly. I'm married to a man who trusts you, Jazz. I'm the socket to a mech who doesn't want you anywhere near our heads or nanites because of what you apparently did to mechs and sockets early in the war. So I'm torn. Will doesn't believe Ratchet could do as good of a job with the programming."

Sarah looked down, suddenly finding it difficult to ask what she really needed to.

"He can't," Jazz said simply. "He's good, but you'd probably have better luck convincing Hide than Hatchet," he chuckled a bit at some joke. "As for trusting me," he cocked his head a bit and regarded her. "Hide's never trusted me, I don't expect he ever will and I don't blame him either. I broke several of his close friends, tortured folks to death and worse that were very dear to him. I made no secret of it at the time and I still don't deny it. Or the fact that I reveled in what Megatron paid me very well to do. It's all true."

He shifted, putting his elbows on the desk and folding slender fingers under his chin as he looked at her pretty much optic band to eyes. "That was all before I met Prowl, well before I bonded with'm. I'm not sure I can even begin to explain what bonding does to a mech like me. Hide's never bonded, never committed on that level. He's been told what it does, he's had a small taste with sockets, but he doesn't _know_ what trading part your very life force with another, laying your entire existence, your desires, your fears, your base programming open 'n unguarded to another does to you. Not just once, but every time you're really intimate. Four-five times a week when I'm on base."

It was Sarah's turn to regard the silver mech, her eyes not shifting from his visor. She studied him hard, while a dozen questions went through her mind. She was surprised when the next words that came out of her mouth weren't any of them.

"Did you let yourself get caught by the Autobots? I mean, from what I hear, folks around here think there isn't anywhere you can't get into or get back out of."

"It's truth," Jazz smirked before settling in a bit more. "But for how it started, Megatron told me there was a new mech to break. He wanted the contents of the mech's memory banks, then have the mech so badly shattered that there would be no recovery for the Autobots. Standard request. I either got ones they wanted for intel and destroyed, or wanted broken and reprogrammed."

Sarah calmly regarded him, not allowing the carelessness with which he spoke about such a thing get to her. She knew he had been a 'Con, and thanks to Will, knew what he had done. She was prepared to be appalled and deal with it. But to trust the mech he was now, she realized that needed to understand how the change had happened, and 'bonded with Prowl', as amazing as the process sounded, just didn't cut it for her. _Something_ caused him to get himself caught, or at least not escape once he was, even if it was as simple as boredom. She knew how restless those in ops were, how they had to be adrenaline junkies by their very nature.

"So I walked in and this one was _different_. I couna read'm. I worked him, hacked in, talked, everything for three metacycles, about eighteen years. He kept ahead of me, never once let me figure him out or break in," Jazz shook his head and chuckled to himself. "Towards the end my own loyalties betrayed me. I wasn't in it for Megatron or his credits and energon any more. I _needed_ to break this creature that had denied me for so long. So when Megatron ordered him destroyed because I'd taken too long, I contacted his side and broke him out, delivered him to the pickup point. After I handed 'm to 'is friends ... that was the moment I knew I was fragged. Not because I'd just torqued off Megatron beyond redemption, but because when he extended a hand and said 'come' ... I did."

"Prowl?" she asked quietly, though the answer seemed obvious. She settled into a more relaxed position, legs stretched out in front of her, her hands behind her supporting her.

"Yeah, Prowl," Jazz chuckled. "When we landed, I walked myself to the brig, staid there cause 'e asked me to," his voice dropped a bit. "Lookin back, it's obvious what was happening, but I didn't see it, not for I long time. Don't get me wrong, I tormented the fraggers to no end. Things from one'a their own'd be I practical joke, but from the Terror of Cybertron, the Breaker of Mechs, from the Con locked up in the brig, from _me_, it was something more."

"In other words, you made it damn clear that you were only being held because you were allowing it." She said with a laugh. "Ok...I get that you were fascinated by him, not being able to break him and all, but I'm not sure I get what he saw in someone who took sparks for fun. No offense."

"None taken," Jazz smiled at her. "At least in those first few vorns he saw me as a combination of valuable asset to turn and someone that as long as I was kept occupied with him I wouldn't be out taking Autobots off the field. He did I good job too. Kept me very fixated on'm. But he slowly gave me perks too, rewards for good behavior," his laugh this time was anything but in good humor as he relived a bit of how completely he'd responded as a starved puppy to the promise of treats. "Then ... after a mission went really bad, I found out why I couldn't figure him out. Something I shoulda known, shoulda figured out, but I didn't.

"In my world, you know a secret, especially _the_ secret, someone holds, and ya own them," he continued, working on the assumption that while intelligent and the mate of an op, she didn't understand the true fundamentals of Intel. "So I knew Powel's secret." He paused and focused on the claw tips tapping semi-randomly in front of his optic band. "I shoulda left. If I had any bit of self-preservation left then, I would've. Took me vorns to work out, that he'd gone past a pet project and become something more, but right then I made another of those stupid moves because 'e was there an' lookin' at me.

"I offered ... told'm really ... that ah'd teach'm how to control it, steada it control'n 'im. That I wouldn't have anyone so weak linked to my capture. Excuses, the lot of it, an I shoulda known it. He wasn't exactly my first, ya know. Fourth time, and it always blindsides me," Jazz shook his head and sighed. "Where I am now, I can see the pattern in my life. I fall for those who are strong and steady enough to balance me. Not just my fluid nature, but the darkest places that a manipulative base code takes you.

"So I fall in love, bond, live for their lifetime as a relatively stable, socially responsible mech. When their spark extinguishes and returns to Primus the pain has me lash out, to inflict my pain and loss on anyone who seems too happy. Eventually the pain fades, but it leaves me without ties to society and I'm the mech Hide hates so much. Eventually I come across another mech that can balance me and start the cycle over again."

Sarah sat up, and for the moment, did not meet the visor so close to her as she considered his words. Mythic didn't come close to describing the cycle Jazz described to her, and yet something about it seemed all too simple, as well. Sarah wasn't a traditionally religious woman, for all that she had been raised a good Lutheran girl. But she believed that there were powers in the universe even more powerful than a seemingly immortal Cybertronian. She knew that if she were writing the myth, the mech in front of her would not find peace until somehow he did not turn back into the sociopath when his bonded died. Of course, many myths did not have a happy ending, but instead ended in some eternity of following the same pattern, over and over again. But that was myth.

"I'm not sure I believe in unbreakable cycles, Jazz," she finally said. "But regardless, it seems like as long as Prowl is alive, my family is safe trusting you. The problem for me is that life, even for your kind, is fragile, and we're at war. Prowl could be with you long after my kind are but a memory. Or he could be gone while Annabelle is still a girl. You never know what is coming in life, that's why I want to do this for my family. But for that same reason, I can't trust you to do it, because you never know what tomorrow is going to bring, and there's no guarantee that you won't become the sociopath you describe while we are still alive."

"No, there isn't," he agreed, apparently accepting her statement without issue. "I have my hopes, maybe even a little faith that Primus wouldn't have me come back with only a handful of vorns left for him, but in the end, those aren't things I can control. Is there anything else you need to know?"

Sarah felt wrenched by uncertainty. She had hoped the conversation would make it easier for her to decide, give her the arguments that she could make to Hide, or to Will. Instead she was left with the bitter truth that always seemed to threaten her with despair: she could not protect those she loved, not from everything, and not from the most important things. She sighed and shook her head.

"Yeah ... yeah there is. Tell me something, Jazz. You could do whatever the hell you wanted, to any of our nanites, any time, couldn't you? I mean, Hide is so worried about you doing something that you could have already done if you wanted to. Am I right about that?"

"Yes," he nodded, his voice that kind of even that spoke of both his pride in it and that it was such a basic reality it wasn't about bragging anymore. "There isn't a human or mech in the army I couldn't do anything I wanted to to," he paused. "'Cept Prowl."

Sarah began laughing and shaking her head, relaxing again. "Well, Jazz, that was probably the question I should've asked you in the first place. Not that I regret hearing the rest of it. Since trusting you with this doesn't put us in any more danger than we already are in, I don't see any reason not to trust you with it. Not that it will be an easy argument to make to Hide."

"Hide'll point out that there is a difference in 'what happens if Jazz snaps' between whether I happen to know your kill-codes and if I have to go find them," he cracked a grin at her. "The question I'd ask is which is more important to you: having the codes written by someone who's can make them unhackable, or having them written by someone who is extremely unlikely to betray Hide. Ratchet, if you can convince him, is quite skilled. He's just not as skilled as I am."

Sarah regarded him for a moment. "Or we could figure out a third option. I've never been one to accept either or scenarios, Jazz, but that isn't something to figure out tonight. First I have to use my feminine wiles on Hide and see if I can get him to even consider this. He is going to absolutely freak about Annabelle. I doubt he believes there is _anything_ he can't protect her from." She shook her head, her love and affection for the weapons specialist written clearly on her face.

"So tell me," She suddenly changed the topic, " how's Miles doing? Will seems to think the kid needs some sort of surrogate parents." Sarah looked at Jazz with interest as she mentioned his socket. She had been baffled by the choice. The kid had seemed so very young to her, fun loving and talented in his own way, but not someone she would have guessed was ready to be claimed.

"He's recovering well. I'm sure he'll have flashbacks now and then, but he's really amazingly adaptable. He's very much the kind of individual I'd snap up for an Op if he was Cybertronian," Jazz's tone told her as much as his words about just how much saying that meant from him. "As for surrogate parents, Prowl and I both agree that he'd do well to have a human to look to and he could do far worse than you and Will. He had to grow up far too fast, though details are for him to tell if he wants to."

Sarah nodded. "Sometimes it's nice to be with someone that you can just be a kid with. I really wish we _could_ have all three of your over, if only for my endless fascination with watching bonded pairs interact. But I doubt Hide would do very well with that right now. I could wait until he was on a mission, but that would be deceptive and I'm just not going to do that to him. It wouldn't be right. For now, it will need to just be Miles."

"You're welcome to invite him," Jazz told her with an easy smile. "Trust me, I _do_ understand Hide, probably better than he understands 'imself. Oh, and a tidbit for ya if he gets in a _really_ fowl mood. Got word today that Chromia's cadre's comin' in."

Sarah perked up at that, suddenly tremendously excited. "Really? And he doesn't know yet? He hasn't told us _much_ about her, but from what he has ... well ... I'm guessing things are about to get even steamier than they have been for the old guy, and for us by extension."

"Oh yeah, those two are as frisky as any, includin' me 'n Prowl," his optic band flashed with his grin. "Best descrip of Chromia is a smaller Hide that prefers a bow to cannons. Those two on the battlefield can take down Megatron if they're haven a good orn."

She gave Jazz her easy, genuine smile. "Thanks for talking with me. It helped ... a lot. I'm sorry we're putting you in an awkward position with Hide."

Jazz shook his head and stood. "You didn't do anything. I did that to myself. It's not like Hide ever really _liked_ me." He offered her his hands. "I've proven myself as an Intel Op, as a field commander and my ability to get things done anywhere, anytime. But I'm one former Con he's not going to completely forgive. Give it a vorn and he'll settle down, just like the general base fervor will die down in another week or two. This isn't the first time news of my unconventional tactics has gotten out to the general population. It's unlikely to be the last."

Sarah climbed easily into his hands, relaxed and certain that she could trust the mech Jazz was _now_. That he could become something so very different bothered her to no end, if only because he seemed to imply that the change was outside of his control, or, perhaps that he chose not to control it. Sarah was an absolute believer in free will, that in all situations there was some element of choice, if only the choice of what one did in response to their rage, grief or pain. But then again, what did she know? She was just a mere mortal. She thanked Jazz again and turned toward the door, before suddenly turning back around.

"Is Primus good, Jazz? Does he love what he's made?"

That seemed to give him pause. "He and His kind are beyond good an evil," he said quietly. "Primus is a force of creation. His brother is a force of destruction. Both are needed, nether good or evil. I believe He loves us in the same way that Hound loves organics. He loves and protects us as a species. The fate of any individual, no matter how favored for a time, is of minimal importance in the long run."

Sarah nodded thoughtfully, not sure how to respond. Jazz was in far better of a position to know than she was. She looked down at her feet, and finally started speaking quietly.

"When I was a little girl, Annabelle's age, there was one thing I thought I knew for certain about God, because it's what my parents told me every day. That he loved me and loved everything he'd made. I didn't think much more about it. I just was happy, lived on this wonderful farm surrounded by beauty, parents that loved me. There was really never anything to make me question it. I know that I'm damn lucky that way."

"I didn't stay religious. I liked the stuff they taught, but to be honest, church was boring and I didn't need to be religious to believe in a force of love. When I had Annabelle, it changed from an abstract belief to something as real as her little hands and feet. Right after she came out, the first time she was on my chest, I felt like I touched something so big and beyond me it took my breath away, and what I felt was love - that something loved me, loved her, loved everyone and that I couldn't even begin to understand the depth of it. It was the most beautiful thing I've ever felt in my life, even more wonderful than when Will and I make love in Hide's hands. I knew that all I really wanted in life was to love Will and Belle and now Hide with even a sliver of what I felt that day. I don't really know what it meant, or if I was just deluding myself and my hormones were doing their work on my brain to make me bond with her. Not sure I really care."

Jazz knelt to face her again. "I know about being a mother," he spoke softly but evenly. "I've been a carrier twice, back before giving birth was outlawed. I was co-creator, the father, of three others. There is something of the divine in new life, of making something completely new out of nothing but energy. I may know it, because I knew those who asked Primus for that ability, but I knew it here," he tapped his chest. "Long before I thought to ask them. Much less Him."

She paused, wiping tears that threatened to start spilling. "I want to do this for Annabelle because I love her so much and I know I won't always be there to protect her. At least I can give her this. I hope I'm making the right decision, Jazz, to trust you. Because it's my little girl we're talking about. You all may think we can't possibly love like you can when you bond, and maybe you're right. But having a kid, having a baby who was part of my own body and fed from me and is utterly dependent on me - I'd do anything for her. Anything to give her a life where she can stay innocent as long as she can, and even after she loses that, she can continue to love and trust. I think all children deserve that, whether they are your kind or mine. I hope your Primus knows what he's doing."

"Children do deserve a chance, but for Primus ... He hasn't been in control since He gave His first children the ability to make children of their own," Jazz actually sighed, a trace of how world-weary he felt at moments leaking through. "It's not unlike what the Christian God is said to be like. He may have a plan, but free will was more important than control."

Sarah nodded, and wiped her eyes again, taking a breath to steady herself. "I've long thought it was pretty much up to us - that the force, the power of love is there, but it is all about our choice whether we want to be a part of acting on those impulses. If you've been a mom, if you've carried life inside you, then I'll trust you, Jazz. May not be a very rational reason to, because for the life of me, I can't fathom how someone who created and carried new life like you have could also destroy it just for enjoyment. To protect, to try to save others? I can understand, but not the other." She gave him a weak smile, and then turned to go.

Only the door didn't open for her.

"Because I was raised to be a killer, to do what I did for Megatron and enjoy it," Jazz told her as he stood. "The sociopath came first. I learned how to love much later. It's never been a comfortable fit, even if I stopped fighting it," he explained before opening the door. "I ... can give the basic coding to Ratchet, or whoever you choose. Red Alert's a good choice. He's the only mech I know of that can write code as difficult to hack as mine."

"Thanks Jazz," she whispered, somehow knowing that sharing the code with others was no small thing. "I think that is the _only_ way I could convince Hide, and I don't want this to come between us. He is going to be angry about it. But the less he has to be angry about, the better. I ... I don't know what to say about how you were raised, what you were made to be, other than I'm thankful that you learned how to love and it's not the _only_ thing you've known. And maybe it goes without saying, but I think you were right to do what you did with Miles. Maybe there was a better way to do it, but I believe you were trying to protect him. There are things I'd do for my family the same way, without a second thought, to protect them."

She gave him a last, pondering look and then headed back to her quarters.

* * *

Sarah Lennox watched Ironhide play hide and seek with Annabelle the next afternoon, delighting in the highly domestic scene and softer side of their mech. Not for the first time, she couldn't stop the quiet snicker at the thought of what any boys would be facing when she grew up. It wasn't as if an Army Ranger for a father wasn't scary enough, now there was the family mech to be vetted by as well.

The towheaded three year old was giggling from her all-too obvious hiding place behind the gigantic couch that was part of the furnishings of the mech-sized portion of their new quarters. Annabelle's influence could be seen throughout the living area - everything from scattered toys and books to crayon drawings, nearly all of which featured a large black figure or vehicle, regardless of whichever favorite theme the drawings portrayed (she had recently moved from princesses to ponies).

"Annabelle, Ironhide is going to hear you if you keep giggling like that," Sarah called out with a laugh.

"Shhhhhh mommy, don't tell where I am!" came a bright voice from behind the gigantic sofa.

Sarah glanced towards Ironhide, who wasn't even trying to hide the bemused grin as he 'searched' for her in all the places she wasn't.

"Sarah, are you looking forward to seeing what young Cybertronians are like?" he asked as he continued his search for the giggling girl.

"Looking forward doesn't even begin to describe it." She smiled. "I just wish I didn't have to wait so long. That is just a cruel pregnancy from a human point of view. Who do you suppose is going to be the first among the grounders?"

A little squeal came from the hiding spot when Hide happened to walk by, still not 'finding' the little girl.

"Prowl, I expect," he grunted, not amused to be reminded of Jazz. "Hound and Starjumper will be trying soon too. Blacksnap and Convergence if Blaster agrees to it." He paused as he looked under the human-sized table. "Though I guess Sonic and Convergence aren't grounders, even if they're symbiots to one. I know Inferno will want to, but getting Red to agree might not happen anytime soon."

Sarah could have kicked herself for bringing up Prowl and Jazz, despite the conversation topic naturally leading toward them.

"So do sparklings play hide and seek?" she asked with a wink, steering the topic in a new direction.

Before he could answer, Annabelle called out, "Find me, Hidey! I'm right here!"

The big mech chuckled and with the grace that amazed her every time she witnessed it, swooped in and snatched Annabelle from behind the mech's couch.

"Oh, they definitely do," Hide grinned and gently tossed the little girl in the air and caught her. "Far more advanced and serious than our little Belle, but they play all the skill-development games."

Annabelle screamed and giggled outrageously as Hide gently tossed her about twice her own height. "Again, again, again, Hidey!"

Sarah's face lit up in a huge grin watching them. Annabelle trusted the huge mech completely. There had been times to Sarah's horror that the precocious little girl simply stepped off his hand, _knowing_ he would catch her. He had scolded her for those attempts, but always indulgently.

"Belle, it's time for you nap," Sarah called to the little girl even as Ironhide continued tossing her. She looked the size of a mouse in his great hands.

"I want to sleep on Hidey's seat!" She demanded.

"Not today, pumpkin. Mommy and Ironhide have things to do while you nap. He can't be stuck in his altform when you have a perfectly good bed in your room."

Ironhide raised an optic ridge as he knelt and handed the little girl to her mother, but kept his questions quiet for now.

"But I want to sleep in Hide!" the three year old wined, showing just how tired she was.

"Maybe he can give you a ride later, sweetie, if you take a good nap now. Come on, mommy will read you a story."

Annabelle continued to pout as Sarah carried her into the human sized portion of their quarters and put the little girl to bed. Hide had tired her out well. She fell asleep before Sarah had even read a page.

Returning to the living area, Sarah brushed against the black mech's complex pedes even as her mind brushed against his seemingly bottomless consciousness. ~Can we cuddle for a bit and just talk?~ she asked.

~Of course,~ he picked her up and cradled her against the thick armor of his chest before walking over to the mech sized couch and sitting down. Despite keeping his questions to himself, she could feel the intense curiosity and concern when she pressed against his awareness.

"You tired her out well," she commented, settling in to his lap, her fingers tracing circles and designs along his complex joint and armor where his leg met his torso. "But she'd sleep on your front seat every time if you let her."

"I like her there," he smiled down and stroked Sarah's back gently. "I know she's safe."

"I like her there, too, big guy," she patted the armor on his massive thigh and settled in even more comfortably, willing herself to be relaxed. "So, you aren't going to be happy with me. I had a talk with Jazz last night, 'bout Will among other things. I had a lot of reservations about what Will wanted to do, and needed to figure out for myself if I could even consider trusting the mech to do it. I know you don't, and have every reason not to, but I've never been one to let others make my opinions for me, love. I'm stubborn as hell that way."

"I've noticed," he rumbled deeply, pleased that at least she didn't trust Jazz right off. "What did you decide?"

"That the issue is complicated as hell," she sighed. "I decided that there is no way to decide about him. He is a living, walking contradiction. A sociopath in the worst sense of the word, but also someone who loves completely, has given birth literally and understands of my love for my family, and for right now, is totally needed by our side and won't betray us as long as Prowl is alive. I think that he believes he is caught in a cycle he has very little control over - that his base programming is that of a black ops sociopath who relishes what he does to break others, but then he finds someone who balances the worst parts of him, bonds, changes. When he finally loses his bondmate, instead of dying, strikes out in grief and becomes the sociopath again. I personally believe he has more choice in the matter than he admits, and maybe he knows that, but chooses to revert back to what he originally was because in some insane way it eases the pain of a life that has been way too long."

She paused for a moment, considering her words, her hand absentmindedly caressing the sensuous v-shape of the armor at his thighs. "I believe he genuinely cares about Miles, that what he did was to protect him from a fate far worse than death should there ever be a point that the kid couldn't be otherwise rescued, because Jazz has been a fate worse than death for others and knows what it means. I want to be able to do the same for Will. But, the good news is, I don't have to trust Jazz to do it. He said he'd give the code to Red Alert or to Ratchet if we asked."

She looked up at the ancient, battle-worn face she loved to gauge his feelings. The tightness there spoke of the gut reaction that made him miss much of what she'd said.

"You _want_ Will to have that coding?" Ironhide finally managed to grate out in a combination of denial, shock and absolute horror.

She gave the mech a patient look and took a deep breath. "I do, Hide. I've always known that Will could get himself into situations where his fate could be worse than death, before we even met you or knew that the dangers he faced daily were trivial compared to what was coming. He has always carried cyanide pills on missions, and I'm pretty sure he still does, but if he were in the hands of the 'cons, they'd find those before he ever had a chance to use them. He goes on missions on a regular basis that he might never come back from, but if there is one thing I fear more than his death, it is that he'd be captured and spend what remained of his life being tortured, or worse yet, in a generator on some distant world or ship where we could never get him back before there was nothing of his mind left except for pain. I've read the history, Hide. I know that only one species was ever successfully rehabilitated from the generators, and even then, it was only those who had been there a vorn or less. I want him to have it _because_ I love him and don't want him to ever face that fate."

"I'd _never_ let him be captured," the old warrior raged, though he somehow kept his lower frame still where she was perched. "A vorn is a long time too, when you've got somebody out to get you back."

"A vorn is a very long time, love, and only one species out of thousands was able to handle it even that long, and even in that case, only a small number of individuals. And think about it ... a normal human life span is about a vorn. Would you really ask Will to live in that kind of agony, worse than any torture human beings can devise, for even five years waiting for rescue? I wouldn't. It would selfish of me."

"He'd make it, and he'd be rescued..."

She turned on his thigh so she could face him, meet his optics high above her as he gazed down at her with the pained look of having been betrayed. If it was this hard for him to understand Will's need for the code, how would he react to her and Annabelle? She internally shuddered at the thought.

"I believe you, Hide," she continued softly, soothingly. "If you had any choice in the matter at all, you'd not let him be captured or you'd rescue him. But what if the whole reason he was captured was because you died or were too injured to prevent it? I know the chances of that are minute, but can you really promise that could never happen? And aside from that, you are not always going to be on the same mission as Will. You are both officers, and you both have to put the good of the mission over one another. If you hadn't shown you could do that, Prime wouldn't send either one of you in."

Optics shuttered and a deep venting sigh escaped him. "I'm not sure why I even argue. He'll do it, and you'll both keep at me until I just deal with it. I'm _never_ going to like it being there and Jazz will _not_ do it."

She leaned her forehead against his abdomen. "I'm sorry, big guy. I know this is hard for you. And you are right; Will's mind is already made up. I happen to agree with Will in this case. I want to it to be Jazz's code because it is the least likely to be hacked, but he already said he'd hand it over to Red Alert or Ratchet, and there is no reason he ever has to have the kill codes. You'd have them, Prime, and whoever installed them, so you would still have some measure of control."

"I'll convince Ratchet to do it," he vented another deep, resigned sigh as his hand came up to cradle her tightly as the only way he had to express his distress and intention that this conversation be a moot point.

"Thanks Hide," she murmured sincerely, relaxing into the hands that were the safest place she could imagine, for herself and her family. He brought her up to his chestplates where she could hear the almost musical resonance of his spark, her own body drawn to it like a moth to flame.

"There is one other thing Jazz told me and said I should share with you," she finally said, excited and a little nervous for his reaction. "Chromia and her team are on their way."

The sparkbeat nearly doubled in speed as every cable in his frame tensed in surprise that showed on his face. "When?" he barely breathed the question even as he accessed the base mainframe to see if it knew.

"He didn't say. Only that word had just come in. How long has it been?" She felt her own body tensing in response to his, with excitement rather than anxiety.

"Since before Tyger Pax, before we launched the Allspark into space," he said softly, fine tremors cascading down his chassis. "ETA is in three days."

Sarah stroked his chest armor, her own hands trembling in sympathetic excitement for her mech. All thoughts of bringing up SpecOps protocols for her and Annabelle were set aside. She had never seen him so moved. His emotions had been tender yet fierce when he had claimed them, but even as deep as his feelings were that amazing night, it was absolutely nothing compared to what she was seeing in him now.

"Three days," she whispered. "Tell me about her, Hide. I knew she was important to you, but you've said so little. I don't think I exactly realized just _how_ important she is."

"I never really expected you to meet her," he admitted, his voice low as hundreds of thousands of vorns worth of memories cascaded to the fore of his consciousness. A cable caressed her neck, giving her the option to object before he plugged into her. ~I barely dared think that _I_ would see her again.~

With 'her' came the formal and quick glyphs of her Cybertronian name and a mental image of a powerfully built mech not much shorter or lighter built than he was, but who's favored weapon was a compound bow of sorts that was nearly half her height. Brilliant blue optics marked a mind as sharp as the blade she used in close quarters and melded into a light blue and green alien camo pattern. So too came a sense of great age, that she had seen as much as Ironhide himself, had fought in as many battles and been brought on line with much the same intent.

~I'm beyond happy for you, love. She looks like your perfect match. Do you think...do you think that you will bond? Have young?~ Sarah couldn't contain the tremor of excitement she felt at that. She had already seen the beauty of Hide with her own child. He seemed made to be a parent as much as he was made to be a warrior.

~We're frontliners, Sarah,~ he told her gently with the distinct impression that explained it all. ~We've been together since long before the war, but nothing more.~

Even as he said it, she could feel the tiny thrill at the idea that he was in completely denial of. She smiled inside and filed it away for future reference, wondering how that objection might change as more of the bonded pairs created new life.

~I know it sounds horribly insecure of me, but do you think she will like us? Will she care for Annabelle the way you do?~

Ironhide looked down at her with a gentle smile and stroked her reassuringly. ~I have no doubt she will like you and Will very much. We do have similar taste in sockets, though she is not as interested in bonded pairs as I am.~

When his thoughts reached Annabelle, they came to a screeching halt.

~She ... is not as fond of young ones. I was brought on line as a guardian of the Prime. No matter how much a warrior I become, I will always be a guardian at my core. She was brought on line as a warrior-scout and leader. I think she will like Annabelle. She will indulge her to no end for me. I doubt she has the core programming to be as completely taken with her as I am. She's always preferred my adult sockets to their young.~

~I honestly never would have imagined a mech as fond of children as you are, love. Two in a household would spoil her beyond redemption,~ she laughed, feeling his reaction that it was clear he thought one couldn't possibly indulge the little girl enough.

~Not possible,~ he confirmed her sense. ~There is no such possibility.~

~Will and I have not discussed sharing with others,~ she said thoughtfully. ~Have you shared sockets with her in the past? I know I'm relaxed enough to feel comfortable with that, but Will might be a different story, though I _never_ imagined him allowing _any_ of the sexy things you do to him on a regular basis to make him scream.~

The low rumble from Ironhide's engine revved sharply at the reminder of all that delicious energy and he freely showed her many of the moments that came to his processors.

~We frequently share sockets, though she does not claim mine. She will understand if either of you do not wish to.~

~Oh, I'll wish to all right,~ Sarah gave a wicked laugh, sending a sensuous caress to his mind to show just _how_ excited she was by that idea, ~and Will is probably so far gone with sharing that his resistance to the idea will likely be token for the sake of his manly pride. The fact that she is a femme will help ... speaking of which ... what exactly makes her a femme, Hide? It obviously isn't size or shape or parts, and I already get that the whole he/she thing is because of organics, not because you all actually are.~

~Smart woman,~ he brushed against her with affectionate pride. ~Her first real exposure to an organic race was a group where the females were larger, stronger and deadlier than the males." With the words came passed-along memories of a predatory avian race in bright colors, the females a solid third larger than the males. "A hunter or warrior would always be female, as were the leaders. For a lot of us that first long-term encounter will set how we think of ourselves in gender terms if there isn't a reason to change. She came back from that mission firmly set as a femme.~

~God, I love her already!~ Sarah laughed. ~Frankly, so many of you identifying as mechs and reinforcing all of our gender stereotypes has never sat very well with me. I understand _why_, but as a woman it pisses me off to no end. I can already imagine Belle's next drawing obsession. Princesses to ponies to warrior femmes.~

Ironhide could only rumble in approval. ~Chromia will approve of that too. The gender stress is still something that is difficult to process, but I understand it exists. Belle will grow up to be a strong, fierce warrior, perhaps even Chromia's socket. She has your strength and good stock.~

Sarah's face suddenly became very red. ~Ok, that is just weird for me, Hide. I mean ... I know it is likely she will grow up to be a socket. I hope she does. It would be heartbreaking to outlive her. But, if she were Chromia's socket that means she would likely share with you ... and we are with you and ... oh God, Hide, that sounds _so_ incestuous.~

He cocked his head and considered issue and her reaction. ~It has been so long since I've had a socket that wasn't raised as such,~ he admitted with a clear apology to it. ~It has always been common for the new socket to go to their parents' mech for their first few experiences. As someone who knows them, cares for them, to teach them so they have some idea what they're getting into when they find themselves the subject of so much interest overnight. If it makes you uncomfortable, I will make sure she has someone else to turn to.~

Sarah seriously pondered what he said. Her paradigms had already shifted so dramatically when she and Will agreed to be claimed, to, from her point of view, essentially marry a practically immortal living metal alien. More and more of her ideas of normal and acceptable were sure to change, even with Chromia's arrival.

~It really didn't occur to me until now that Will and I are the first generation of a whole new culture that will have completely different values and definitions of normal than much of humanity,~ She shook her head, awed by the idea. ~Annabelle will grow up with our relationship as her definition of family. There is no mech who will have cared for her and loved her like you do, so as absolutely strange as it seems to me, what you say makes perfect sense, as much as it tugs at my cultural taboos. It is just going to take me a long time to get my mind around...and Will...Jesus, I can't even think about mentioning the idea to him yet.~

Ironhide gently wrapped her in his presence, offering silent support. ~My offer stands. As much as I have always looked forward to showing a new socket I have raised the ways of sharing, she will have others who care about her. If she asks me though...~

Sarah gave a wry smile, ~Look at us, planning her first time when she is only three years old! If when it comes time, she asks you because it seems natural and normal to her, I won't stand in the way. I know all too well how fantastic it would be for her.~ She sighed. ~It will be easier for me to consider when she is older, but in the meantime, I wouldn't mind you showing _me_ some of the ideas going through that fantastic processor of yours.~

~Mmm, say a few of the other young females I've guided into becoming a socket?~ he rumbled, arousal quickly overtaking any inclination to talk in his processors. ~Or the gentler memories of Chromia?~

~Mmmmm, all of the above, but I want a demonstration of your initiation techniques. I'd _love_ to pretend to be your innocent young virgin socket,~ she licked her lips in anticipation as she began to remove her clothes. 


	46. SSU 11: Wings of the Day and Night

**Writers**: femme4jack, gatekat LJ  
**Fandom:** Transformers Bayverse  
**Pairing:** Shimmerfire/Sunstreaker/Sideswipe/Hgwa Ma-le  
**Rating:** NC-17 for mech/female  
**Codes:** Het, Slash, Xeno (Transformer/human), Twincest  
**Summary:** Sideswipe deems it safe enough for Ma-le to meet Shimmerfire, only his plans for getting the carrying Seeker in a good mood doesn't work.  
**Notes:** Set in the Dathana de Gray fanverse at (community .livejournal .com/tf_socket_fics)  
Myi - The name for life-energy in the Lisu language. It is given to them by their creator Wu-Sa. Ma-le believes that Transformers are Swamx (vampire-like spirits or gods worshiped by the hill tribes - I'm not making this stuff up).

* * *

****

Sunny Side Up 11: Wings of the Night and Day

* * *

Shimmerfire grumbled, flaring her wings wide as she took off for the short hop to her quarters from her debriefing with Jazz, Prowl and Prime. Even though they hadn't said anything, it was obvious that something huge had gone down while she was on patrol. Jazz wasn't acting himself and Prime didn't look all at ease with his two most senior officers.

It wasn't enough for her to work out what might have happened, but it was definitely enough to say something had.

On top of that, she knew her mates had a socket now, a little submissive female they were quite pleased with. She knew they wanted her to meet the little organic, but _clean_ was the first thing on her processors, then getting her energon, then an overload or three, and then, maybe, meeting the human.

Instead she landed in the main room of the quarters she now shared with the Twins to find them both there, and a tiny organic in Sunstreaker's hands.

**"Clean, energon, overload, then tell me it's name,"** Shimmerfire didn't even wait for an answer before stalking towards her expansive washrack with a flicker of wings that made her paint dazzle even under the light coating of grime.

Ma-le, who had gone all out for the anticipated introduction to the flying goddess who was the mother-of-her-husbands'-children stared wide eyed from her spot in Arun Shwe's hands. She was bathed, her hair artfully done, dressed in the finest of the Thai dresses Kuhn Jazz had purchased for her in Bangkok. She had carefully applied makeup to enhance her features as had been drilled into her by the girls who had served Kuhn Vichai. Silver Mvkang had even provided her with a strange fragrance that he had said the Seeker would appreciate.

Simply put, nothing could have prepared the Lisu girl for how _large_ her husbands' goddess mate was. She was a terrible, awesome sight to behold storming through their quarters.

"She does not look pleased." Ma-le commented as she watched the light catch the gigantic wings before they disappeared into the racks.

"She's not," Sideswipe sighed. "I was hoping several days of flying would have put her in a good mood. She'll be better after cleaning up and eating," he added before skating towards the door the giant nearly half againt as tall as he was had gone through.

"On the plus side, she's a Seeker," Sunstreaker chuckled. "They're a flighty, temperamental lot on the best of days. As fast as that ill mood comes, it can go, and Sides is good at making her happy." He glanced towards the washrack door. "I'm sure carrying six little ones doesn't help her temperament any."

Ma-le shook her head. "She is so very large, but of course her children will be large as well. I would fear carrying so many. She must be very brave."

"She's also designed for it," Sunstreaker shrugged, though he was careful not to jostle her as he skated to the table where he'd been drawing and set her down. "She's going to be in a vile mood once it grounds her, but that won't be for fifty years or so," he added as he turned to get a couple cubes of her special energon from the storage locker.

Ma-le again marveled at the ways of the swawmx. More than fifty years of pregnancy! "Well I'll have to spend the next fifty years learning what relieves her vile mood, Arun Shwe. May I ask you how I can better serve her today? Or are you too busy with your artwork."

"When it comes to making Shimmerfire happy, I have time," Sunstreaker chuckled as he returned with the glowing deep purple cubes. "The glowing stuff is energon, our food. It's also bad for humans to touch. Pure liquid energy and flesh don't mix. What makes her happy is being pampered. Polish her until she shines like the sun and casts rainbows across the room."

"There is a lot of her to pamper," Ma-le commented with an amused tone. "I think I shall be very busy. You said the first day I was here that she likes the same polish as you?"

Sunstreaker flashed her an approving look and nodded. "Yes, there is a lot of her to pamper, but it will be nothing compared to her _and_ six Seekerlings twice your height that will be here when she's fighting fit again in a vorn."

_A Seekerling is a sub-adult Seeker. Typically between birth and seventy-five vorns old,_ a voice she was beginning to get used to as her socket translator informed her mind. _A vorn is equal to eighty-three years._

"On the plus side, they should be coordinated enough to fly and socialized enough to talk within a few days of being born," he continued as he turned to bring out his polishing supplies, pausing near the washrack door to listen to his brother's progress on tempering their mate's mood. "I intend to keep you away from them for at least the first year, if not the first vorn. Just because they can walk, talk and fly doesn't mean I trust them to know how not to damage you by accident.

"That's all well into the future," he brought himself back to the subject. "Until they're ready to be born, she's going to need much more of your attention than either of us. Not only is she supporting her own spark and frame, but six rapidly growing ones as well. That doesn't mean you have to be with her like you are with us, you probably won't be by her preference. It does mean that her cable will be connected to you when you are with us so your pleasure will feed her and our sparklings."

_A sparkling is a young non-Seeker Cybertronian aged between creation and the first frame upgrade. Also used for a general term for any sub-adult Cybertronian._ The androgynous voice in her head informed her.

Ma-le without a second thought began to tidy her golden husband's work area, while privately wondering whether it might not be a good idea for Kuhn Jazz to find a couple (or perhaps 20) other sister-brides to share her duties once the 'little ones' arrived.

"I will be honored to help your mate and your little ones, Golden Sun," she admitted, speaking his god name affectionately in her own language rather than Burmese. An almost-but-not-quite-hidden gleeful look flashed across her face and a shiver ran through her myi-points in anticipation of her favorite duty.

"It's good you like that," Sunstreaker chuckled, his gaze sweeping the room to check that everything was ready. "Her mood's better," he said at random as his movements became more fidgety as he killed time without anything to really do.

Seeing his mood, Ma-le quickly climbed down the ladder from her golden husband's work table to retrieve her own human-sized polishing supplies before approaching him with a shy smile.

"May I attend to you while you wait?" she asked shyly, sensing his almost nervous anticipation for the mother of his young to emerge from the racks and wishing to relax him.

He turned and looked at her, then nodded, some of the tension already bleeding from his sleek frame as he picked her up and put her on the table again. He sat in the chair and turned his back to her, giving her perfect access to the middle of his back, the hardest place for him to tend to himself.

Ma-le smiled, pleased that he was allowing her to care for him in her own small way. She took her first cloth and attended to removing any stray dust or dirt that might have accumulated in his seams or on his beautiful armor plates. Of course, there was very little. He took far too good care of himself. She found one seam that had a bit left over from the sparring he had done earlier that the solvent in the washracks had not dissolved. Her tiny fingers were easily able remove the offending sand and dirt from between his plates using the fine cloth that attracted the dust and dirt to itself.

She then turned to applying his favorite polish with graceful motions. She delighted in simply being able to touch him. Arun Shwe was breathtakingly beautiful to her, and she loved to polish the warm golden armor until she could see her reflection more perfectly than in a pool of still water.

She ran her hand appreciatively across her work before quickly wiping away any of her own oils she might have left behind no matter how thoroughly clean she kept herself, and then leaned in and placed reverent gentle lips against his plating.

"You are so beautiful, Golden Sun," she murmured, before thoroughly wiping away the small mark her lips had left.

The soft purr of his systems at her careful attention rumbled a little higher at the praise, and cables relaxed just a bit more. Oh, how he loved to be pampered and appreciated for the physically perfect specimen he was.

~I've got her purring again,~ Sideswipe's pride in his accomplishment was clear in his mind. ~Ready to try that introduction again as she takes her energon?~

~Of course. The polishing supplies are out and she's ready to impress,~ Sunstreaker replied. "Shimmerfire is ready to meet you now. Treat her as you do us and you'll do fine."

Ma-le felt a mixture of excited anticipation and nervousness. She could tell that it was as important to her husbands that she please their mate as it was to her. Secretly it struck her as a bit odd, considering it seemed that the desire to please should go the other way around, that their female mate should wish first and foremost to please the fathers of her children, but Ma-le did not question it, especially now that she had seen with her own eyes the Seeker's unimaginable size. As always, she reminded herself, the ways and rules of the spirits and gods were very different than those of men and women, starting, obviously, with size.

When Shimmerfire walked back into the room, it was evident even to Ma-le that the huge winged goddess was in a much improved state of mind. Her steps were lighter, her wings fluttered lightly instead of being held stiff and her expression seemed more relaxed with a bit of a smile.

"You look good," Sunstreaker rumbled as he stood and skated over to her, only to find himself pulled in tightly and kissed hard. A low moan escaped from the golden warrior as he submitted willingly to her demand.

Sideswipe smiled and skated to the table. "Thanks for relaxing him," he spoke softly before picking Ma-le up. "She's not done wanting our attention, but I think I can get an introduction in while she drinks her energon," he grinned a bit more and picked up one of the cubes.

"I'm happy he allowed me to, my trickster," she murmured affectionately to her silver husband, caressing his hand. She was thrilled with both of her husbands, but for very different reasons. On the occasions when she would polished he silver trickster god, he was more likely to simply chat with her about her people and village and in turn tell her stories about his pranks and he and his brother's exploits in battle. His brother, on the other hand, would largely remain silent save the occasionally instructions or noises of approval while she for all intents worshiped his beauty while she worked. Mvkang enjoyed doting on his brother as much as she did, and working as a team to first polish and then pleasure the golden twin was a favorite past time.

As the silver god skated over to the winged goddess with her glowing meal, Ma-le schooled her features to be perfectly humble. As was custom in both her own and the surrounding cultures, she would not speak until she had been introduced.

**"Shimmerfire,"** Sideswipe caught her attention as he lifted the cube.

She made a hum of approval and let a somewhat dazed Sunstreaker go to reach for the cube. **"So who's the organic?"**

"This is our socket, Ma-le," Sideswipe held her out slightly with the introduction while Shimmerfire began to drink the glowing liquid. "I think you'll like her."

"She polishes very well," Sunstreaker added his own form of approval, his hands never leaving the larger mech. "Good energy too."

Ma-le brought he fingers together at heart-level and bowed. "I am honored to meet and serve my husbands' mate and to assist in nourishing your children, winged shimmering goddess," she stated with only the slightest hesitation, trying to find the correct words in her language for a situation her culture had never prepared her for.

A trilling rumble answered the greeting. "Respectful too," Shimmerfire regarded the human briefly between drinks of her special formula energon. "Perhaps you'll show me while the other sees to my needs."

"Sounds good to me," Sunstreaker rumbled eagerly as he ran his hands up her sides in front of her wide wings.

Ma-le gave a delighted smile. She could feel both of her husbands' relief at their mate's reaction. Their through newly forming bond was allowing her to feel some of their emotions when she was close to them, and the bond was strengthened every time they filled her with their seed, that is to say, several times a day since she had first been brought to them.

"You honor me and my clan, and it is a privilege to share my myi with you." Ma-le said, gazing in undisguised awe at Shimmerfire even as her body began to tremble in anticipation of the trickster's expert attention. She lifted her dark hair that had been artfully braided into long loops, and offered her socket to the gigantic winged mother.

There was a moment where Shimmerfire had to access the datafile and activate various protocols for sharing, but it was barely perceptible for Ma-le before the cable connected and she felt the heady rush of the being on the other end. The majesty inherent in her, the power and glory of a creature born to master the skies and young enough to not have any grasp of limitation.

Ma-le couldn't help her mental gasp as she came into contact with the Seeker. Her husbands had told her that she was to be the first human to give her myi to this glorious goddess, and suddenly she felt wholly unworthy of the honor. At the same time, her body responded to the contact with nearly instant longing.

She looked to Sideswipe and smiled broadly, ready to give herself to him for the spark of his giant mate. She tentatively reached out to him through the new bond with a brush of adoration and longing for him.

He returned with arousal and approval as he walked to the berth and helped the human out of her fine clothing while Sunstreaker got Shimmerfire on the berth. She watched as the warrior began to worship the mother of his children with golden hands and lips on her wings. The rush of pleasure it caused the Seeker flooded her.

Ma-le, already accustomed to Mvkang's desires, freely moved on his silver frame after he lay down next to Shimmerfire. She slid up to his face where she caressed and admired his complex and beautiful sensory fins with her fingers and mouth. She was just about to ask him how he would like to have her when the spillover from Shimmerfire made her freeze, unable to focus on anything but the Seeker's fiery pleasure.

~Plug into her bro,~ Sideswipe was suddenly focused sharply. ~She's never shared. She'll have no idea how to shield.~

~Right, right,~ Sunstreaker responded as took out a cable from his hip to plug into a port above hers.

Almost immediately Ma-le felt Arun-Shwe's presence next to his mate's in her mind and the pleasure calmed. She could half-watch as he taught Shimmerfire how to shield the connection and realized that her husbands did the same when they connected to her, protecting her from the full power of their nature.

Cables slid out from Sideswipe's neck and caressed her body, urging her to spread her legs above his mouth. The soft, warm metal of his glossa slid out to caress her sex, teasing and exploring as it pleasured her.

Ma-le closed her eyes and drank in the rapture of Mvkang's attention as each sweep of his glossa sent tingles from her weeping depths throughout her body. She had learned quickly not to be shy about her cries of appreciation, not that she would be able to suppress them. It pleased her husbands to know that even their simplest touches possessed her, transforming the submissive wife into a primitive creature, wild with need for them. His sensuous cables wrapped around her and supported her as she wantonly arched her back, moaning as the sleek glossa teasingly thrust into her before returning to its sensuous caresses of hypersensitive skin and folds.

Next to her Shimmerfire finally really acknowledged her as fresh energy flooded her spark for the first time, and far more important to her programming, strengthened the new sparks orbiting her own. With a guiding thought from Sunstreaker, Shimmerfire sent a wash of pleasure to Ma-le and drank in the response.

Ma-le breathed in sharp, little gasps as Shimmerfire, with the golden god's guidance, sent regular pulses along the connection. She could feel the new understanding of something that had never made sense to the young Seeker, a sudden voracious hunger for an energy the winged goddess had never before tasted, and which was desperately needed for the life she carried. It awakened a maternal energy in the Lisu girl, and she gave herself fully and willingly to the need, freely sharing not just the exquisite, perfect pleasure given to her by her silver trickster, but the emotions that connected organic mothers on an instinctive level - joy, empathy, compassion, and a tender awe at being part of the ancient dance of creation.

Ma-le was so caught up in Shimmerfire's own sensations and needs, both new and familiar, that she nearly forgot her own body when suddenly the teasing, tingling glossa delved deeply inside her, filling her as fully as his silver spike, swirling and probing the moist heart of her tender flesh. She writhed and shrieked her surprise when a wild eruption of ecstasy made her convulse around him in the first of what was sure to be multiple glorious peaks for sake of the goddess and the lives she carried.

* * *

Shimmerfire relaxed on her front on the berth, wishing her mates were there rather on punishment detail, but more than happy that Jazz had guard duty rather than Tread Bolt. Even if he wasn't in a very pleasant or talkative mood, at least she could say she honestly respected him. The tiny human perched on her right wing was a negligible, if oily, weight, but the way Ma-le worked the fine polish had long since lulled the Seeker into a contented rumble and privately grateful that she'd consented to it.

Ma-le carefully moved to the next part of Shimmerfire's wing, and began first to carefully clean and remove any particles of dirt before applying the polish the goddess and Arun Shwe preferred, using a level of pressure that seemed to please the gigantic Seeker as she made the wings shine. Already, the rainbow reflections on the roof and walls were that much more brilliant from the part of the wing she had already attended to.

She had largely worked in silence, enjoying her own thoughts and the occasional sounds of pleasure from the Seeker. But she kept finding herself wanting to ask about the young the gigantic mother was carrying.

"May I ask you a question, Kuhn Shimmerfire?" she finally asked quietly while she worked.

"Sure," she responded with a pleasured rumble.

"What is it like to be carrying so many children? Is it way of your people to have so many at once, and to have more than one father?" She asked quietly, intensely curious about the gigantic winged goddess who had selected Ma-le's husbands as her mates.

She was careful to continue her polishing without interruption, enjoying the reflection of the beautiful colors on the Seeker's fearsome form.

"It's draining," the Seeker answered first, her chassis still relaxed. "Very draining to support six sparks in addition to my own, and make the frames. From what my carrier told me, it was more common to have one, three on occasion, but that was when Vos was still standing and our wings filled the skies. He warned me that I'd likely carry six or even nine at a time until there are enough Seekers that we aren't at risk of disappearing.

"Most of us lived in trines, three Seekers that do everything together; live, train, fight, breed. Having more than two sires, your trinemates, is unusual for a clutch, but when our numbers are low, it becomes a lot more common. The number of Seekerlings are somewhat dependent on how many sires there are. I could have had nine, if there had been another mech or two that I liked for it."

"Nine?" Ma-le paused for a moment, using a cloth she had on her shoulder to wipe the perspiration off her brow from her work, taking care not to let any drip on the wing underneath her.

"I'm big enough to carry nine," Shimmerfire explained, "though it would be difficult even under the best conditions and the Seekers that came of it would be small. With six they'll be average sized, while with only one it would grow to be as large as I am, maybe larger."

"I am thankful Wu-Sa spared you that. I helped my mother while she bore her children, a brother and then two more sisters. She was worn out just by one at a time, and she only had to carry them for nine turns of the moon. We had very little food, and we always made sure she got extra, but it still was very difficult for her," Ma-le smiled, thinking of her family, no longer hungry and never to be hungry again, not for a thousand years!

"How did you select Mvkang, Arun Shwe and Kuhn Jazz to be the fathers of your children? Forgive me, I cannot remember the name of the other."

"The other Autobot Seeker, Tread Bolt," Shimmerfire answered. "He won the right, defeated me in the air, after Sideswipe and Sunstreaker agreed to be my mates and make a Seekerling with me. After that I sought out Jazz. I chose all three because they are sleek, fast and deadly. Lightly built too, for grounders. All important traits for the Seekerlings if they are to fly well."

Ma-le grinned, thinking of the things the shaman had said about the three gods whom she had shared pleasure with. Deadly warriors all, though none more so than Jazz who was still sitting quietly doing his work in another part of the spacious room.

"I am certain you chose very well, Kuhn Shimmerfire. Our village shaman told us amazing things about all three when he consulted with the ancestors and spirits. All three are deadly warriors. I wish I had known to ask him about you when I was in my village," she considered the satellite phone her father secretly hid. Perhaps she would be able to contact them sometime soon and ask her mother to consult with the shaman about the others she had met since arriving.

Thinking about her home, she was reminded of the Seeker goddess saying that her own homeland was no longer standing. "May I ask what happened to your homeland, Kuhn Shimmerfire? To Vos?"

"I was born after it fell," she answered, pain lacing her voice as his optics powered down. "The city-state that the Winglord, the master of all Seekers, ruled, protected by his warriors and guided by his trine. A city built of crystal in honor of the air," her voice dropped to nearly a whisper as memories from her carrier and generations before flooded her processors. "What happened ... the Winglord went mad. He turned to war when Megatron called on him. We lost so many. So, so many. The spires were destroyed, Vos shattered with all the hatching grounds and history. My carrier blamed the Winglord, said that Megatron destroyed Vos and Starscream let him. The Autobots say much the same."

Despite saying it, it was obvious to those who heard her that it wasn't something she could completely make herself believe, even if she didn't disbelieve it either.

Jazz, even more than Ma-le, listed with rapt fascination to an abbreviated story that held much of the same information that Skywarp's had, but came from a very different, very distant source.

Ma-le felt deep sympathy for the goddess, whose wings trembled beneath her. "I feel grief at your loss, Kuhn Shimmerfire. Losing ones homeland and ones people is a powerful, horrible thing that can so easily make those who are left behind forget who they are and who Wu-Sa made them to be. I am honored that I am wife to those you chose as mates and fathers to help rebuild your people," her words were formal but heartfelt.

She continued work in silence for a moment, unsure of whether to ask another question, but found herself quietly adding, "The nation my people live in also was betrayed by those who were supposed to lead and protect it. My people have lost many, if not most of our villages. Mine still stands, and has a chance, thanks to Kuhn Jazz," she looked briefly at the silver god of death, and noticed that his visor was bright and he was watching them. She gave him a shy smile and returned to her work, moving to yet another section of the great wing.

She worked for a time in silence, putting extra tenderness into her care of the goddess's wing, making it gleam. "Your coloring is beautiful, Kuhn Shimmerfire. I've never seen anything like it in my whole life," she quietly commented as she finished the first side, picking up her cloths and polish and making her way carefully to the other side.

"Primus gives each Seeker a gift, something that is theirs alone," Shimmerfire rumbled softly with the pleasure of being pampered so well. "Many of us take our designations from it. Shimmerfire is mine because I shimmer, and when I call on it, it can blind my enemies with a brilliant fire. My carrier was called Sideflare for his ability to warp a short distance to one side in a flare of fire."

Ma-le began carefully removing any dust with one of the electrostatic cloths Sideswipe had provided her with, her fingers able to fit it into seams and crevices in the Seeker's armor that others could not reach. "Is your ... carrier ... is she, I mean is he still among the living, or has his myi returned to Wu-Sa?" Ma-le tried not to think of her own parents, whom she ached for, as much as she was so very much enjoying her new life.

"He returned to Primus two vorns ago," Shimmerfire said softly, not bothering to hide how much it still pained her. "He bought me enough time to get ahead of the Decepticons hunting us so I could make it here. Said I was more valuable to the future than he was, since he was old and smaller."

Ma-le silently wondered how gods could suffer so much loss, yet it was obvious that their lives were as full of pain and suffering as that of any mortal, but compounded by the length of their existence. She glanced again at Jazz, wondering if the fact that Shimmerfire was now under the protection of the god of death, and indeed, was carrying his children, meant the Seeker's losses were at an end.

"I am glad you have new life in you to soften such bitter loss, Kuhn Shimmerfire. Are you able to tell anything about them yet? Will they have similar gifts from Wu-Sa...Primus, I mean, as you and your carrier?"

"Mmm, at least one or two will," Shimmerfire purred, a deep rumble of pleasure as she made an effort to focus on the sensations and not on old pain. "They often follow family lines. I'm sure the three Sideswipe and Sunstreaker sired will have blades like mine, since all three of us have arm blades of some kind. The one Tread Bolt sired is likely to be small and stealthy but not that agile. Jazz's unusually fast, agile and unbreakable. I'll know more as they grow, especially once their sparks detach from mine and transfer to their bodies in about five metacycles.

"They'll be able to tell me their names within three metacycles, what their gift is within days of taking residence in their frames. The real advantage to Seekers is when they're born. Within a few days they'll be able to walk, talk and fly. It will be an advantage for them to be raised by Seekers, but even at that point they'll grow up knowing exactly what they are and how to do it. Even if they never see another Seeker, they know how to be Seekers."

"Children are the greatest gift, Kuhn Shimmerfire, and it will be my honor to share my myi with your spark and theirs as they grow," Ma-le smiled softly, continuing her tender care of the mother-goddess's wings. She could not help the wave of pure desire that settled deep inside her at the thought.

She wondered when her own body would begin showing signs of new life? After all, her husbands filled her with their seed every time they shared. It was bound to happen soon if it had not already. Her cycle was certainly several days late. She tried to imagine what children of the twin gods would be like. Her own people had descended from golden twins, a son and daughter of Wu-Sa. Perhaps she, like her ancestress, the golden twin's daughter who married the tiger spirit, would be the mother a whole new people.

Shimmerfire hummed in pleasure, letting silence reign for a time before speaking. "So what kind of mate do you want to sire you young?"

Jazz's face snapped up from his datapad and focused on the pair once more, ready to intervene or explain if need be as Ma-le opened her mouth and blinked several times in confusion, pausing in her polishing.

She could not even fathom the question, or how to answer it. She wondered if perhaps the goddess was testing her honor and her loyalty to her husbands. "I would never allow another to put his seed in me, Kuhn Shimmerfire, now that I am married. To do so would dishonor my husbands, and I'm sure they would protect me from someone forcing his will. But my cycle is already late, so I am hopeful that I am with child already." It suddenly occurred to her that there was one other who had recently had put his seed in her, when he had been in the holoform that still haunted her dreams. She looked suddenly at Jazz, her eyes wide at the realization. According to the moon cycles, it was much more likely to have been his seed that had put a child inside of her.

Jazz put his datapad down and walked over to the berth that looked even larger with him there.

"We can't give humans children, not even in holoform," he said gently in her native language. "The question was not for honor or to test you. To have children, it will need to be with another human."

Ma-le stared at Jazz, tears starting to form in her eyes, shock and realization setting in. She would _never_ have children. Never know the joy of having her husbands seed grow into new life inside her. No wonder her husbands had a mate of their own kind to sire children on.

"Forgive me," she said suddenly, sliding down from Shimmerfire and quickly climbing down the ladder they set up for her against the berth, with the intent of running as quickly as she could toward the small apartment set up for her to cry in privacy. She would not dishonor Jazz or her father or her husbands by showing her grief in front of others. It was too much to take in, and the girl had suddenly reached her limit of shock and confusion.

**"What's with her?"** Shimmerfire looked after the retreating human in confusion.

**"Culture shock,"** he shrugged. **"Best to let another human female calm her down,"** he added as he comm-ed Sarah Lennox.


	47. Sunny Side Up 12: Of Gods and Girls

**Writers: **gatekat and femme4jack on LJ  
**Fandom: **Transformers Bayverse  
**Pairing: **Shimmerfire/Sunstreaker/Sideswipe/Hgwa Ma-le, Sarah Lennox/Will Lennox/Ironhide  
**Rating: **PG-13  
**Codes: **Het, Xeno (Transformer/human)  
**Summary: **Ma-le needs comforting, and it comes in the form of Sarah Lennox and her own silver mech.  
**Notes:** Written in the Dathanna de Gray fanverse (community .livejournal .com/ tf_socket_fics)  
"text" organic language  
**"text"** translated Cybertronian.  
~text~ bond/cable talk  
::comm chatter:

* * *

****

Sunny Side Up 12: Of Gods and Girls

* * *

A beautiful young woman, barely more than a girl, was lying in fetal position on her bed in the small studio apartment that had been added almost overnight to the gigantic Seeker's quarters that her husbands shared with their mate. Prior to being trafficked as a sex slave, she had never been further from home than the next village, though her brother went to school in the closest city, and her family was by no means completely ignorant of the world beyond their village. Within two weeks of being lured by the promises of the traffickers, she was bought by a giant metallic god, who then offered her the chance to return to her village (where she could look forward to hunger and forced relocation as a refugee at best), or to come with him to a strange island where other gods lived, to be married to twin husbands, serve them, and in the process give her family and village a future.

Three weeks and four days since she had first left her village with the traffickers, promised work and money in Bangkok that would go to her family. One week, four days since she had met Kuhn Jazz, Xo-Po, the Spirit of Death who would protect her village. And now she was in a world that she barely understood. She was thrilled to be there, and did not understand where her grief came from, other than her deep humiliation at constantly misunderstanding what was around her, saying foolish things, and perhaps embarrassing her husbands with her ignorance. The few other humans she had met were all westerners, and seemed completely at home in this strange place. Ma-le, however, felt a constant fear that her ignorance would disappoint her husbands, whom she desperately desired to please. They were so good with her, made her feel things she had never even known she was capable of feeling, had given her excellent food, clothing, even her own private room and kitchen. Yet she was frightened to even set foot out of their gigantic quarters, and hardly had time to because it took so long for her to keep it clean, especially the gigantic wash racks that needed to be pristine.

Her face burned red again, remembering her latest foolish mistake. Jazz had to explain to her that she would be unable to bear children for them. How could she have been so foolish to think that they would give her children? It had just never occurred to her. Bearing children to the gods was part of the history of her tribe. It was one of the reasons that her father's name would likely be forever part of the clan songs. Just as the Lisu Tiger Clan descended from the tiger god who had mated with her ancestress, whom she was named for, who was herself the daughter of twin gods, she believed her own children would come from her husband-gods. But now she knew the truth. Jazz said that she could only become pregnant from another mortal, which meant there would be no children for her. She was not married to a man. She had fled into her room at his words, and for that she was ashamed as well because she had left her husbands' goddess-mate without finishing polishing her wings.

At some point after her sobs had drifted to silence there was a gentle knock on the door to her room. "I'm not a mech," a woman's voice called shortly afterwards.

Ma-le jumped out of bed. Who could possible be there? It didn't sound like Mikaela who was the only other human she knew on base.

"I will be with you in a moment please," she called out in what she hoped was a pleasant voice. She quickly went into her bathroom and splashed her red face with cold water, horrified by how puffy her eyes looked. She ran a brush through her hair and straightened out her clothing, before going to the door and opening it to find a blond western woman, appearing to be a few years older than her.

Ma-le bowed slightly to the woman with the traditional wai as if to a woman of senior status. "Welcome," she said pleasantly, despite looking as though she had spend the past 30 minutes sobbing her humiliation and exhaustion into the silky pillows her husbands had provided for her. "Would you like to come in?" She noticed beyond the woman that Jazz was finishing polishing Shimmerfire's wings, and her face grew red again in shame that he had to finish her work.

"Yes, thank you," the woman smiled and stepped inside. "My name is Sarah," she offered her hand, looking a bit unsure herself. "I don't know much about where you came from, but we wives have to stick together."

Ma-le was once again thankful for how the magic Kuhn Ratchet had put in her neck made her understand the woman, as though they were speaking the same language. "Hello, Kuhn Sarah," taking the woman's hand, having seen the gesture on her village's television before the army took their satellite dish. "I'm Ma-le. Would you care for some tea?" She gestured to the small table in her apartment, adjacent to the kitchen.

It felt rude to ask the woman why she was there, and as fragile as she felt, the company of another woman was something she had been longing for without realizing it. How she wished Jazz had brought along her sister as well, and that her husbands had married both of them.

"That sounds good," Sarah smiled at her. "There is no need for formalities or titles with me, Ma-le. I'm here as a friend, someone to talk to. It was a shock for all of us when this place stopped being a military base and really started to work like it was _theirs_."

Ma-le smiled shyly, but was inwardly confused. She quickly put water on the stove to boil, such a convenience after the fire they cooked on at home, though she did miss the smell.

"I'm not sure I understand," she said quietly from the stove. "This place is theirs, isn't it? If you mean that it belongs to Kuhn Jazz, and my husbands and the others."

"It does now, but when they first arrived it belonged to the British and American military," Sarah explained. "I guess it might not be apparent if you aren't used to what those bases look like, but if you are, you can still see a fair amount of what was here before they took it over."

Ma-le sat down at the table with the woman, whom she guessed was American, but wasn't quite sure. The accents got all mixed up in her head.

"So, are you a wife to one of the Swamx as well?" Ma-le assumed that is what the light colored woman meant when she said _we wives_, but she needed to be certain.

"Yes, the one called Ironhide," the blond smiled and sat, trying to present a relaxed manner and encourage the distraught new wife to speak. "I also have a human husband and darling little girl."

"You have a child?" Ma-le couldn't keep the desperate sound out of her voice. "Your...your Swamx, Ironhide, he allowed you to marry so you could have this child?"

"Umm, technically I was married to Will, my human husband, and had Annabelle before either of us met Ironhide," she hoped she wasn't going into a really bad place with this. "Ironhide loves her as his own though. Most mechs ... Swamx ... are agreeable to their sockets having a human lover."

Ma-le blushed again, tears coming to her eyes. "Another thing I didn't know," she whispered, almost to herself. "I do not wish to sound ungrateful, Sarah. There is just so much I don't know ... don't understand. I feel like I humiliate myself somehow every day. I'm afraid to leave here, because I don't wish to bring dishonor to my husbands by being foolish about something."

"You don't have to be embarrassed about it," Sarah reached out to try and comfort the other woman. "You won't dishonor them by learning how to live here, and you can't learn how to live here without going out there," she motioned around her. "Everyone takes time to adjust to this place."

The kettle whistled and the Lisu girl stood up, brushing the wrinkles out of the dress Arun Shwe had given her and instructed her to wear that day while she polished Shimmerfire. She gave a small smile of guilty pleasure that her husbands seemed to enjoy giving her gifts, and fought the urge to refuse out of shame for how little her own family had. It pleased them to give things to her, and she was inwardly thrilled. Just a few days before, Mvkang had surprised her with a case of Golden Lion tea, grown in the Kachin state of Burma where her village was located. The plantations, in fact, were not far from her village and some of their men and women picked tea leaves there. It was said that tea grown at 8000 feet as that which her family drank had a flavor like nothing in this world. At home, they would not have had the packaged kind, instead, they dried tea from their own fields, and would roast them over the fire before brewing. But this was the closest she would find to the flavors of her village. She carefully spooned the precious stuff into a pot and poured in the water, carrying it over to her guest along with two bowl shaped cups, setting the pot down to brew.

"Things were so much simpler in my village, Kuhn Sarah, as difficult as they were." she said, falling back into her normal patterns of speech in which an elder was always addressed with a respectful title, no matter how close a friend. "I always knew how to act, what was expected of me, how to bring honor to my family. I'm very happy with Arun Shwe and Mvkang. Who wouldn't feel honored to have been chosen for the Swamx? But...I thought I was pregnant. My moon flow is late, and I thought I was going to bear a child for the gods like my ancestress did. Kuhn Jazz told me it wasn't possible except with a human. I cannot even imagine the shame of asking my husbands if I could have another. Was your human husband very angry when a god wanted you as well, Sarah?"

"He was relieved," Sarah smiled kindly and settled in to explain more fully from start to finish. "It is a rather complex situation. My human husband, Will, is a soldier, a Ranger. He was among the first on Earth to encounter a Cybertronian, what we call them. He fought alongside Ironhide, became close comrades, but Hide didn't approach him yet. During that time Ironhide was talking to me about taking friendship to marriage when Will was ready. We agreed that we were ready when Will was. When Ironhide and Will took the step to lovers, I joined them. It was a very different path than yours."

Ma-le was clearly fascinated. She leaned forward, "I knew they took husbands as well as wives. Kuhn Jazz told me about his Miles. Did...did Ironhide have to pay a bride price to both of your fathers, then? Or did he have to pay it to Will? Was it a lot? Kuhn Jazz paid the largest bride price in the history of our village for me," she added with some pride.

"There was no bride price to anyone," Sarah shook her head and very carefully squashed her reaction to the idea since Ma-le was clearly so pleased for herself. "We don't have that tradition in America, or in most of the countries you'll find represented on base. Your ... moon flow ... is likely late because of something else they didn't think to tell you. When a mech claims a woman, he can make it so she doesn't have her monthly time. It's less messy for them."

Ma-le gave a sigh, and shook her head. "_Everything_ that I have ever known is wrong here. I feel like by opening my mouth to speak or ask a question, people will laugh at me, and that _will_ dishonor my husbands. A wife should be respected by others, not the source of laughter or pity."

"In your village, is a wife ever brought in from far away?" Sarah asked gently, hoping for some kind of common ground to work with.

"Occasionally from a neighboring Lisu village or a village of one of the other Hilltribes, usually the Lahu or Akha. We have similar enough customs. Occasionally someone will take a wife from among the Kachin."

"If a wife comes from far, far away, is she expected to know everything already?" Sarah pressed forward, still hopeful. "If she came from a land that did not even speak your language?"

Ma-le smiled and tried to suppress a giggle. "Sarah, there is no man in my village wealthy enough to travel far away to find a wife. And aside from that, with so many of our young men dead or taken by the army, girls far outnumber the boys. Many of the older men are taking a second wife simply because there is no one else to provide for them."

She paused for a moment, considering. "My grandmother was from a nearby Lahu village, and she did not speak Lisu, but grandfather lived with her family for several years to pay off her bride price before they returned to Tiger Village, so she learned the language while he was with her parents. That is how it normally happens among my people. Even if the bride price is paid, the husband must live with the wife's family for at least one year to make it easier for her to leave her mother."

Suddenly she started giggling for real.

"I'm trying to imagine Arun Shwe and Mvkang living with my family and my village for the required year. That is the funniest thing I've thought about in a long time!"

Sarah couldn't help but laugh with her. "Oh my, especially if Shimmerfire went with them. I can only imagine the chaos those three could cause without adult supervision for a whole year. Why do you call them Arun Shwe and Mvkang?" She asked with an honest smile on her face.

Ma-le gave a bright smile, and poured the tea in Sarah's bowl, happy to have someone to talk about her village and people with. It eased her loneliness for her family. She gracefully picked up Sarah's tea, gave a little bow from her seat and handed it to her, waiting for guest to drink before she poured her own.

"Before I left with Kuhn Jazz, my mother and I visited one of the village shamans who is married to my mother's sister. I already was sure that Kuhn Jazz was one of the Swamx ... they are strange gods that have always been a mystery to us. It is said that they are like vampires, but they give protection in return for feeding on a person's Myi - their lifeforce."

Ma-le's eyes showed her excitement and wonder that she had felt in realizing just who Jazz was. "We wanted to find out if my suspicions were correct. The Shaman took the poppies, and then consulted with the spirits. The spirits spoke through him and told us that they were indeed Swamx. Then he told us that Sideswipe was actually the trickster god Mvkang who is well known to our people. He is a wonderful ally despite his tricks, and horrible enemy. We did not know he was actually a Swamx and not just a spirit, but it makes sense thinking about his stories. The spirits said that Sunstreaker is a god we did not know of before. His name is Arun Shwe, which means Golden Sun, but in Burmese, not in Lisu. I hadn't even told the Shaman that he was gold, or that his name was Sunstreaker!"

"How very apt," Sarah smiled warmly. She might not believe in it herself, but in the past few years she'd experienced too much to think of anything as just primitive beliefs or superstition without a long, hard look through more than just her eyes. "Sideswipe is such a trickster, probably the most renown one among the Autobots, and he is a terrible enemy. Did he say anything about Jazz, or any of the others?" she asked eagerly.

Ma-le looked down the table, unsure of what she should say, but decided to answer as honestly as she could. "Yes, the spirits were very clear about Kuhn Jazz's identity. His is a name that is dangerous for a mortal to speak, so will not say it. But he is a god of death. Our shaman was ecstatic about the news. For a village to be allied with the god of death means protection for us, and death to those who would murder our men, rape our women, steal our food and kidnap our boys and girls to use slaves and soldiers." Her voice was suddenly like ice, her quiet fury clearly evident.

Sarah considered that, considered what she knew of the SIC and Ironhide's thoughts about him, and nodded. "I'd say that is apt as well. Jazz is very much a force of death to those who anger him. It makes me very grateful he's on our side," she said before sipping a bit more tea. "Would it be dishonorable for your new sisters, other wives of the mechs, to help you understand how things work here and get to know folks?"

Ma-le seemed to consider for a moment. Sarah did not appear to judge her, at least not the way she had sensed that Ratchet and Mikaela had, though she was growing more certain that their anger was not toward her, but toward her husbands, which she did not understand. Sarah treated her much more like an older sister would, or an aunt, if their age difference had been greater.

"It would be honorable, and an honor, Kuhn Sarah. Just ... please do not tell my husbands that I ask such foolish questions. I don't want to cause them embarrassment. And ... could you bring your little girl? If I may never have children of my own, I would at least like to be able hold and play with others," she added wistfully.

"Of course I'll bring Belle," Sarah agreed warmly. "You can come visit us as well. I promise I won't tell your husbands, as long as you promise to ask me any questions you have." She reached out to touch the young woman's arm. "Don't give up on children just yet. A thousand years is a very long time. So much can change. Maybe even their ability to have children with us."

"Thank you, Kuhn Sarah," Ma-le said with quiet sincerity. For the first time since arriving, she did not feel quite so alone. Her husbands were good to her, but they were not human. She needed sisters, and she had finally found one. Perhaps her real sister could come soon as well. She could certainly use more help polishing her husbands and their mate and cleaning the gigantic quarters.

"You are welcome," Sarah smiled gently.

::Should I distract Sides?:: Jazz pinged Sarah privately. ::He's going to ask questions here in a couple nanokliks. He won't be upset if she needs more time. He's concerned, not angry..::

::I think she is ok now,:: Sarah responded before launching into full on lecture mode. ::Those two _need_ to do a better job explaining things to her, Jazz. Everything here, including western culture, is new and alien to her, and she is far too worried about being an embarrassment to them for her naiveté. I'll be taking her under my wing, getting her out with some of the other female sockets. She desperately needs some support. And I think Prime should seriously reconsider the age limits, at least in this case, and bring her sister here. She _needs_ someone from her own culture.::

::I'm not sure I can get him to back off on 'marriage' age, but I'll work on the living here age,:: he promised. ::We've got enough problems with Western governments without implying we're marrying underage girls. Her sister is fourteen. The PR nightmare that could cause...:: he let the statement drift off. ::Anyway. I'll have a chat with the Twins, and get Smokey involved. It might take a few months, but we'll sort this out. You know we want her to be happy.::

::I know you want her happy, Jazz, and I'm really thankful you called me over. Ma-le's culture shock makes what the rest of us have felt look like a walk in the park. I didn't realize her sister was that young, and you are right, the PR would be a nightmare.::

"Ma-le, Jazz just told me Sideswipe is home. Do you want to spend some more time with me here? I'd love to hear more about your village and your family. But I can also come back another time if you'd like to greet him. He probably can sense that you have been upset and will be anxious to see you."

Ma-le was divided. Sarah was her first guest, and she was reluctant to end her visit, but her favorite part of the day or night was when one or both of her husbands got off duty.

"He will likely wish for me to give Myi to Shimmerfire, though he might wish to pleasure her first. But...if he is concerned..."

::He is, but he'll behave,:: Jazz told Sarah. ::Sunny is too, for that manner, but he's still on duty. Try not to think too badly of them for their mistakes. They're designed and programmed to never grow out of the 'I'm invincible' teenage phase. They don't have the capability to have more than a rudimentary grasp of some things, including how not to be self-centered.::

::I'm practical, Jazz. Hide explained the whole preprogrammed thing to me, and I know they need sockets as much as anyone else. She suits them, and they suit her in their own way. As bizarre as it is to me, I even understand why it is important for her to view them as deities. It is part of the way she views the world, and helps her to make sense of this and embrace it. Not so long ago, my culture would have viewed you the same way.::

::Good,:: he sounded as relieved as she suspected he was.

Sarah was once again happy about how quickly even comm communication seemed to happen through her socket. Ma-le hardly noticed.

"Jazz says that Mvkang is anxious about you, and so is Arun Shwe, but that he also can reassure them that you are alright. Don't feel like you need to stay just to please me, Ma-le," Sarah said kindly, guessing that part of her concern was that of proper hospitality to her guest.

The girl appeared to be internally struggling the offer, and with the competing demands of her sense of hospitality and her duty to and pleasure in her husbands. "Will you please come for tea again soon, and bring your Belle?"

"Of course," Sarah assured her honestly and stood. "We'll come by tomorrow. Sound good?"

"Very good, Sarah," Ma-le said earnestly, giving her a deep wai before walking her out of the 'apartment' and into the wide open living area of Shimmerfire's quarters. Somewhat to her surprise, only Sideswipe was there, though she could see Jazz's silver form just beyond the open door to the outside world. The rumble of Shimmerfire's engines echoed into the room a moment later.

"Come here, Ma-le," Sideswipe knelt and extended his hands to his socket.

Even though the words could be a command, Sarah'd been around the enough warriors to recognize concern and distress in one when they weren't hiding it.

Ma-le blinked back tears that were threatening to start up again at the sight of Mvkang, and ran to his waiting hands. "Mvkang, how was your day? Are you tired? May I do anything for you?"

"Shu, shu," he cradled her close to his chest as he stood, several cables snaking out of his hands to caress her. "My day was fine. Did Shimmerfire do something to upset you? She has no right to."

"Oh no, she didn't do anything, Mvkang. She and I were simply talking while I polished her wings. She was very kind. I just ... I just didn't understand something and was sad and embarrassed, but it is all right now. I did not even finish polishing her wings. I am so sorry. I should not have gotten so upset."

She leaned in against his chest to hear the sound of his spark and his systems that was so beautiful to her.

"It's all right," he murmured as he sat on the berth, still cradling her close and stroking her gently. "Was it something I can change?"

Ma-le had not intended to tell her husbands what had gotten her so upset. It was embarrassing for her. But Mvkang's tenderness was making her blink back tears again, and she could not help herself.

"I...I'm so embarrassed. Kuhn Shimmerfire asked me what kind of mate I would look for to have children. I thought she was testing my faithfulness to you. I...there were signs in my body that I was going to have a baby, and I thought that...I did not understand that I could not bear children for you and Arun Shwe. Jazz explained it to me."

She felt her husbands communicate across their special bond, but as always she understood nothing more than that it was happening.

"The not-bleeding?" he asked her gently, already very uncomfortable but distressed enough to push through it for now. "We can make that come back if it bothers you," he continued to stroke her. "We want you to be content and happy. Your energy is so much better when you are feel strong and happy."

"It does not bother me that I will not bleed, my husband. It was...I always thought I would be a mother someday. I thought that the fluid you put in me could do that. I felt so foolish when I was wrong, and when I am so ignorant, I fear dishonoring both of you."

"Ma-le, you aren't foolish, and you definitely aren't dishonoring either of us," he modulated his vocalizations to sooth her as best he could. "You can be a mother, any time you want to be once you've adapted to living here." He used a cable to tip her face up to look at his faceplates. "We don't take any opportunities from you, only give you more. But we can't give you what we don't know you want."

Ma-le stared at him, as though somehow seeing him for the first time. Tears were freely streaming down her cheeks. "You give me so much already, to me and my family. You would _really_ allow me to...to have a child with a human man someday?"

"Yes," he said firmly. "With a man of your choice if you find one you like, or we will find one with the qualities to be a good sire if you do not want him to stay."

Ma-le couldn't help herself from breaking into a huge grin even as she cried. "I...I'm not sure I could imagine having _another_ husband, but having you choose one would feel very honorable to me if I cannot give children to you and your brother."

"Then that is what we will do, if it is still your wish when you are ready," he smiled and caressed her gently. "Did Mrs. Lennox help you calm down?"

"Yes, Mvkang, very much. Kuhn Sarah is going to bring her daughter to meet me tomorrow. Was...is Kuhn Shimmerfire very angry that I did not finish her wings?" Ma-le asked timidly, wiping her eyes, trying to settle her last bit of anxiety. It was _so_ important to her that her husbands be pleased with how she treated their mate, and she was deeply concerned that the winged goddess only barely tolerated her. She secretly wished that more of myi could be for her husbands alone because she was always certain that she pleased them, and could feel their affection for her through the connection. However, she understood the need for most of her energy to go to their mate and young.

"Good, and she didn't notice," he chuckled slightly. "Jazz is very skilled at handling her kind. Now, is there anything else that is bothering you, my Ma-le?"

"I feel that I do not please her, Mvkang," the girl responded honestly.

"Aw, Ma-le, _no one_ pleases her," he all but crooned, stroking her with a finger and cables. "Seekers are hard to please at best, and a carrying one without a trine is insufferable. It's not you."

"Thank you, Mvkang," she wrapped her arms around his finger, practically shaking in gratitude for him. He had reassured her so much. "Women from my village do not usually speak to men when they are sad or confused. We have our mothers and sisters for that. I did not realize it was appropriate to tell you when I was upset about something. I do not wish to be a burden."

"You will never be a burden," he assured her gently. "You will have a sister and other women from your area here in a few years. Until then, come to me, Jazz, Sarah, or whoever else you meet. There is no reason to hide your distress. We want to make this place your home, where you feel strong and sure of your place."

She hugged his large digit even more fiercely. "I am _sure_ when I am with you, Mvkang. I feel very strong with you and Arun Shwe. And having my sister will be wonderful. Do you think...since there are so many sparks to share with because of the little ones...do you think it might please you to marry her as well?"

"Quite likely," he rumbled. "Once they are born the sparklings won't need to share for many years, but it will make them even stronger if they do. Jazz said it would be four years until your sister is old enough. That isn't long," he stroked her hair with a finger. "It might feel like it, but it's not."

"Thank you, my husband. That is such a wonderful thing to hope for. I will sleep so much better when she is safe here. I always am fearful that what happened to me will also happen to her."

"If anyone harms or threatens your family, they will answer to _us_," Sideswipe's engine rumbled dangerously. "No one threatens what is ours. No one and nothing."


	48. Frontliners 3: The Zerstörerz Arrive

**Fandom:** Transformers Bayverse  
**Author:** gatekat and femme4jack on LJ  
**Pairing:** Ironhide/Will Lennox, Ironhide/Chromia  
**Rating:** NC-17 for mech/femme  
**Codes:** Slash, Het, Xeno (Transformer/Human)  
**Summary:** Chromia's cadre, nicknamed the Zerstörerz (Destroyers) by Cons and Bots alike, enters the Sol system ready to shake things up and put the fear of Autobots in Megatron once more.  
**Notes:** Written in the Dathana de Gray fanverse (community .livejournal .com/tf_socket_fics)  
"text" Organic languages translated via socket software  
**"text"** translated Cybertronian.  
~text~ Bond or cable talk ::text:: comm talk

****

Frontliners 03: The Zerstörerz Arrive

* * *

Just inside the Sol System's final cloud of debris a small, heavily armored boarding craft modified for long-range missions slowed to half the speed of light. Inside the sparked combat ship, an active crew of seven Cybertronians and three organics were all but vibrating with excitement.

"We're really almost there?" Shekat, the smallest member of the crew was doing her best to be still in her chair with so little to do, but it wasn't working very well.

"Six joor," Jolt responded with a grin of his own for the young organic that was the only non-com on board. He'd been as resistant as any when she'd boarded, but as the cadre's medic he'd been the first to admit that the curvy tabby felenoid's value as a socket that delighted in sharing was well worth her weaknesses when it came to combat.

"Seven hours by the local time keeping system," the largest organic, Cauver, rumbled with a rustle of large leather and feather wings and swirling of his expressive jewel-like eyes towards the rich blues of excitement.

"Quiet, everyone," a powerfully built mech painted light blue and green worked into a matte finish alien camo pattern called out. She activated the visual comm for her central command station and smiled when Prime himself appeared. **"Greetings from the Long Shot, Prime,"** she inclined her head fractionally out of respect. **"We are approximately six joor out with a crew of seven mechs, three socket organics and ten mechs in stasis. Requesting planetary approach clearance."**

**"Greeting from Earth, Chromia,"** he smiled with real warmth. **"Sending your landing coordinates and approach vector. Ironhide is looking forward to your arrival. Is Dogfight still with your cadre?"**

All three organics looked at the Seeker of the unit, his powder blue and white paint shining as he flicked his wings in a curious acknowledgment of his designation.

**"Landing coordinates and approach vector received,"** the electric blue Killblade reported quietly.

**"Yes, he is,"** she gave Prime a curious look after glancing back at her air support, who shrugged.

**"Excellent,"** Prime seemed to relax a bit. **"A young Neutral Seeker answered my signal. Without a trine and only just in her mature frame, she's carrying and does not like Tread Bolt."**

**"No surprise there, Prime."** Dogfight stepped into viewing range of the comm. **"Has she given her carrier's designation?"**

Prime paused, tuning his vocalizer to the Seeker's unique language. **"Sideflare. His carrier was Firewing."** He switched back to the standard High Cybertronian. **"We have no record of him, though one entry was found of Firewing in the last Vos census."**

Everyone watched as Dogfight attempted to track the designation via Seeker heritage protocols. His wings quivered when he found it. **"I'm not surprised, Prime. That's not a name many Seekers will speak of. Is Shimmerfire aware of her ... unusual heritage?"**

It took Prime a moment to realize what he meant, and he nodded. **"She's less shy about saying it than you are. Ratchet will want everything you have on Seeker reproduction."**

**"Of course, Prime,"** Dogfight dipped his wings. **"Can you tell me who the co-creators are?"**

**"Tread Bolt, Jazz, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe. She's claiming the Twins as her mates,"** he answered easily despite the way Dogfight stiffened further at the information. **"It's fairly common knowledge on base."**

**"Understood,"** Dogfight dipped his wings in acknowledgment before stepping back for Chromia to take over.

Prime glanced over at Ironhide, who impatient on the best of days, was currently as fidgety as a youngling about to get his upgrade. He was polishing his cannons for what must have been the 15th time since he'd parked himself in the command center waiting for Chromia's signal. Really, he should have made the old timer wait on the range and called him in when the signal came. Or better yet, had him spend time with the Will's offspring who would cause Hide's patient guardian base code to kick in. The fact the Major Lennox, who normally kept a professional military distance while on duty, was actually sitting between Hide's shoulder armor and neck, plugged in, spoke volumes the emotional state of Prime's former guardian.

Turning back to the visual display, he looked at the source of Ironhide's excitement and nervousness. Like so many, he had not seen her or her cadre since Tyger Pax, and had heard very little as teams spread throughout several galaxies to search for the Allspark. **"Chromia, what are the designations of those currently in your cadre and the last known status of any who are no longer with you?"** He steeled himself for the news of lost friends and comrades that often came with such a reunion.

**"My current crew is Rollbar, Killblade, Jolt, Flak and Dogfight. Organics are Wolfkat and Cauver; Shekat is an organic non-com. Long Shot's spark is still intact."** She began with the important news: who was ready be join the fighting force on Earth. **"Springer, Groundpounder, Guzzle and Sidetrack are in stasis pending repairs. Twin Twist is out of stasis but not combat ready. Grimlock, Slag, Sludge, Snarl and Swoop are in stasis to avoid excessive damage to Long Shot. They were pretty fragged up when we pulled them out of one of Shockwave's lab-bases. Paddle is in stasis voluntarily and is ready to be revived at any time.**

**"Blaze Master and Getaway are MIA. Dogfight indicates that Blaze Master is alive and not in pain or critical condition, but can not locate him. Given the tracking abilities of a Seeker with their bonded I believe they were sent to an alternate dimension by a Decepticon device when it overloaded.**

**"Sunrunner fall at Quintr to Decepticons. Barrage and Heave at Bilomix 12. Roadbuster at Ewiran 15. Fastlane during the Cormax Prison riots we quelled. Skyhammer and Sureshot at Montrois. Did we hear correctly that CMO Ratchet is with you and still functioning?"** she asked.

**"He is,"** Prime told her. **"I have alerted him of your injured. He and his team will be ready when you land."**

Tension visibly drained from Chromia's frame, as it did from Jolt's off screen.

**"Would that be Ironhide lurking just behind you?"** her voice took on a teasing quality that was rarely present.

Before Prime could answer, the sound of highly colorful cursing came from the doorway of the command center.

**"If you think this island is big enough for Grimlock and the insane bunch of fraggers he calls his cadre, on top of Dogfight, Rollbar, _and_ Twin Twist, you are slagging insane! I'm putting in for a transfer to a different base. Maybe a 'Con one. It would be more sane."**

From the other side of the comm connection came boisterous laughter and comments of 'That's the Hatchet!' and 'He has no idea'.

Prime cycled his optics. **"As you can hear, Chromia, our CMO is anticipating your arrival and will have medbay ready. And yes, Ironhide is here."** He moved aside to let his heavily armored weapons specialist take the center of the screen.

**"Chromia,**" he nearly purred. **"What's your count, my mate?"**

**"Two hundred and nine, my plasma,"** she rumbled back in the same tone.

"And eight," a female voice behind her spoke up with a growl. "Contrail is _my_ kill."

From his spot by Hide's neck, Will Lennox laughed as Hide translated for him. "She has you beat there, old man. Didn't you say something to me about 197? Do we need to go on a raid before she gets back?"

**"I look forward to hearing about every kill in detail, my mate. My newly claimed socket,** Major William Lennox, **the commander of our native organic allies,"** Ironhide said by way of introduction. **"He, along with his mate, whom I have also claimed, and their daughter share my quarters, and we hope that you and any you have claimed will do so as well. Despite Ratchet's whining, there is enough space here that our quarters are the largest we've had since Iacon fell."**

**"I haven't had a claimed socket since** Aquilia," she shook her head. **"Though I am looking forward to sharing your berth again. Am I displacing anyone who'll care?"**

**"My berth, and _any_ who might wish they could remain there, are yours, my spark,"** Hide said in close to a growl. The heat coming off of him just seeing his longtime mate was enough to make Will shift with near discomfort before the ancient mech's fans kicked in.

**"Take it your quarters!"** Someone called with mock disgust from behind Chromia. **"Some of us have to eat today."**

She turned and huffed at the speaker. **"As if it's anything we haven't done."**

**"Not with _him_ around!"** The distress seemed more real. **"Come on, it's six joors before we get there. At least take it to private comm where you can overload yourselves."**

Ironhide grunted and chuckled. **"The vorns away certainly haven't changed the attitudes. You can bring them along for the fun once I've had you to myself, if they dare."**

**"Chromia, if we don't get ole' Hide cooled off down here, I'm going to have yet another patient crowding my medbay."** Ratchet chimed in innocently.

**"Very well,"** she chuckled. **"As soon as I've cleared medbay, we're going to catch up on everything, my plasma."**

**"Prowl was feeling extra generous and put me on leave for the next three solar cycles. We'll have plenty of time to do _nothing_ but catch up."** the weapons specialist responded with a smirk, stepping back and making room for Optimus to step back into view.

**"Well done, Chromia. While I regret your losses, you bring far more with you than we had hoped. We look forward to welcoming you and all who are with you shortly. You will find you are coming to a far more hopeful situation than we have been in for some time."**

**"That is excellent news, Prime,"** her voice returned to it's normal professionalism. **"We will be ready for intake when we land."**

* * *

The Long Shot kept radio silence for its short journey through the solar system toward the third planet, not wanting to attract any undesired 'Con attention. Though at this point, the 'Cons were so battered from two major losses, plus Mirage and Jazz's recent activities that the likelihood of an attack seemed slim, one could never rule out desperation or revenge.

Everyone gathered by Diego Garcia's main runway vented in relief when a quick databurst let them know the Long Shot had cleared Mars and again when the modified boarding craft entered earth's atmosphere over western Australia.

The senior staff were gathered on the tarmac, the recent tension lost in the excitement of so many new arrivals. Ratchet and First Aid were on hand, along with a couple of hover-stretchers and some NEST team members with flat-bed trucks to transport those in stasis. Ratchet looked thoroughly perturbed, likely due more to his substandard medbay than those who were soon to fill it. Many more, who were not needed, but curious and excited were milling around.

Will stood near Prime to be the human military representative. Sam was on hand as well, as the civilian Autobot liaison to their allies.

"There she is," Prime said to Will and Sam, pointing to a spot in the sky they could not yet see southeast. All eyes and optics were now looking in that direction, none more intent that Ironhide's.

Shimmerfire and Silver Bolt lead the Aerialbots, Tread Bolt and Skyfire to greet them and escort them in. Of them, the young Seeker was by far the most excited, her wings nearly quivering in anticipation of meeting a true warrior Seeker.

::Hey lover,:: Chromia's rich voice rolled over him across his private line. ::You're looking good. I hope your berth is reinforced.::

::I hope _you've_ been reinforced. I wouldn't want to break your valve.:: Ironhide teased right back, his own valve clenching just at the sound of her voice over his private comm after so long.

::As if you're getting the chance to find out today!:: she laughed eagerly. ::I had the top count, contested kill or not. Your chassis is _mine_ tonight.::

::I'll spar you for rights the second time around then,:: he growled seductively, loving the game even though there was nowhere he'd rather be than underneath her being fragged to oblivion by her hot spike.

::If I win that, you'll play out any kinky idea I tell you to,:: she challenged right back.

"Jazz, does Shimmerfire seem unusually excited to you?" Prowl asked quietly as they watched the Autobot Seekers and Aerials greet Long Shot over the ocean and turn around to escort her in.

"Given they're a proven Seeker warrior of rank on board, nope," he shook his head with a grin. "We're going to get quite a show soon. Both ov'm are Actions; there's no natural Order on world. It'll be messy until they work out who's going to lead."

Another human came jogging up to the bonded mechs, out of breath.

"I just couldn't miss the show. How many did you say are arriving?" Miles asked his lovers, giving an appreciative whistle as Shimmerfire and the Aerials obviously showed off for the incoming craft and her crew.

"Six mechs as walking wounded, not that they'll admit it," Prowl said evenly over Jazz's snicker. "Three socket organics, one mech in medbay, nine in medical stasis and one in transport stasis."

"Or seventeen mechs and three organics," Jazz quipped.

"Ratchet blown a gasket yet? He sure isn't going to be getting much recharge anytime soon," the young man grinned, stroking a silver and white leg.

**"Is Killblade really on board?"** Sideswipe asked no one in particular as he and his brother skated up, their finish to an unusually perfect shine. **"And Rollbar?"**

**"Yes,"** Ironhide huffed, his second set of fans already working hard from all the things Chromia was saying over his private line. **"Plenty of mechs to spar against now."**

Further verbal conversation was impossible as the Aerials and Seekers buzzed those assembled before banking upward and Long Shot's own engines roared even as she gracefully landed, stopping far sooner than any human craft ever could, much less one so large. When the sand settled Long Shot extended her ramp and Chromia walked out, a chocolate brown canine biped with blood red markings next to her and the remainder of the ambulatory crew behind them.

"Greetings Lord Prime," Chromia bowed respectfully to him. "May I introduce my battle-ready crew?"

"Of course," Prime smiled at her, his optics glancing over familiar mechs, lingering longer on each of the three very different organics. "It is good to finally welcome the **Zerstörerz** Zerstörerz to Earth."

"**Flak** Flak, my current SIC until **Springer** Springer is repaired and a good military planner," she motioned to the tank-based olive green and brown mech who saluted Prime.

"**Jolt** Jolt, our medic," she indicated the smallest mech, lightly armored and electric blue.

"I'm not an official medic, Sirs," Jolt spoke up with a nervous glance at Ratchet. "Just field experience and datafiles."

Ratchet all but pounced on the electric blue mech, putting a paternal arm around his shoulders and guiding him away from the rest. "I'm happy to change that, Jolt. We need all the help we can get around here, starting now. As soon as I've cleared you for duty, you are assigned to me. I'm the only fully trained medic on this insanity we call a base, with two trainees - First Aid here and my socket, a human named Mikaela who is currently doing final prep in our sorry excuse for a medbay. Now why don't you give me the datafiles on all the fraggers we are going to be repairing for the next several lunar cycles. With as many who still have their sparks, you've likely got promise."

Prime watched his CMO with amusement.

"Y-yes, Sir," Jolt responded nervously, which drew an amused look from his CO.

"I'll order him to return your medic when you need him," Prime commented in a wry voice before nodding at Flak. "Welcome, Flak. You will be temporarily assigned to Prowl. We have several missions in the planning stages that your cadre will be quite involved in."

"Yes, Prime," the powerful mech inclined his head respectfully.

**"Dogfight** Dogfight is my Seeker, and currently our only air support," she indicated the powder blue and white Seeker in Cybertronian form.

Dogfight only just managed to nod his respect to Prime, but his optics, his attention, was fixated on the two Seekers in the air, circling.

::Let him go, sir,:: Chromia commed Prime privately. ::He needs to attain his place among your Seekers before he'll stand still enough to deal with.::

Optimus tuned his vocalizer to the Seeker dialect. **"We are pleased to add such a powerful and capable warrior to our air defense, Dogfight. I'm sure you wish to stretch your wings."**

Prime had barely reached the end of his statement when the Seeker launched himself into the air, transforming into his sleek powder blue and white Cybertronian jetform, spiraling upward to join the other two.

Chromia smiled her thanks to him and continued her introductions with a glance at the Twins, who were staring at their energon blue frame-match in her cadre. "**Killblade** Killblade I believe you know from when he on-lined with your infamous Terror Twins. Have you had any news about the other two from that order?"

**"So it's really you,"** Sunstreaker regarded his non-twin brother coolly, though with a touch of emotion that wasn't hate or disdain.

::I had heard you survived and served in the Prime's cadre,:: Killblade regarded them evenly.

"Shadowblade was lost in battle shortly after Tyger Pax, but Sparkstinger is with Ultra Magnus on Metroplex, on their way from Cybertron. Killblade," Prime regarded the proud warrior he had been instrumental in creating along with his brothers, "we always value the skills of our sparked warriors, no matter the havoc they create. They always create far more for the Decepticons. I'm sure your brothers will wish to test your skills once you have been cleared from medbay."

::Frag medbay. Come spar with us now. Hatchet will be so busy there he won't notice if you are cleared now or later.:: Sideswipe added with an eager and deadly look in his optics.

"Thank you, Prime," Killblade bowed deeply in respect that wasn't faked. "It is welcome news that so many of us survived."

::As soon as Prime's not watching me,:: Killblade promised with all the eagerness of his brothers. ::Chromia will approve.::

Chromia smiled at the silent exchange of looks, pleased and relived that long-separated brothers already approved of one another.

"**Rollbar** Rollbar I'm sure you remember as **Ironhide's** Ironhide's prize student," she indicated the gray and brown camo-patterned mech slightly shorter but more heavily armored than she was. "He still likes to take a couple chest shots before pounding opponents to oblivion," she added for Ratchet's benefit.

"And I still like to reformat stupid mechs who injure themselves for no good reason into more useful items, like lawn ornaments," came Ratchet's comment from where he was conferring with First Aid and Jolt as those in stasis were offloaded.

"Welcome Rollbar," Prime nodded, his face twitching in amusement at his CMO in top form. There was no doubt that Ratchet was happy.

Prime stepped aside for Ironhide to greet his former student.

"Still sparked and kicking, huh Rollbar? You look as thick-helmed as ever," Ironhide grunted affectionately. No one could fail to notice that even as he spoke to the mech, his optics kept shifting to the femme whose very presence was making his systems burn.

"Of course," Rollbar grinned, thumping his mentor affectionately on the shoulder. "Don't worry, intros are almost over. She's as eager as you," he added more quietly. "Been twitching for joors."

Chromia managed to keep her focus on Prime better than her mate was as she began introducing the truly new faces in her crew.

"Wolfkat is the alpha, the leader, of my organics," she motioned the very large organic canid biped forward.

"Whoa," Major Lennox breathed in as he comprehended that the nearly eight foot tall predator was of command rank.

"Greetings, Prime," Wolfkat tilted her head right when she dipped it in submission without surrender. "It is good to be on a world we can stay on."

"Welcome, Wolfkat. It is indeed our hope that we can stay, or at least on the moon or one of the neighboring planets once it has been properly terraformed. We have no doubt that this system is now home for the long term." Prime looked at the alien predator with the keen interest he always showed when meeting a new sentient species. "I do not recognize your species. Am I to assume that Chormia and her cadre came upon you in their travels and Jolt installed your socket?

"Yes," she gave a sharp nod, her ears twitching to catch every sound and her thick, long tail flicking at the tip. "Long Shot was in desperate need of repairs when they landed. My sister and I chose to go with them when they left," she motioned to the much smaller feline, only just over five feet tall, that was watching everyone with wide, eager crystal blue eyes and an innocent expression. "Don't let her looks fool you," Wolfkat added with a tolerant smile. "She's as innocent as Jazz, only slightly less trouble than your twins and useless in a fight."

"She's proven her worth many times over as a socket," Chromia added quickly in the tabby's defense.

Prime, in his typical fashion when dealing with those much smaller than himself knelt down to meet the two sisters closer to their own level.

"Then you obviously have been well informed about my SIC and our Twins of Terror. I am relieved that the Zerstörerz have had organics on their team. I am sure it has had much to do with their success and survival. I am well aware that Chromia would not allow any to accompany her who could not hold their own, whether in fighting or sharing. Who is the third organic under your command, Wolfkat?" Prime asked respectfully, looking toward the silvery-white and sky-blue feathered reptilian member of the cadre that stood half as tall as the average mech with a leather and feather wingspan Prime calculated to be two and a half times that.

"Cauver Ser'Onor of Berentia-Patith," Wolfkat worked hard to pronounce his name correctly, even giving a glance back at his swirling, gem-like dark blue eyes for approval. She continued when he dipped his slender, pointed muzzle briefly and settled the crest of iridescent dark blue and green feathers that ran all the way down his spine to the long, thick tail before fanning out at the tip in another display. "He is a good flier and is steadily improving his mastery over energy."

"Thank you for welcoming us, Lord Prime," Cauver lowered his head regally with his eyes half shuttered, his feathers flat and his wings tucked close to his body. Even in such a different form, the signals that said _'I am not a threat to you'_ and _'I submit'_ were easy to pick up. Visual centers not tracking, display features flattened, weapons and special abilities such as wings carefully displayed that they were not about to be used. Yet for all that, Prime had no doubt that this warrior would stand his ground. He looked proud, well-cared for in scales and feathers, and fit.

Prime gave a nod of respect to the powerful organic before gesturing to Sam and Will.

"This is Major William Lennox," he said, including Chromia in the more formal introduction than she had been given earlier. "He is the commander for all of the humans on base who are a part of our military alliance which we call NEST. Major, would you be willing to accompany Cauver, Wolfkat, and Shekat to medbay so they can be cleared by Ratchet. I trust Jolt already made the necessary adjustments to your nanites to prevent the spread you from contracting or spreading any organic pathogens on this world, but Ratchet or one of his assistants must still examine you to sign off on the paperwork needed for our allied nations on Earth."

"Of course," the Major nodded, even as he tried to wrap his brain around the two larger ones. Shekat was human-sized. She looked odd, but she was within his normal perspective. Her sister, who looked nothing like her, was head and shoulders over the tallest human he knew, and the dragon was twice Shekat's height. "The sooner you're cleared the sooner you can settle in."

He then turned toward Sam, with the obvious look of both pride and desire that any who knew him well could see. "This is Samuel Witwicky. He is our ambassador to Earth's United Nations and our liaison to the government of our major ally, his home nation. Samuel is not to be taken lightly," he added, seeing the look of doubt in the warrior organics' eyes and in Chromia's optics. "He took on and destroyed Megatron, brought myself and Jazz back from the dead, and has within himself the last remaining energy from the Allspark, which his own life energy is sustaining. Through it he is able to access the wisdom of the ancients and perhaps of Primus himself."

Sam blushed and looked at his feet. "You make is sound a lot more awesome than it really is, Optimus, and besides, big and nasty didn't stay dead," Sam looked up and smiled, "Hi. Welcome to my planet. Mi casa es su casa."

Wolfkat nodded her reluctant acceptance, Shekat just looked at the young human curiously, but it was Cauver that seemed most at ease.

"Thank you, Samuel Witwicky," Wolfkat replied before focusing on Will as she stepped forward, motioning the others to follow her. "The sooner Ratchet clears us, the sooner Cauver can spread his wings and I can I can stretch out and get a good workout in. We've been in Long Shot too long."

**"Are we done with all the slagging diplomacy yet?"** Ironhide growled as the organics and mechs began making their way toward medbay behind the hover stretchers and trucks that were taking their injured comrades.

**"I will go greet Long Shot myself, Chromia,"** Optimus smiled, not even acknowledging Hide's words. **"I think my weapons specialist has been waiting long enough. It is _very_ good to have you back. You are one of the finest among us."** Optimus clasped the shoulder of his former bodyguard and one of the top warriors and commanders of his army. **"Enjoy yourselves. Unless there is an emergency, I have no need to see _either_ of you for three orns cycles. Just...make sure Ratchet gets to see you sometime before, or he will make my life the pit."**

**"Yes sir,"** she grinned at him and turned to her mate.

Prime walked away and suddenly, they were alone save the few mechs and humans who were continuing to unload and service Long Shot.

**"My spark,"** Ironhide purred, pulling her close for a crushing, passionate kiss that she met with equal strength and dominance.

**"My plasma,"** she rumbled in return, already working her fingers into sensitive joints. **"My quarters are closer, love."**

He captured her mouth for another kiss.

::Frag quarters. I want you here.:: he growled over their private comm, refusing to relinquish her for even a moment. His fingers found their way under the thick armor on her shoulders to caress protoform and cables.

Without a second thought she moaned and shuddered under the touch, only to push him to his back and pin him there, rubbing their interface covers together as the kissing heated up, became far more desperate.

He groaned and wrapped his thickly armored legs around her waist, pulling her tighter to himself delicious friction. Sparks began to fly where their armor scraped together. His chestplates cracked open a fraction, allowing her to insert her finger.

**"Frag, you are so perfect. So much beauty and power. Nothing, not even the pit will take you away from me again,"** he growled.

His interface cover opened with a click, his valve clenching and relaxing in anticipation, lubricant freely flowing.

**"You are my perfect plasma,"** she rumbled, kissing her way down his chest to add her glossa to her fingers over his spark. Her interface cover slid back and her spike pressurized quickly as she rubbed against him. **"It's been too long."**

**"You are the victor. Claim you prize,"** he purred into her audio, sucking and biting at the sensory structures on her helm while his arms and legs wrapped even tighter around her, his hands grasping her aft.

She moaned deeply, hungry and burning with need as she shifted her hips and plunged into his valve without restraint, knowing he could take anything she dished out, just as she could take what he did.

**"So hot, so good,"** Chromia shuddered, kissing above his spark as she pressed into his bites.

He pulled her into himself, adding his own strength to her massive thrusts, his own hips slamming up to meet hers. Every sensor in his valve lit up in screaming intensity as the one who could take him like no other staked her claim on him yet again. He felt armor dent on her aft as he continued to assist her urgency, and growled in delight at the marks he left. Their sparks would merge later, when they were not so exposed. All of those nearby working Long Shot were either trying desperately to ignore them or watching them with lust or fascination.

He squeezed her between his massive thighs as though he could hold her within him forever.

**"So close, so slagging hot,"** he arched his chestplates to her mouth, wishing for the moment that he would have been patient enough to find a berth because he wanted to open to her more than anything in the universe.

**"So perfect,"** she arched her backstrut and dug into the tarmac below them. Their mutual need driving them to overload with the unstoppable force of a freight train at full speed barreling down on them. Her vents hitched and her spike burned, her entire frame charged with the power that no one else could incite in her.

She tightened her hands on his heavy armor to give her that much more leverage for the last few thrusts.

Their battle roars echoed across the tarmac as his overload swept through his systems, leaving their frames dancing with a blue static charge. Several of Ironhide's functions briefly offlined as her transfluid shot deep in his valve with several mighty thrusts.

When his systems reset he was gasping hard, overworked systems desperate to cool. **"There is no one like you, no one who comes close to comparing to what you do to me. You _are_ half my spark, whether we are bonded or not."** he gasped into her audios.

**"No one at all, my plasma."** she murmured through gasping intakes, her body slowly cycling to normal status as the intense heat and charge began to dissipate.

She brushed her fingers along his armor, then traced the glyphs on the side of his face gently. **"I prayed to Primus a few times, that I might see you again,"** she admitted with a murmur. **"I never asked to win a battle, or survive damage, only to see you again."**

**"_You_ prayed? You really did miss me,"** he gently teased, his denta and glossa teasing her sensors, even as his spark pulsed in adoration for his perfect mate.

**"And now I want you in my quarters where I can do more than tease your protoform,"** she growled and pulled out of his valve. **"I want your spark."**

* * *

* * *

Character notes:

Sparked Ship:  
**Long Shot**: A small, heavily armored boarding craft modified for long-range missions. Mission crew max of 15.

Mechs  
**Chromia**: Based on G1 Chromia. Cadre leader. Femme, light matte blue and green alien camo pattern, 25ft tall, heavy armor, favors a heavy energy bow.

**Dogfight**: G1 import. Bonded (not trine) to Blaze Master. Air support. A psycho Seeker in the truest sense, he regularly freaks out other Autobots with his Con-like tactics, but he's really just following his core programming as a Seeker. He may be a jet, but he's as front-line as anyone. He's probably held truer to the original Seeker than any other still alive on either side.

**Flak**: G1 import. Missile Tank alt. Military planner, Chromia's SIC. Was TIC when Springer was active.

**Jolt**: medic and fast strike. Only plays crazy to freak the Cons out. Faster, smaller and lighter armored than most dedicated frontliners, he still holds his own very well in Chromia's unit. The unit's medic, though he's only half-trained. Canon (from the toy), with a heavy dose of fandom.

**Killblade**: fast strike. Energon blue with red blades. Pre-programmed warrior. Utterly dedicated to his blades, completely combat oriented, fast as lightning, deadly as hell and proud of his skill. Has only slightly more emotional protocols than Prowl came on line with. What RotF Sideswipe was written to be. Alt .A. Institute SOFIA Concept .com/auto_shows/geneva/2010/1002_idea_four_door_hybrid_ I

**Rollbar**: Military Hummer. Heavy hitter. He was trained to fight by Ironhide, but he never took to the acrobatics of his mentor. He prefers to take a few shots to the chest, just to prove he can, before moving in and pounding the enemy to pieces. Based off RPM Rollbar.

In Stasis/MIA:  
**Blaze Master**: Chopper. G1 import. Bonded (not trine) to Dogfight. Cynical and with no mercy for Decepticons he takes the same gleeful pleasure than Dogfight does in taken them apart. While his bonded likes to go for head-on collision tactics with other Seekers, Blaze Master likes to make himself a target of ground forces, waiting until they notice him and then opening up with napalm-like weaponry to watch his surprised targets melt to slag.

**Getaway**: G1 import. Sports Car. A survivor who uses anything and everything at his disposal to get out alive. Passionate and daring for his cause, he can still remain absolutely cool under pressure. Has been blown up more times than fanon Wheeljack, but always on the battlefield, and always survived. Jazz took him in for a while, trained him well, but in the end he was never suitable (psychologically) for many ops missions, though he was good at what he was sent on. He left on good terms with Jazz and his agents.

**Groundpounder**: G1 import. Earth mover alt. While he has talent as a construction designer, his true gift to the Autobots is his heavy armor and mindset that can be summed up as 'dig in and tear'm up'. He's all about 'point at problem, watch problem go away'. While this caused aggravation for many former commanders and comrades, he fits in perfectly with the Zerstörerz.

**Guzzle**: G1 import. Battle tank alt. While not the best warrior in the army, it's not for lack of trying. He's all about honest assessment and testing himself in battle. While he didn't make many friends in the general army, among the Zerstörerz he's found a home.

**Sidetrack**: G1 import. A duel-barrel tank alt. Simple-minded (though not dumb), black and white view of life that forces his commanders and friends to carefully shield him from the more gray-zone activities that go one. He can be summed up with 'point at problem, watch throw everything at problem until it's slag, point at new problem. He gets along very well with the Zerstörerz SOP.

**Springer**: G1 import. Rocket and Chopper alt. Chromia's long-time lover for the mission, her SIC and a capable commander that not even Dogfight objected to long with a good processor on the battlefield and the skill at backing it up. Old dude too, though not as old as Ironhide or Chromia, much less Kup.

**Twin Twist**: G1 import. Drill Tank alt. A wild scrapper with an untamed, possibly uncontrollable, nature, he horrifies most Autobots with his wild nature in battle and the glory he feels in destroying things, anything, but he's a loyal mech and has found the Zerstörerz very accepting of his nature.

Organics:  
**Shekat**: Total non-com. 5'1". She carries her weight in sharing energy. Total nympho even before her socket implant, she revels in the excuse it brings. She is a core reason why Chromia's cadre is doing so well, and they have found her more than worth the trouble she creates. Created by Gatekat.

**Wolfkat**: Shekat's big sister, she's the sensible 'adult' of the pair, even though she's only a few years older. Combat oriented, she has no fear of a fight and has been known to tackle and disable/kill mechs several times her height of 7'9". She loves her socket implant for its combat and communication uses, though she only shares when it's really important for the survival of the mech. She finds sex generally distasteful, mostly because arousal and her brain chemistry don't really mesh. Physically it works. Mentally, not so much. Created by Gatekat.

**Cauver Ser'Onor of Berentia-Patith**: A 10'4" sky-blue scailed Durikan (dragon-morph) with silver-white belly plates, large leather wings and faceted jewel-tone eyes that tend to reflect his state of mind and body. He has bright metallic colored feathers along his spine and as a crown of hair, along the shoulder joint of his wings and a fan of them at the tip of his tail. He has a few trinkets as piercings, jewelry and woven into as few feathers, but he's basically nude. All the sexual bits are internal on him. He has limited magical training from his homeworld but has spent much of his life so far with Chromia's Cadre. Created by Gatekat.


	49. C&C 4, Frontliners 4: Intake Chaos

**Fandom:** Transformers Bayverse  
**Author:** gatekat and femme4jack on LJ  
**Pairing:** Mikaela Banes/Ratchet, Mikaela/Shekat/Jazz/Flak/Rollbar, Miles/Jolt  
**Rating:** R for female/female and mech/female  
**Codes:** Slash, Het, Femslash, Xeno (Transformer/Human, Human/Organic)  
**Summary:** Mikaela's first job in charge of part of medbay, doing the intact for the ambulatory Zerstörerz', turns out less than great.  
**Notes:** Written in the Dathanna de Gray fanverse (community .livejournal .com/ tf_socket_fics)  
"text" Organic languages translated via socket software  
**"text"** translated Cybertronian.  
~text~ Bond or cable talk ::text:: comm talk

* * *

**Consent and Control 4:  
Frontliners 4:  
Intake Chaos  
**

* * *

Mikaela waited anxiously in Medbay for the arrival of the incoming members of Chromia's cadre, checking for the fifth time that everything was in place to do intake on the good sized number of Autobot warriors who were arriving. She was both amused and concerned by Ratchet's reaction to the designations of those who were arriving. He had been in a foul mood with everyone but her. Even gentle First Aid had been the recipient of his temper.

"Why are you so fucking angry, babe? Aren't you relieved so many have survived?" she had asked, finally exasperated by his snipes at First Aid.

"I'm angry because now it is my job to keep the slaggers alive. And let me tell you, this lot will come up with ever new, creative ways to test my abilities just sparring on the base, never mind engaging the enemy. I'd take the twins over this cadre any day. The Zerstörerz are as addicted to gambling with their sparks as Smokescreen is to gambling his credits."

"But Smokescreen always wins, babe," she commented.

"Until he loses," Ratchet groused before taking out his frustration on her in the most delicious way possible. They would be far too busy for much if anything other than hurried medical charges for those who needed spark stabilization in the coming decaorn. Though she was more than happy to give her orgasms for the sake of the cause, and Ratchet always made the process enjoyable for her, the rushed, professional nature of the process left her feeling more than a little dissatisfied, particularly when they would be so busy that it would be all that Ratchet had time for other than a bit of energon and recharge. It made her really miss the slower days in Medbay before so many had arrived, missions went badly wrong, and bots decided that now was the time to experiment with a form of reproduction abandoned before her galaxy formed.

The rumble of engines announced the arrival of the heavy military trucks bringing in those in stasis, while heavy footfalls and other engines indicated the arrival of those who had been able to transport themselves.

**"In you!"** Ratchet roared from outside, in a far fowler mood than when he'd left. "Mikaela **will give you instructions. And use **English** with her, slag it."**

**"Yes, Sir,"** a new mech's voice responded, along with the softer murmur that she knew was First Aid.

**"Come on, Rollbar, Flak,"** the new mech called back. **"Let's get you two cleared so you can hunt down the others."**

Mikaela took a moment to send affection over her bond with the storming Medic, along with a promise for his just desserts when they got through this. She then took a deep breath and steeled herself for their entrance. Thus far, she had only done routine maintenance and repairs on the most friendly, patient, soft-sparked mechs on base. Bluestreak, Bee, First Aid, and, to her surprise, Ironhide. Ratchet, of course, always put up with her tinkering with his systems, but those lessons usually ended up quite non-academic, though she certainly learned a lot.

But he had made it very clear to her that her days of only having easy mechs to deal with were over. He and First Aid would be tied up for at least the next several decaorn - months - in serious repairs of a cadre that had been surviving off of stripped and scavenged parts for longer than the genus homo had existed. She was now the go-to person for routine maintenance and minor repairs. He made it completely clear that he trusted her, and he was just a thought away. It didn't make her any less nervous, however. She had been around long enough to know that _many_ mechs did not respond as favorably to organics in any other role than spark-charger.

Having calmed herself a little, she looked up as the first of the crew entered Medbay.

Much to her relief it was First Aid who walked in, followed by an electric blue mech similar to Bee in size and to her eye, built with speed and agility in mind. Behind them came an olive green and light brown camo painted mech that bore more than a slight resemblance to Ironhide. Walking next to him was a tannish-green mech nearly as tall as Prime and much heavier built.

"Mikaela," First Aid greeted her with his naturally gentle voice. "This is Jolt. He's their medic. He's had less formal training than you have, though far more experience keeping them functioning under battlefield conditions. He'll be your assistant until Ratchet and I can spare enough time to train him. The camo-paint is Rollbar, one of Ironhide's best students. The big mech is Flak, their SIC and tactical planner."

"Hello, Mikaela," Jolt greeted her with a nervous smile.

"Hi, Jolt," she said, trying to sound confident without giving away that she was suddenly completely uncertain, and her hands, to her utter embarrassment, shaking. There was no slagging way she was ready to have an Autobot as _her_ assistant, especially one with the amount of battlefield repair experience Jolt had.

"So, who'd like to start?" she asked the three, hoping her calm tone displayed her professionalism despite the fact that she felt like her stomach was in her knees.

"With myself, please," a resonating male rumble that was far too high and organic ... and not speaking English she abruptly realized ... spoke up from the ceiling beams above them. "They are happy to be out of the ship, but I haven't _flown_ in three metacycles."

"That would be Caurver, one of our three organics," Jolt spoke up. "Shekat's the small, lighter colored one and Wolfkat the big, dark furred one of the other two," he glanced around to see if he could spot them. "I think they are still on their way with Major Lennox."

"Which means Shekat is trying to 'face him and Wolfkat is trying to talk him into stopping by the training grounds," Flak chuckled.

Mikaela's eyes were riveted to the rafters above, where a large, pale dragon-like shape had taken residence. She was fairly used to aliens at this point in her life ... mechanical ones that was. But most of Wheeljack's assortment were still in orbit sleeping peacefully in stasis. This was a real, honest to God, organic alien. She knew they were coming, but it still did not prepare her for the shock of having a peacock-feathered white-skinned _dragon_ perched above her.

"Hi, Caurver. Why don't you come on down so I can get you cleared as soon as possible. I'm not an organic medic, but I can at least use your socket to make sure that your immuno nanites are behaving as they should. Not that I have any doubt that Jolt wouldn't have gotten them right, but either Ratchet, First Aid or myself are required to sign off on the paperwork to give you clearance to reside in Autobot territory on earth."

"Of course," the large creature spread wings that began with iridescent blue and green feathers to the wrist, but instead of flight feathers, the outer half of his wings were the gleaming blue-tinted white of his skin stretched between long, thin fingers like a bat. With the accuracy and speed of a diving hawk, he launched, descended and landed before her on two theropod feet. Great wings folded and she found herself looking up at a biped _dragon_ twice her height.

Without being asked to, he dropped to his hands and curled his serpentine neck around so she could have easy access to the socket installed just below his skull.

_First time for everything_ she thought. It was certainly going to be an interesting orn. "I'm going to initiate a simple scan using an organic to organic cable connection. I'm already hooked into the medbay scanners wirelessly," she explained, probably unnecessarily, but it seemed right to state what she was doing.

She opened her kit and pulled out the correct cable, connecting her own socket to his.

~Are you ready for the scan?~ she asked.

~Yes, Mikaela,~ he responded, the tenor of his mind relaxed about her but anxious to be in the _sky_.

She signaled the Medbay system to initiate appropriate scan of his immune system and the nanites now controlling those functions, and received a nearly instant response that there were no dangerous pathogens in his system, and that he was protected from any that could potentially mutate to harm him on earth.

~Anything else you'd like for me to scan while I'm hooked in?~ she asked gently, keeping her presence as professional and calm as she was able.

~No thank you,~ he told her politely. ~I feel good other than stiff flight muscles from lack of use. I will come if I have not worked out the kinks within two orn.~

Mikaela disconnected and made a note on the datapad which would forward the appropriate pile of signed paperwork to Prowl to distribute to the various human bureaucracies.

"Thank you, Caurver. Please do come back and see us again, and not just for check ups. And Ratchet wants to know if you have _any_ acclimation issues, and he will want First Aid or himself to do a more thorough scan once we've done all the other intakes. Enjoy your flight."

"I will," the dragon-morph agreed easily and stood up on two legs with the muscular grace of a serpent. He walked out with as much speed as his sense of dignity would allow and launched into the sky as she watched.

She inwardly relaxed. That had gone well.

"I guess I should be next," Jolt said. "So I can help you."

"Yes, you definitely should," she said more quickly than she intended, frustrated with her own nerves. Where was the fucking bravery Ratchet was always going off about. Was she or was she not the woman who took a crippled Bee into battle, but then again, how long was she going to ride that train.

She scrambled up the ramp to her specialized medberth and nodded at Jolt to have a seat as she got out her datapad. Her first impression was of battle scoring. His frame, as lovely as it was, had seen _a lot_ of action. His self-repair obviously had been too busy with other more critical systems to tend to cosmetic issues.

"Well, obviously you've seen a lot of action. How are your self-repair systems?" She asked to break the ice.

"They've kept me battle ready, as much as anyone in the cadre, but that's about it," he admitted without apparent shame. "We haven't had a real medic in a very long time."

"Well, I'm not sure Ratchet would agree. During those rare moments when he hasn't been cursing since your cadre entered the system, he has been talking about how many of you are coming back in stasis rather than as salvage. He was really impressed, Jolt, and to be honest, I think I should be acting as your assistant here," she admitted, turning so that he could plug into her recently upgraded socket that Wheeljack had designed to assist her in Medbay.

"Plug in please and I'll access the scanners. You could do it yourself, but Ratchet wants me to have the practice and he says that he doesn't trust medics to accurately report their conditions. That was the polite version."

Every mech within audio range chuckled or gave knowing looks. She caught a less than subtle flicker of embarrassment from him as he plugged in before he controlled what she felt.

"Never trust warriors, either," someone quipped.

"We haven't had a trained medic, then," he offered. "I'm still better at taking mechs apart than putting them back together."

Mikaela laughed at the response before taking a deep breath, ordering her natural 'plugged in' physiological responses to stay in check. Fortunately, there had been an actively sharing organic on their ship, or Jolt's own need would have likely been overwhelming to her no matter how much he tried to shield it.

~Initiating scan,~ she said, trying to sound professional rather than breathless.

She accessed the scanners and initiated a basic diagnostic scan of Jolt's systems, while simultaneously climbing up on his frame to examine his joints and seams for signs of corrosion, making mental note of the need for some retooling in his left knee joint and the replacement of several degraded couplings. It would be interesting to see if the scan agreed with her assessment.

"How many of your cadre organics share?" she asked as she continued, moving to investigate his arm from the shoulder down while his cadre-mates watched her with an intensity that reminded her all too much of what Sunstreaker and Shimmerfire had been like when Sideswipe had been in critical condition.

"Shekat is primary. She looks for any excuse. Caurver is agreeable most orns, and is always willing if someone needs it. Wolfkat ... I managed to talk her into it once, and I'm not convinced it did more good than harm. It left her shivering and Springer came very close to shutting down. I have no idea why, other than her inherent lack of interest being far more intense than anyone anticipated."

She was about to ask something when it was thrust from her mind by an intense burst of raw, physical pleasure and Jolt's entire frame stiffened with a shuddering moan. She stifled a moan of her own and would have been beat red had her olive completion not hidden it.

"Sorry!" she said breathlessly, her ability to remain unaroused while connected coming completely undone.

"Look up 'hot spots' for each of us," Jolt managed to gather his wits and self-control. "They are in the files I gave Ratchet. My whips connect there. Between sensors and relays it's ... intense," he apologized.

Mikaela found herself smirking as she accessed the information. It was a good thing to know. There was more than just one way of subduing a patient, after all. Of course, she had yet to find _the_ spot on Ratchet, which gave her all sorts of wicked ideas.

"Intense ... yeah. That is a pretty amazing spot. Do you happen to know if Ratchet has any of those?" she asked as she more carefully continued her examination.

"Every mech has at least one," Jolt chuckled. "Most are relatively obvious; it's almost always somewhere that requires a lot of power, sensors or both to function. The connectors required for my whips are complex and very sensitive to perform their function. Pedes and wheel wells are common, and for those with advanced sensors, whatever those input parts are will be. Sensor wings like Prowl's, wings on anything that flies, rotor blade assembly for choppers and airfoils ... whatever part of the mech needs or has had the most sensory impute dedicated to it is your best bet."

"I will definitely keep that in mind. Hands. It must have something to do with his servos."

Mikaela realized at this point that she had been giving a far more thorough examination that was absolutely necessary for intake. She also was quite aware that Jolt would be working in Medbay, and considering the amount of free time she had spent plugged in to both the CMO and his apprentice...

She shook her head, trying to get her mind back on task, noting that the Medbay sensor had been pinging her for some time with the results of the scan, confirming exactly what she had seen with her eye and felt with her fingers, as well as some internal patches that could use replacement.

~So, a few patches, six degraded couplings, and your left knee joint needs retooling and a lot of down time with proper energon levels for your self-repair systems to catch up. All things considering, in pretty good shape for how long it has been. I'm also going to put in a note about an update to your self-repair systems, likely for your whole cadre, and a full wax, polish and touch up. I'm happy to do the later when I get a free afternoon.~

He gave a low rev of a powerful engine that vibrated right through her. ~Promises, promises,~ he grinned wickedly before disconnecting. "So who's next?" he latched his optics on her potential victims.

"The organics," Major Lennox called up. "This one," he specified as he attempted to disentangle a biped brown tabby feline, maybe five feet tall, from his person under the highly amused gaze of a much larger chocolate brown biped canine with blood red markings that was looking down at them. "So Jazz and Miles can have her."

"Hi there, I'm Mikaela. Come on up, there is plenty of room. What exactly do Jazz and Miles get you for?" Mikaela asked with amusement as Jolt stood.

"To show me around and introduce everyone who hasn't claimed a socket yet," a decidedly _young_ sounding voice, perky to the point of near-irritation, answered as the nearly naked feline made the distance to the berth top in a single graceful leap and swung around to sit on the edge. Her ears flickered back and forth as she moved her long deep chocolate brown hair aside to offer her socket. "I'm Shekat."

"It was generally agreed that between them they might manage to keep her entertained long enough for the rest of us to settle in," Flak chuckled with an amused rumble.

Mikaela smiled at the highly feminine felinoid and tried to resist the urge to give her a stroke.

"Jolt, how about you do intake on Wolfkat so Will can show him the range," she suggested as she turned her attention to the feline.

"Sure," he trilled agreeably at her before pinging her socket. ::FYI. Wolfkat is a female; Shekat's older sister. Your mistake doesn't bother her.::

::How gender stereotyped of me,:: she laughed back even as she glanced at the canine biped that Jolt hooked into. The pair couldn't look more different to a human eye. Not just in size, but in manner. Wolfkat looked pure military, from her stance to her size, to the light body armor she wore as an apparent matter of course.

"So, I understand you, along with Jolt, are the two main reasons your cadre has remained so healthy," she commented as she removed the correct cable from her kit.

"So they keep saying," Shekat smiled up at her, careful not to show her teeth, her dark-tipped tail flicking gently. "I don't understand it, but when a bunch of folks who get rid of anybody who can't fight well enough keeps somebody like me around, I must be helping a lot."

"Not a bad deal at all for us, is it?" Mikaela responded with a wink, plugging in the cable before suddenly sitting down with a moan. Shekat's presence was nothing short of primal lust in the best sort of way, and, of course, completely unfiltered.

"Wow," Mikaela said, attempting to calm her own instant reaction.

~Something wrong?~ Ratchet instantly asked, sounded far less patient than he normally did when he reached across the bond. ~Second time I've felt that from you. Are they giving you problems? Initiating things you don't want? So help me I will weld their...~

~It's okay, babe. I accidentally touched Jolt's hotspot, and now I'm hooked up to the galaxy's most amorous feline. But if I make it though today without sharing _someone_ senseless, it will quite an accomplishment.~

~All right,~ he grumbled. ~If you need relief, call me. None of these fraggers are going into surgery today. Get your assistant to deal with Shekat if she's too much,~ he gave her a quick brush of affection before backing of from their connection.

~Ok, I'm going to initiate a scan,~ Mikaela told her breathlessly, amazed that the feline could be this aroused just innocently sitting the way she was.

~Okay,~ Shekat responded chipperly, apparently oblivious to the strain on the other female.

::Wolfkat is good,:: Jolt pinged her. ::She may go with Lennox and Epps?::

::Good to go. Is Shekat ... is she always this turned on? I'm having trouble concentrating here, and all I have to do is initiate a scan,:: she bemoaned, glad Jolt had left the comm line open as she wasn't sure she could have opened one herself.

Mikaela tried once again to focus as she had been taught on requesting the proper scan. She felt Jolt cast a mild scan at Shekat, and chuckled across the line. ::Actually she's pretty mellow at the moment. Stressed about all the unknowns.::

::Primus on a pogo stick. Can you get a charge from her just by passively plugging in when she is knitting or something?::

::Frequently, except her hobbies are far more sexual,:: he chuckled. ::There's good reason we gladly put up with her hopelessness in battle, that she's a danger magnet and turns to pranking when she isn't stimulated enough. Her energy is well worth all that and more, even in a dedicated front-line cadre like ours.::

Mikaela finally managed to initiate the scan, which quickly showed that Shekat's immunonanites were in order just as Caurver's.

~Everything looks good, sweetie,~ Mikaela said before disconnecting. "Ratchet or First Aid will want to do a more thorough exam on you and your sister once things have settled down. I'll just comm Jazz and Miles to let them know you are ready. So, anything I can get you until they come?" Mikaela asked, sitting next to the voluptuous feline on the berth.

"I don't need anything," she purred and leaned into Mikaela, nuzzling her neck as both hands found their way to the young woman's body. "But you do."

Mikaela gasped, her own arousal suddenly spiking at the utter newness of it all. While she'd been with several aliens and enjoyed the experience thoroughly, she'd never been with an organic one. And she'd never been with a woman before. Now she was being caressed by all three - furry, alien, woman.

She finally gave in to the desire she'd had since the lovely tabby had come up to the berth and began to stroke her silky fur.

The purring deepened and Shekat took it as a request for more. Familiar with clothing, she made short work of getting Mikaela's shirt loose and pushed up so her hands could explore the expanse of nearly bare skin all the way up to her bra.

"You smell good," she purred against Mikaela's throat, nuzzling her again as she caressed and squeezed the woman's firm breasts.

Mikaela moaned, her hands continuing to stroke the soft fur and then venturing to cup the feline's ample breasts, finally giving in completely to her own lust-filled curiosity and placing her face in the silk-covered cleavage and inhaling the intoxicating, primal alien scent.

"Ohh, yes," Shekat purred, her tail lashing behind her as she gently pressed Mikaela back on the berth. "Anybody want to plug in?" she cooed to the three mechs in the room.

~Mik?~ Ratchet was suddenly with her, the tenor of his mind half way between fragged off and turned on.

Before she could reply, Mikaela found herself the center of very intense attention from three sets of optics that had, unknown to her, moved to surround the berth.

"I should be doing your intakes," Mikaela lamented, trying to hold on to one last strand of professional dignity even as she nuzzled and ran her hands over the richly exotic fur.

_A hand scanner. Couldn't they have given her a hand scanner?_ She suddenly wondered if Wheeljack and Ratchet had done this to her on purpose. Why did a scan require her to be plugged in, anyhow?

~I ... I'm ok babe. You ok with me doing some sharing here? I'm not sure I can hold back any longer.~

~If you really wish to, I'll be okay with it,~ he decided. ~But for every time you come for another, you will submit to me for one.~

~It's either that or you storm in and whisk me away for some punishment, cause I'm about to be a very bad girl.~

~So tempting,~ he rumbled. ~But it will do the lot of them some good to get a charge and I can _smell_ that feline over here. No wonder these miscreants are still functioning.~

Meanwhile Shekat had freed one hand and was looking for the organic-organic connection cable so they could share fully with each other and all three mechs.

Mikaela's last shred of resolve dissolved at the her lover's resonant voice and permission, even though she knew he did not require it.

~I'll let you punish me later, then,~ she replied, wondering just when she had started going for female fur covered creatures and deciding it was best not to think about it, just like she didn't really think about it when she got turned on by an utter geek and then later by a chartreuse Hummer with an attitude.

She pulled her kit over so she could reach the sought after cable and plugged herself in to the feline, looking up at the heated optics standing around the berth.

"Well?" she asked in a saucy tone. "What about it? Anyone want a charge, or are Shekat and I just going to play here for our own recreation."

"Plug in," Shekat purred again as she went for Mikaela's pants, quickly working out how to get it unbuttoned and off while the mechs joined their link.

If being hooked into sex personified in the form of a feline woman was intense, feeling three mechs, all eager to please and enjoy the results was enough to drag a moan from her as her body stiffened.

~You boys just take it,~ Shekat demanded playfully across the five-way connection. ~Feel what it's like with just us.~

Without words, all three agreed, their excitement palatable.

Mikaela almost asked Shekat to reconsider that proposal. She was anxious to get her hands on some metal and feel new spikes sink in to her cunt, but then again, no one said there couldn't be a round two, and the more passive excitement she felt from the new minds connected with her own was enough to give her all the ammunition she would need to continue this bizarre course of events.

That is when she heard a very familiar mech's laughter from the Medbay entrance, along with a familiar human voice exclaiming, "Holy shit!" before cracking up.

Shekat looked up and felt nothing but extra excitement at the new arrivals.

**"Gr-eet-in-gs, J-a-zz,"** she purred at the small silver mech. **"J-oin?"**

"Out Miles!" Mikaela practically hissed. Some parts of her life just didn't need mixing, and her ex's geeky best friend mixing with her first three-mech two-socket orgy was one of those things.

Miles pouted. "I could just hook into Jazz passively. I'll close my eyes. No peeking, I promise," he snickered.

**"J-a-zz, s-pi-ke?"** Shekat lifted her ass and flicked her tail up along her back.

"Hey, why does he get to play?" Rollbar complained.

**"He S-I-C."** Shekat hissed at the warrior. **"New."**

"Hear that, I'm special," Jazz teased them even as he walked towards the berth. "Besides, I can't disappoint her, now can I?"

**"No,"** Shekat purred and wiggled her ass invitingly.

Miles watched the whole scene unfolding with a pout, especially as he was merrily abandoned by _his_ silver sex addicted mech. Then he broke into a wicked grin.

"Ok, if Mik won't let me play, who wants a private treatment from the SIC's socket?"

Three sets of optics went to Jazz, who laughed playfully. "Ya'll know mah rules. Have fun."

Jazz stroked Shekat's back and reached out to caress Mikaela in question, asking if he was welcome by her.

Jolt disconnected from the gathering even as Jazz logged in.

"I'd like to," the small electric blue mech rumbled and walked towards the human male. "My name is **Jolt** Jolt."

Miles grinned at the new mech. "Hey dude. I'm Miles. Want to head to our quarters or one of the private Medbay rooms, since Mik doesn't want me in here?"

Mikaela felt about a thousand thoughts fly through her head in the moments between when Jazz and Miles walked in and the point she was at now, naked with a feline alien and surrounded by three mechs, only one of which she knew at all. The chaos in her head finally settled on a few facts.

She was totally pissed off at herself and felt ashamed. This was her first time 'on her own' in medbay, and after two exams she was naked and on her way to having a socket orgy. She wanted to be respected as Ratchet's assistant, not seen as the easy energizer bunny. It was one thing to get some help from friends, and have a lot of fun at the same time, setting up Ratchet for her punishment. This was very different.

"Actually, Miles, don't worry about it," she said, disconnecting herself from the group and gathering up her clothes after an apologetic stroke to the constantly in heat feline. "I'm going to go take a breather," she gave a wave to the rest of the mechs and fled to the doorway leading to their apartment.

"Miles?" the feline purred, instantly ready to let another take the human woman's place.

The young man was looking at her and a flicker of a memory from the Nemesis was all it took for him to shake his head.

"Why don't you show me to your quarters? My spark is well-fed," Jolt offered.

"Sounds great. We'll be back for you later, Shekat. Have fun dudes," Miles gave them all a bright smile that to Jolt's optics didn't look quite sincere on the boys face.

"Hope I didn't hurt her feelings," he murmured to Jolt as they exited medbay, "I'm getting over a bad time from when I was on the Nemesis. Didn't think that would trigger it, but it did."

"Nah," Jolt assured him as they walked, the warrior-medic taking in everything he could. "She's as difficult to upset for more than a few nanokliks as I'm told Jazz is."

Jazz cursed inwardly at Mikaela's bolting, immediately assured his bonded that things would be fine, there was just a little social issues confusion he needed to help work out, gave Shekat and apologetic caress and headed after Ratchet's. He had no doubt that the two Zerstörerz could handle their organic.

Mikaela had dressed quickly and was sitting at her human-sized dining table fuming.

"Good move, Mik. Way to make a first impression. First you get all hot and bothered doing intake exams, and then you freak out and bolt from the people who want to help you with that condition."

~Mik,~ came the unmistakably worried voice of her beloved Hummer.

~Stay put, Ratch, at least one of us needs to stay professional. I just got myself in too deep and had to get out of it. Only my pride that's hurt.~

A light knock on the door warned her that her escape hadn't been entirely clean.

"Mikaela ... mind if ah come in?" Jazz sounded concerned.

"Fuck," she murmured, sending a signal to the door to slide open.

"I suppose you want to tell me how unprofessional I was today, not to mention what a bitch I am for teasing a brand new alien socket and three mechs before abandoning them," she blurted out, knowing very well that it wasn't what Jazz had come to say to her.

"Nah," he shook his head and sat down near her, bringing them almost optic to eye level. "But ya did answer what ah wanted ta know. None of'm 'll hold it against ya."

"Fuck," she whispered again, wiping her now wet eyes furiously, adding the fact that she was crying in front of her superior to the list of things she was pissed at herself for that day.

"It's okay," he reached out to gently stroke her back. "No one's expectin' ya to be perfect on your first orn. Ya did nothin' wrong."

"Maybe not to you," she murmured. "But this was really important to me. First time I was in charge, and I become a fucking slut, just like I was in high school. Maybe it is too much to hope for, but I want people to respect me for something other than the kind of orgasms I have."

"Why wouldn't we?" he sounded honestly confused. "Even the Twins think more of their socket than that."

"Because I couldn't keep my clothes on the first time I did intakes by myself," she complained, "what would you say to one of your team, Jazz, who had a job to do and ended up facing someone instead? They wouldn't be on your team for very long, I bet. If I weren't Ratchet's socket, what do you think _his_ reaction to me would be today, first time he left me in charge."

"No one on mah team goes out without at least five _vorns_ of training directly under meh and a select few others," Jazz pointed out. "Now Ratchet, yeah, ah'm sure 'e woulda preferred if ya did the job in full. But ah also know he's not happy that he had ta turn ya loose this soon. Maybe more ta th' point, ya really shouldn't have plugged inta Shekat. Ya had no way a knowing what she'd do ta ya, and her mechs did nothin' ta stop it."

"Well...yeah...I guess, but I wasn't plugged into her when I let her convince me. I mean...I've never even done it with a girl before, and suddenly I was ready to get it on with an alien feline I'd never met before in front of three mechs without Ratchet there. I'm not sure I can _do_ this. At the very least Jolt should be in charge and I should be assisting."

Her eyes overflowed with tears as she realized what was bothering her the most.

"It isn't ever going to matter how much training Ratchet gives me, Jazz. I shouldn't be in there. My brain can't do the tiniest fraction of what you guy's processors can do, I'll never be able to remember enough to really be useful, and all I really am good for is my sex drive."

"That's not what ah hear from him," he said softly, still stroking her back. "It's true, ya'll never know as much as an intern medic. That isn't what you're specialty is in there. Small hands, a delicate touch, willing ta work hard and get it done." He sighed softly. "It's been so long for most of us we forget how little any of you know about socket culture, about what a mech thinks when they chose one. Ratchet put you in charge cause he _believes_ you deserve it."

Mikaela leaned into the touch, finally allowing herself to be comforted. "That is what he always says. He...he's always trying to get me to see what _he_ sees in me. I guess I keep wondering when he's going to figure out that I really am just the evil jock concubine like Miles used to call me."

She gave him a weak smile.

"This all just seems too good to be true, and I want to live up to what he sees in me, and I'm terrified I'm not going to. I'm so scared of losing him to my own stupidity that I won't even tell him that I love him."

Maybe it was the fact that she gave him medical charges daily for a month while he was in stasis, or that she was there when he woke up and was connected the first time he merged with Prowl after coming back, but Mikaela was finding herself admitting things to the silver SIC that she had hardly admitted to herself.

"Ah'll let ya in on a secret," he whispered conspiratorially, his tone deadly serious. "Every mech on Earth feels the same way. Every mech with a socket's terrified one day they'll wake up and decide they made a terrible mistake. Ratchet ... he loves you, utterly and completely. He doesn't even have a lover of his own kind in favor of his socket."

"I know, I mean...I didn't know that...but I know what Ratchet is giving up," she whispered, "and that is what is so fucking terrifying to me. I'm used to being the pretty girl that was an accessory to whatever hot jock was interested at the time. Sam terrified me, because in his own way he loved me, but he still left. He belonged to Bee before he ever would admit it. I'm pretty used to people not sticking around once they know what I'm really like or find something that interests them more. Being loved this way...it's terrifying. Because what if you really love someone, and then the next thing you know, they're gone? It's a hell of a lot easier being the accessory and not really caring."

She sighed, trying to get herself back together.

"I'm being really self indulgent. I should get back to work, go try to be this person Ratchet thinks I am."

"Mikaela," a gentle clawed finger stopped her from standing, something in his manner shifting, becoming more personal. "You're talking to the master of not caring. I've spent the lifetimes of more Primes there than not. It's worth the risk, the pain ... it's worth _everything_."

She wilted into him, clinging to his chassis, knowing that he likely understood what she was feeling better than she did herself. "I know...so worth it, but it totally fucks with my head. Most of the time I'm fine, and then I have a day like today where I just wanted so much to be the person he thinks I am, to prove to myself that he's right about me and I'm not just some shallow brainless chick who will spread her legs for anyone like everyone thought I was. And I know that really isn't an issue now. I can be as sexual as I want and it doesn't make me shallow or a slut...but its hard to get rid of that in my head when its what I heard for so long...that the only thing I was good for was my looks or for a lay."

"Willin' ta take ah page outa Prowl's playbook in reclaiming meh?" He asked quietly as he cradled her against his warm mental.

She nodded silently, appreciating the comfort of someone she was _not_ sexually involved with, as magnetic and gorgeous a mech as he was, and as easy as it would have been to go from complaining about her lack of self-control to having no self control.

"For every year you've had your current view of yourself, give yourself a year ta learn something new," he said gently, stroking her back as she trembled. "You're so young, even for an unclaimed human, to think ya're hopeless. Ya have so many more years than you had before to find your place."

It was good advice. Great advice actually. What was behind her in her life was nothing compared to what she had in front of her. She sat and thought about it for several moments as Jazz continued to stroke her back.

"That Prowl is a pretty amazing mech," she finally said. "That is some damn fine advice. I guess it makes sense why Ratchet can be so patient with what a fucked up mess I am. There are a lot of years for me to get out of the self-centered insecure teenager phase, even if I always look like a teenager."

"Yes, he is amazing," Jazz's voice dropped to one that speaking of his bonded ... any of the five ... could invoke from him. "Unique in the best ways. And yes, you and Ratchet both have a very long time for you to grow out of the teenager phase. Don't give up on yourself just yet, at least not until _he_ gives up on ya," he quirked a grin at her.

"Thanks, Jazz. Now we'd better get out of here before I lose control with you, too," she said, finding herself heating up at the continued touch and kindness from the silver mech. She had far too many good associations of being plugged into his still form while Ratchet did devastating things to her for the sake of his spark.

"Now ah'd hardly call that a bad thin'," he chuckled even as he released her and moved to stand. "But ya do have work ta do, and ah have a feline to extract from 'er mechs."

"I do, but maybe sometime when I don't, I can give you a charge while you're awake instead of sleeping. The way Miles brags about you, you'd think you were Gods greatest gift to organics throughout the known universe."

"Well, ah can't say I'd disagree," he cycled his purple visor in a wink and walked out into her part of the medbay and the full-on three way with Shekat, Flak and Rollbar. "This could take ah bit."

Before Jazz could say a word, Mikaela strode into medbay like she owned the place.

"All right you glitches. What do you think this is? The Lone Star? Maybe you think you can just plug in anytime anywhere there, but around here we have some rules. Rule number is that this is the medbay. When Ratchet isn't here, I'm in charge. Jazz, I want that socket out of here and not distracting these mechs. Shekat, go with Jazz. He'll make it worth your while - he owes you a good spiking. Flak, Rollbar, do whatever you need to do to overload _now_ so you can concentrate on your slagging duties. We've got a whole fragging crew wandering base making problems, and they need to be where they are supposed to be, right here, within half a joor, or there is going to be hell to pay. Everyone understand?"

Two mechs looked at her with startled expressions, but echoed 'Yes, Ma'am' answered over Jazz's hysterics behind her.

~Miles, ya might want to finish up with Jolt and get him back here before Mik hunts you down. Apparently she's channeling Ratchet for the joor,~ Jazz reached out to his socket, all the while trying very hard to stop snickering and failing completely.

Mikaela felt her mouth curl in pleasure when the two frontliners did as ordered, their groans and the shudder of overload passing through their frames in less than half a minute.

"All right, Shekat, let's go introduce ya ta mah socket, mah spike and mah bonded, then the rest of the folks ya can 'face at will," he grinned and extended a hand, only to find the felinoid jumping to scramble up his chassis and settle curled on his shoulders and around his neck.


	50. SSU12, C&C5, FL5, EB 1: Blade Brothers

**Fandom:** Transformers Bayverse  
**Author:** gatekat and femme4jack on LJ  
**Pairing:** Sunstreaker/Ma-le, Sunstreaker/Sideswipe/Killblade, Ratchet/Mikaela Banes, Jolt/Killblade  
**Rating:** NC-17 for mech/female  
**Codes:** Slash, Twincest, Incest, Sticky, Violence  
**Summary:** Killblade heads to the training grounds to spar with Sunny and Sides to reestablish their warrior-brother-bond.  
**Notes:** Written in the Dathanna de Gray fanverse (community .livejournal .com/ tf_socket_fics)  
**"text"** translated Cybertronian.

* * *

**Sunny Side Up 12:  
Frontliners 5:  
Consent & Control 5:  
Electric Blades 1:  
Blade Brothers**

* * *

Killblade made short work of disappearing from the meet and greet to follow his brothers. As eager as Chromia was to reconnect with Ironhide, he was to renew the long-dormant brother-bond with the Twins. It hadn't been very hard to separate from them, they were all pre-programmed warriors after all, but now with the prospect of being together again his spark was lunging in it's case and his battle-programs primed to fight, 'face and merge with the pair in that order.

He skated after them, easily catching up with the silver and gold pair, his energon blue changing their reflected colors as much as theirs changed his.

It felt good just to be near others of his original cadre again. Common wisdom said that brother bonds didn't exist past the youngling stage, but the five of them from the Bladewarrior project knew otherwise. They weren't strong bonds, not like the accepted kinds of bonds, not even as strong as the trine bonds of the Seekers, but it was very real to those who still had them as adults and it was useful in battle for the Bladewarriors.

In a coordinated, smooth motion, both twins were suddenly facing him, blades fully extended and raised. After a moment of unspoken communication between the twins, Sunstreaker moved forward, circling his former cadre-mate as Sideswipe moved back to observe.

**"When I defeat you, I will decide the terms of our next engagement - whether I allow you to sheath my spike in your valve or swallow it. You can battle my brother to defend the hole I don't choose."** Sunstreaker rumbled.

Killblade chuckled and slid into an easy crouch, his brilliant red blades crossed in a salute to his brother even as an arrogant grin crossed his finely crafted features. **"You only stood half a chance of taking me back when we on-lined, Sunshine. No cadre you've been in has nearly the record of the Zerstörerz."**

Sunstreaker didn't take the bait. He was in full battle mode, optics locked on his opponent as he saluted back with his own lustful sneer. **"The record that matters is yours alone. I still have more kills than you. I checked the computer. And don't call me Sunshine."**

He raised his blades and with lightning speed went on the attack. Red met gold, sending sparks flying as they slid across each other.

It had been so long for Killblade, he soaked up even glorious moment without actual care for victory. He knew warriors deadlier than he was, faster, stronger or smarter ... but not since he was sent to the Zerstörerz had he been able to work against one who was his match in weapons, speed, strength, processor and programming. It felt nearly as good as the long-dormant brother-bond he felt string in his spark.

Only Cybertronian optics could follow the attacks and parries of the skilled warriors as their blades swung at a breathtaking pace even as their wheeled peddes moved them across the sparring grounds at dizzying speeds. A crowd of base Autobots was soon gathering to watch the impromptu display of violence at it's most elegantly primal level. Several humans were safely held or put on shoulders to keep them from possible harm; no one trusted that the combatants would notice them. Even said combatants would agree with the move if anyone had asked them.

Three large, heavy shadows fell over the fight with the rumble of powerful turbines, but none of the brothers took note. They all recognized who was there, and even what the three Seekers were doing as they sped skyward again, pushing and twisting to knock each other out of pattern.

**"I hear you moved in with it,"** Killblade spat through his grin and parried a series of stabs they'd both used to take down opponents before. **"A Bladewarrior and a Seeker? How far some have fallen."**

**"We proved ourselves to be sires of her young. You are not fit to polish her pedes with your glossa, nor would she allow it,"** Sunstreaker hissed, his anger getting the better of him as Killblade intended. The golden warrior darted in for an aggressive blow only to find himself holding back his opponent's blade with both of his own as Killblade scored the first hit with his other. Sunstreaker twisted and broke away, energon flowing from his wound, seemingly unnoticed by him.

Miles was watching from where he was held by an excited Jazz near the front of the appreciative crowd, plugged in so he could get translation of both the action and the taunting that was the hallmark of a good battle among their kind. The felinoid Shekat who had been with them had been distracted upon meeting the Protectobots (aside from First Aid who was busy in medbay), and discovered that they had _no socket_. She had pounced, leaving them time to see what the commotion at the sparring grounds was all about.

~I wish Ma-le were here to watch this,~ the blond commented ~She'd love to see her warrior-gods in action.~

~I sent Smokey to get her,~ Jazz was nearly dancing from pede to pede as he watched, his excitement a palatable thing to all around. ~She'll get to watch most of it. It's been _ages_ since they've been together. The after-battle is going to be _so_ hot it'll melt your circuits.~

**"As if it's proving anything to knock a Seeker up,"** Killblade sneered, pleased that his brother hadn't changed all that much as they broke apart and circled fast and low with blades out front, the mark of their design. **"They'll 'face anything that moves and half of what doesn't."**

~Ouch, but not that inaccurate,~ Jazz commented silently. ~Half the time they don't even contest it.~

~All this talk about knocking up reminds me that I have some ideas about _our_ secret knocking up mission. Ever heard of poll dancing?~

Miles wasn't sure if he felt the shudder of _ArousalWantYES_ more physically or mentally, but the net result was the same.

~Do I even want to know?~ Prowl's calm amusement came over the bond with Jazz.

~Yes, but you don't get to for a while yet,~ Jazz teased him.

~Very well,~ Prowl responded calmly, apparently accepting it even if Jazz didn't believe it for a moment.

ON the other side of the field, heading toward the grounds, Ma-le's eyes were wide as she spotted the small crowd in the distance and the swiftly circling mechs they watched. She had somehow been convinced by a mech she had never met that she would not harm her husbands' honor by coming with him.

"Who is Arun-Shwe fighting? He looks like another twin; were there several pairs created at the same time? What are they fighting for? Did the blue one insult his honor?" she asked in an excited flurry of excitement.

"The blue one is Killblade, **Killblade**" Smokescreen added with the nearly song-resonance of their native language. "He just arrived with the Zerstörerz **Zerstörerz** cadre, who he's been fighting with for a long time. He, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were created at the same time, along with two others, though Sunny and Sides were the only twins of the Bladewarrior program. They're fighting as a way to say 'hello' and 'welcome' to each other after their long separation."

::Jazz, catch me up,:: he commed and quickly received a download of events so far.

"My Golden Sun is injured," she noted without worry because he was, after all, a god. "I predict a lot of polishing in my near future," she giggled, already aroused by the grace of her husband as he continued to circle, engaging in brief violent clashes, testing and probing his adversary even as they spat out what could only be insults at each other in their god-language.

"I can let you see the full glory of the battle and what everyone is saying if you wish," he offered her a connector cable from his wrist.

Ma-le looked at Smokescreen's cable with almost fearful eyes.

"Forgive me, Kuhn Smokescreen, but I do not wish to be unfaithful to my husbands. I am certain at least Arun Shwe would not approve of me connecting to another."

The blue, white and red mech cycled his optics. That was a new way to refuse to him. ::Hey Sides, care to tell your socket it's okay to let me plug in to translate for her?::

::Hu? Oh sure.:: Sideswipe never took his optics off the battle, but a sensor set swept over to find Smokescreen holding Ma-le so she could watch the fight. ~Ma-le,~ he reached out, hoping the bond was strong enough to pull it off.

~Mvkang?~ she responded, uncertain of what she heard, her eyes widening even further.

~Yes,~ he sounded decidedly pleased now. ~It's all right for others to connect to your socket as long as it is not intended for pleasure and they ask politely first.~

As was her nature, she fully accepted the new way of communicating and the permission he gave without question.

~Thank you. Are you going to battle as well, my husband? Arun Shwe looks magnificent, even though he is injured. I predict much polishing in my near future.~

~Oh yes, I am going to kick his aft soon. I definitely see much polishing,~ he caressed her mind as affectionately as he could. A tiny part of him resented that he and the others had been brought on line with limited emotional programming, but it just wasn't in his nature to dwell on what couldn't be changed. ~He's our brother, Killblade. We're just welcoming him back.~

~Then I look forward to polishing you both until you gleam to celebrate your victory,~ she replied, boldly imagining herself doing so without her clothing. She basked in the sense of approval and affection she received from her silver god that further warmed her secret places.

"Mvkang says I may connect with your cable, so long as you ask politely, which you have done, and we do not share pleasure, Kuhn Smokescreen," she said in a trembling voice.

"Not a problem. You have my word," Smokescreen promised and quickly set up a firewall to keep her arousal at watching her mechs out of his systems.

Ma-le took the cable and connected without her eyes ever leaving the riveting poetry in motion of speed, lightning fast attacks and parries that she could hardly follow, but were spectacular to her nonetheless. Her golden god was so beautiful he took her breath away, and without even realizing what she was doing, one of her hands crept up to cup her own breast, her thumb teasing her own nipple, as her sex began clenching rhythmically in need.

She felt the unfamiliar mech in her mind, the carefully neutral translations of everything that had passed between the brothers since Jazz had arrived. Then he began to show her the battle as he saw it, catching so much more detail of the beautifully deadly dance between the brother. He kept his comments to her to a minimum, but he was happily engaging in setting bets and far more boisterous chatter with other mechs.

Gasps and yells erupted from humans and mechs alike as Sunstreaker made a sudden feint followed by a surprise attack as he launched himself over Killblade in an acrobatic flip, evading the upward motion of his opponent's blades to deeply slice the blue mech's armor along his shoulder. It could have marked the end of the battle for his non-twin brother if Sunstreaker had not overshot his landing and stumbled.

"Arun-Shwe!" Ma-Le shrieked in her mind as well as aloud, forgetting in the heat of the moment that his opponent was friend, not foe.

~He'll be fine,~ Sideswipe soothed her as best he could in his own excited state as he watched Killblade twist around, making the correct compensations for his injury to drive his primary blade into Sunstreaker's chassis just below and inside the shoulder joint in a strike that signified a crippling blow in real combat. As the energon blue mech forced his opponent to the ground with their momentum, his second blade drove into Sunstreaker's upper pede in a matching strike.

In a real fight, it would be over. Down an arm and the opposite pede and on his back, there was little that could save Sunstreaker except another mech.

**"Yield?"** Killblade offered as he continued with his momentum, pulling both his blades free as he rolled around to face the golden mech. He stood to his full height and extended his armor, puffing himself up to look bigger and preening as he licked his brother's energon from his blades.

**"Yield,"** Sunstreaker growled defiantly, his flashing optics looking anything but yielding.

Ma-le was shaking. Fear, panic, and arousal all competing hormonally for her small body's attention, finally settling into resignation as Sideswipe's assurance got through to her.

"He is going to be _so_ grouchy," she commented plaintively.

"Probably not by the time the greetings are over with," Smokescreen chuckled. "Bladewarriors are simple mechs. A couple overloads and he'll be back to his normal self."

Across the field, Miles cocked his head, trying to put words to the question forming about Killblade's posturing.

~He's showing off to any potential lovers,~ Jazz chuckled. ~It's the larger, heavily armored mech that usually carried the sparkling. Even though the programming to create a new spark has been stripped out, or in their case never put in, the posturing and courting that developed to show off that 'I'm a large, strong, heavily armored mech that is well-able to protect our young' hasn't really gone away. Next to no one remembers _why_ warriors puff out their armor, or why it makes them that much more attractive to smaller mechs, but all the social coding to make it desirable is still there and still reinforced by bonded selection.~

~I doesn't seem to work on you,~ Miles glanced at his lover, his mech.

~It does,~ Jazz chuckled and let Miles feel the difference in how attractive Killblade looked. ~Between being bonded and that I was a relatively large mech, a carrier myself, when I was born, it doesn't make as big an impression on me.~

Miles mulled that over for a bit. ~So how does a smaller mech attract attention if he wants the warrior?~

Jazz brushed against his mind affectionately. ~By showing they're a good provider and suited to caring for a sparkling. The warrior carries, but the other usually does most of the raising, at least in an old-style home. Again, few remember how or why the courting standards came about. A smaller mech makes himself attractive by being perfectly polished and detailed, attentive and articulate to show an education. Favored displays of a good income are ornamentation and gifts; shortly before the war, possessing a healthy, vibrant socket moved to the top of the list for the general population, though it was always a factor for some social groups. It showed that you had the income to support it and the ability to care for a 'nearly helpless' creature.~

~Oh, protect me, my mech. I'm a helpless little creature, and it will make Prowler get hot for you.~ Miles snickered.

Ma-le was watching Sunstreaker get himself proudly up, refusing help from either twin or brother, when a wave of dizziness hit her.

It was not an unusual occurrence for her. At first she had assumed it was because she was with child, until she was sadly informed of the impossibility of her hope. But the spells had continued, growing more frequent. She gripped on to the new mech tightly until it passed.

~Ma-le, how much do you eat and sleep?~ Smokescreen asked gently, his full focus on her. He'd picked up the moment he saw her that she was worn out, but that was hardly uncommon with new sockets. A new socket with three ... or was it nine ... sparks to feed was understandably exhausted. But he still felt compelled to ask.

~I have not yet made it to the commons for a meal, but my husbands have made sure that our own quarters have good food, much more than I ever would see in my village, though I have had very little time to cook. They are providing well for me, Kuhn Smokescreen. As for sleep, I sleep while they recharge. It would not be fitting for me to rest more than they do.~

She responded factually, without any sense of there being an issue or concern, assuming he was inquiring as an elder would to a new wife in her village, to assure that she was being adequately cared for.

Smokescreen did a bit of quick math and checked on 'human needs' in the database. ~That is good, though you should rest more. They do not need to recharge nearly as much as you need to sleep. They will not think ill of you for taking care of yourself.~

Ma-le sighed out loud. ~I truly wish I had time to rest, Kuhn Smokescreen, but I am very happy and honored to be with my husbands and to help their mate. I am strong, and the women of my village know how to work, even when they are tired.~

She felt him consider her and her state, her words and something else entirely. Still she didn't feel any judgment from him, only concern for her well-being.

~I know three mechs can be demanding, especially with Shimmerfire carrying so many. What other duties take so much time?~ he asked gently, actively projecting acceptance.

~Keeping the quarters clean. They are very large.~ she replied, sounding baffled, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Smokescreen cycled his optics in surprise. ~What of the cleaning drone? That is what they are built to do.~

Ma-le sat perfectly still for a moment, her mind putting a puzzle together. Finally she asked him, sounding nervous. ~Kuhn Smokescreen, what does a cleaning drone look like?~

He sent her a mind-image of a four-legged, four-armed robotic thing with a series of white optics encircling its flattened sphere of a body. ~They do almost all the cleaning on the base. They usually arrive in quarters when the mech residents are on duty so it doesn't disturb them. They have _very_ limited minds and little language, but they are good at what we created them for.~

The look of complete shock on Ma-Le's face was priceless.

~Well ... that explains a lot. It has arrived each day when my husbands have been at their punishment shift. It inquired if the quarters were currently occupied, and I responded 'yes' because I was there, busy cleaning. Then it asked me if I required assistance, and I told it 'no' because I had no idea what it was there to assist me with. Arun Shwe and Mvkang told me one of my duties was ensuring that Shimmerfire's quarters were cleaned daily.~

~I'm very sure they meant that you ensured that the drone did an acceptable job. They follow directions well, even very detailed ones, but they are nearly mindless otherwise and have no initiative." He smiled gently down at her. ~No wonder you are exhausted. Allow the drone to do what we created it for, all right?~

Realizing that she had misunderstood yet another aspect of her new home, Ma-le quickly wiped the tears that sprung in her eyes, attempting to hide her embarrassment and shame, her emotions raw because of her exhaustion.

"Please don't tell my husbands," she whispered. "I'm already ashamed enough about the other things I've been so foolish about."

She should have felt relief, but only felt humiliation that something which was so obvious to others was a complete mystery to her.

"It's all right, Ma-le," he said softly, wrapping her in a gentle mental blanket of comfort and support. "I won't tell them if you won't want me to. I won't tell Ratchet either, as long as you begin to rest more. Would you consider finding time now and then so I can show you your new home and things you might not understand yet?"

Not trusting herself to speak, she leaned against the mech and nodded silently, her lips tight. It would be good to have a mech explaining things to her, along with Sarah.

**"What did you do?"** Sunstreaker's rumble held an open threat as he rolled towards them.

**"I was only explaining some of what she has seen,"** Smokescreen met the optics of the larger, much deadlier mech with little fear. **"It is part of my function, you know. It was just too much at once."**

**"Some psych you are,"** the injured golden warrior growled and extended his hands for his socket.

Without question or hesitation, Smokescreen disconnected and extended his hands to Sunstreaker, returning the volatile mech's organic.

~What upset you?~ Sunstreaker asked almost gently as he connected his cable to her socket and turned on one wheel to go back to the edge of the sparing field to watch his brothers fight.

Though she did not wish to further embarrass herself or bring dishonor to her husbands with her foolishness, it was simply was not in Ma-le's nature to be dishonest or show any duplicity in her answers, especially if asked directly.

~I have been very tired because I have been cleaning the quarters by myself,~ she admitted, sounding ashamed. ~I did not understand what the cleaning drone's purpose was, and I felt embarrassed that I was so foolish and was expending so much energy on something I did not need to, wasting what could be given to you and Mvkang's sparks and the sparks of your mate and young.~

She cast her eyes down, ashamed.

Sunstreaker's surprise was visible both in his frame and in the momentary distraction he caused his twin.

~You ... no wonder. Sideswipe knew something was off, but we thought it was just the stress of adapting to such a different life,~ he sounded utterly contrite, pained that they hadn't done _their_ jobs in teaching her what she needed to know. She was a good socket, what they wanted and needed and they'd both failed to see to her simple needs. It twisted his spark. A golden cable snaked out of his wrist to gently caress her in a non-sensual way. ~We will pay more attention to you,~ he promised in the closest he came to an apology. ~Double shifts are no excuse not to realize what was happening.~

Ma-le's eyes widened at his reaction, so different that what she expected. She had felt so foolish, and now _he_ was concerned for her.

~You pay me wonderful attention, Arun Shwe,~ She responded shyly, leaning in to the soothing touch from his cable.

~Good,~ he continued to stroke her gently, affectionately. ~If you are still feeling weak or dizzy in two more days, tell one of us.~ Even though he kept his voice low, it came across as more of an order than anything he'd said to her before. ~You should not feel those things.~

~I will, my golden warrior,~ she sincerely promised. ~I was afraid you would think I was not strong enough to do my duties, and I did not wish to complain when you are giving me and my family so much.~

Even with the seriousness of his words, she nearly purred at the affection he was giving her, the tenderness and approval implicit in such care.

~I do not think anything has ever aroused me like watching you in battle,~ she murmured shyly and felt a rush of _surprise-pride-approve-desire_ flash across the cable from him before settling into a very pleased approval. ~Can you help me understand what Mvkang is doing?~ Her attention was being drawn to the battle.

Sunstreaker focused on the battle, showing her the much greater detail he could perceive, greater than even Smokescreen had shown her. Killblade and Sideswipe were darting around, coming in for lighting-fast clashes only to separate a heartbeat later. It was much faster paced than Sunstreaker's, with fewer insults and more energon drawn on both sides.

~My brother's doing his designation proud,~ Sunstreaker commented with a flicker of pride for his twin. ~They're both trying to get in under the other's guard without opening themselves up. Killblade is likely to loose, as much from going in damaged as anything Sideswipe has managed. They'll both require repairs at this point.~

Ma-le was swept away in the excitement and beauty of the battle, seen through her lover's warrior-optics. Just as before, she found herself trembling with desire, but this time far fiercer because of who she was connected with and the golden cable that continued to stroke her affectionately.

It took so little for her body to be convulsing with primal lust when she was with them - her sex tightening to grip a spike that was not yet within her, her hips unconsciously thrusting forward as her toes curled in anticipation. She didn't even know that she had closed her eyes and thrown back her head, now seeing the heated contest solely through her golden god's perceptions.

As the battle continued, her Mvkang scoring yet another strike against Killblade, one of Arun Shwe's cables slid under her dress to sink fully into her aching, needy body with a groan they both echoed.

Ma-le had no concern that they were in public. She was with her warrior-god. She belonged to him. If it pleased him to take her in public, she felt no shame. She was his to do with as he pleased, and oh how he pleased her. Giving him what he desired (and giving in to her own desires) contented even the parts of her which were most overwhelmed by the new place in which she lived and her longing for her family. And his desires always led to paradise for her.

Sunstreaker began timing his thrusts into her body with his brother's own attacks with his blade, making the battle sensuous in a whole new way. When Sideswipe scored a hit he would sink into her hard and fast. When his twin feinted, he teased her with shallow thrusts. When he circled, the cable would circle her folds and caress her jewel on top. Somehow, she knew that she would not reach her peak until Sideswipe sunk his blade into his opponent in victory.

~Your energy is so bright,~ Arun Shwe moaned against her mind as much as her body. His mental touch left no doubts that her pleasure felt so very good to him, made him feel stronger, more alive.

Killblade scored a deep slash along Sideswipe's chassis, but only Sunstreaker recognized it for what it was. His twin took the damage to set himself up for a kill-strike that couldn't be avoided.

A silver blade slashed along the back of Killblade's neck, just deep enough to make the point; you are dead. With a shudder as the charge of Ma-le's orgasm swept through him, Sunstreaker showed her the glory of the move in his optics and the thrill when Killblade sheathed his weapons and yielded. It no longer mattered to Sunstreaker that he'd lost his match. He'd enabled his brother to take their opponent down, and that was good enough.

Ma-le's chest was heaving, hardly able to catch her breath from the climax of battle and sharing, which had become one event for her.

~To see my warrior-gods in action makes me long for both of you all the more. So magnificent and beautiful.~ she gushed, sincere about every word.

~With the new arrivals, you will be able to watch often,~ Sunstreaker purred as he preened from her words. ~It's good to have warriors of our own class around again.~

**"Killblade!"** A mech on the periphery of the crowd bellowed. **"Get your aft to medbay,"** he roared as he shouldered his way towards the field. **"You can play when you're cleared ... and repaired,"** he scowled at the battered mech, then looked at his brothers. **"At least you made a good showing."**

Killblade chuckled and settled his frame as he stood. **"Sure thing, Flak."**

* * *

When 30 minutes passed after sending out Flak and Rollbar to retrieve the errant mechs who needed intake, Mikaela began to tap her foot. A contrite looking Jolt noticed and calmly said.

"It may take them some time, Mikaela. Our Cadre has been shipbound for ... longer that you have been alive to say the least. You know how difficult to manage the Terror Twins are? Multiple that by an entire shipload of mechs, and you'll have a picture of what we are dealing with. I can't imagine anyone but Chromia handling them."

"They are going to find themselves bound in another way if they don't get here soon," she said in a dark tone. "I don't have a good feeling about this. Something is going on, and it is going to mean trouble."

"That is a given," Jolt told her mildly. "Seriously, the only unit that does more damage than we do got named the Wreckers. They're headed in too, should be here within half a metacycle. Then the real chaos will start. Last time the Zerstörerz and Wreckers were on the same planet we kinda leveled the place in a game of tag."

"Fuck," she muttered. "I feel as grouchy as Ratchet all the sudden."

"They're not bad mechs," he reached out to stroke her back. "Just a little high strung when bored." He paused. "Killblade's on his way, with his brothers. Flak's making sure they arrive."

Mikaela gave him a weak smile. "I know. Sides and Sunny aren't bad either. They are what they were made to be, and have sparks that revel in it. No one should be surprised that they are trouble when bored."

She paused for a moment.

"Did you say Killblade is bringing his brothers? That in itself could be trouble."

"They were just greeting each other," he assured her. "Minor repairs, that's all. Killblade and Sideswipe are cut up, Sunstreaker has a hole punched in his left shoulder and right upper pede. Sparring stuff."

Mikaela gave Jolt _the look_. It was one that both Ratchet and First Aid knew all too well, but he was not quite familiar with. A commotion outside announced the arrival of the first group.

**"You can face each other later, slaggers. Now get in there."** Flak roared at the Bladewarrior brothers and all but shoved the lighter mechs inside.

**"Watch it, slagger,"** Sunstreaker snarled back. **"I'm carrying a socket."**

**"This _really_ couldn't wait another joor?"** Killblade focused on Jolt.

"Ask her, she's in charge," Jolt pointed at the dark-haired woman standing on the berth, glaring at them.

"Hi, Mik," Sideswipe greeted her cheerfully. "We'd like him back soon, k?"

Mikaela looked over the three of wheeled warriors with a glare that would send smarter mechs running. Sideswipe had energon oozing from multiple wounds, Killblade looked as though he shouldn't be functioning, and Sunstreaker had a gaping hole in his shoulder which he was carefully keeping Ma-le away from. Ma-le, for her part, had the dazed look of a woman who had just had mind blowing sex and was not yet recovered. Her left breast was hanging out from her dress, and if Mikaela wasn't mistaken, Sunstreaker still had a cable in her.

"What. The. Fuck! Minor injuries Jolt? You call these minor injuries? Do you three realize that we have half of your cadre to do intake on and that our only fully qualified Medic is busy putting the other half back together from injuries that should have made their sparks expire? And you decide that _now_ would be a good time frag each other up?"

The three brothers exchanged looks.

**"Is she usually like this?"** Killblade asked.

**"It's more Ratchet's thing, but she's always had a temper,"** Sideswipe shrugged. **"You get used to them. First Aid is the creepy quiet one. Never can tell what he's thinking."**

Jolt studied them for a moment before looking at Mikaela with a decidedly puzzled expression. "Yes, minor sparring damage, like I said."

"We were just saying hello," Killblade pointed out. "Nothing that self-repair can't handle in a few orn. We're still battlefield ready."

"Yeah, wait till that Seeker comes down. They're going to be a real mess," Sideswipe tried to distract her. "They can't form a trine and they want to really bad."

"Right now I'm speaking to you. I'll deal with _them_ when they come. And quit fucking speaking in Cybertronian while you are at it. I don't understand enough of it yet and it is fucking rude, not to mention against regulations, to talk in front of organics in a language they don't understand unless it is an emergency."

"Is she serious?" Killblade looked at his brothers, then his SIC.

The Twins shrugged, but Flak took a moment to look it up.

"Trust Prowl to have a reg for _everything_," the Zerstörerz' SIC flickered his optics in annoyance. "Here, yes."

"At least in situations where organics are acting in an official capacity," Mikaela turned toward him and qualified, "like now. We are part of the chain of command here."

She took a few calming breaths, realizing that she was going to end up taking Ratchet's attention from whatever he was working on with First Aid if she did not get her temper under control.

"All right. Sparring wounds. I would prefer your self-repair systems not have to be occupied by those. Here at NEST we pride ourselves on your systems not having to overextend themselves the way you would on a long mission. It will mean you are even more battlefield ready."

She turned toward her colleague.

"Jolt, I'd like you to seal off those energon leaks on Killblade and clean him up so I can do his intake without dissolving into a little organic puddle. It would frag Ratchet off. Your ideas of minor repairs and mine are quite different, and I want to make sure everything gets on the report that is needed, so I will be handling the intakes, you will be repairing these slaggers."

As Jolt moved to comply, motioning Killblade to sit on a berth, she noticed that way in which the blue Bladewarrior stood straighter and puffed out his armor, as well as the subtle change in energy from Jolt and a slight spike in his temperature. She filed it away for future reference before turning toward Sunstreaker who was continuing to absentmindedly pleasure a very out of it Ma-le.

"And Sunshine, I'm all for organic pleasure, believe me, but could you please remove you cable from Ma-le's cooch? It is distracting me and it pisses me off when I get distracted. She looks exhausted, anyhow. Ma-le, sweetie? You hungry? Need to take a nap in my quarters?"

"If I have to speak English, _you_ better use my designation," the golden warrior growled at her, though he did comply. ~Are you tired Ma-le?~ he asked his socket, sounding concerned.

~It would by my honor to give you my myi until I passed out, my husband, but to be honest, I am very tired, and a little hungry.~

He nodded and looked at Mikaela. "Yes to both. Which way to your quarters?"

"Follow me," Mikaela replied, motioning toward Sunstreaker as she walked to the far end of medbay and signaling the door to their quarters to open. "I'll get Ma-le set up with something to eat. The first couple of weeks are totally exhausting, even if amazingly fun. It's no wonder you are worn out, Ma-le."

Both of the twins followed her with a suddenly concerned expression toward their socket and continued a conversation that had begun when Mikaela mentioned that Ma-le looked tired. ~You are slagging kidding me,~ Sideswipe cycled his optics. ~Cleaning the place all by herself? Frag it, no wonder she is tired. We have got to remember that the girl doesn't come from socket-culture, brother. We can't assume she knows anything.~

Jolt, with far more tenderness than his usually battlefield style, examined Killblade for the worst of the leaks, first patching the large wound on his kneck with skilled servos and the far better stock of supplies than what they had on the Long Shot.

**"Hear you took ole Sunny. Wish I could have been there,"** he commented.

**"I'll share the vid if you want, over a cube of high-grade in my quarters?"** Killblade grinned up at the significantly smaller mech, once more appreciating his untrained skill as a medic that went with a fierce temper and skill on the battlefield. **"He's as susceptible to taunting as ever."**

He gave a knowing grin. **"Love to, once we get _assigned_ quarters. Looking forward to having some privacy again. It's been a long time."**

Jolt knew he was taking unnecessary time patching the leaks on the blue warrior's various nicked lines, enjoying simply having _time_, to do so.

**"Far too long,"** Killblade rumbled, his core temperature rising a degree at the amount of unnecessary touching. **"Not that it ever stopped us before."**

Jolt chuckled, moving on to the next patch. **"Certainly hasn't. But there is something to be said about slow and drawn out rather than fast an furious because someone else is waiting their chance to recharge."**

**"True,"** he murmured, his processors turning to that possibility ... how long _had_ it been since it wasn't about a quick release and reassurance that a cadre-mate was still among functioning?

Jolt's hands traced an old battle scar that he had roughly welded in the field, but which he could probably do a much finer job on now. **"When we get a chance, I want to redo this weld. Have the time and supplies now."**

Killblade's vents hitched silently under the light touch, the words, the _care_ on offer. His armor shifted without conscious command, thinning over his spark and flaring out briefly before settling again.

**"I think you'll be busy training. Ratchet's the best. He'll accept nothing less from you."**

Without thinking, Killblade reached up to caress a deep scar on Jolt's forearm. The one he'd welded and filled in under the electric blue mech's direction. The moment when he'd gone from seeing the small mech as a useful cadre member to someone he _admired_ the strength of. Someone he wanted to claim as his own. But the Long Shot was no place for courting. Their mission no place for caring that much or contemplating anything beyond the next orn.

Jolt's internals heated at the soft touch from the warrior. There had always been something different about their interactions, whether they were facing or sparring. A heat, but also a surprising tenderness that wasn't there with his other partners.

**"If the human is anything to judge by, my guess is that he will be making me perfect my skills on our whole cadre. No more quick patches and simple fixes for us. But this scar,"** he touched Killblade's hand, **"is one I'd rather keep."**

Killblade's optics flashed in surprise and his vocalizer shorted with a burst of static before he regained control of it and his treacherous processors. No. He couldn't hope for that much. He couldn't. It would break him if he did and had read it wrong. That would get him off lined in the next battle, always around the corner. Even if Jolt wanted him the same way he wanted Jolt, he had to do this right. He had no heritage, no traditions or culture beyond his training and what Chromia had instilled in him as a Zerstörerz. He didn't even have a home city to claim the way Prowl did. Jolt had all those things. Courting and such mattered to real mechs, those that had been sparked to live, and not to just do a job.

Jolt proceeded to use a cloth and solvent to clean off the energon still drying on Killblade's frame in smooth strokes. He wasn't sure how to read the Bladewarrior's reaction, and wondered if he had been too forward.

**"All done,"** he murmured just as Mikaela walked with a knowing grin on her face, followed by the twins.

"Good, you're clean enough," Mikaela nodded and climbed up to give him another looking over before logging into the medbay systems and brushing her hair to the side. "Please plug in, Killblade."

The energon blue mech let go of his electric blue cadre-mate with a lingering touch along a long, ugly, but ultimately only cosmetic damage on the medic-in-training's forearm. He extended a cable to her from his wrist.

Mikaela took the offered cable and connected it to her socket, only to be hit by a blast of raging desire that made her earlier connection with Shekat feel like having a tea party with Annabelle.

She couldn't help the load moan that escaped her.

~Jesus, Killblade, shield me. I'm trying to initiate as scan here, not share with you!~

~Sorry,~ he apologized on reflex because he'd angered an organic connected to him, even if he didn't really grasp how or why. Still he did as he was ordered and she felt nothing but the calm stillness from him as he locked everything but his logic away from her.

~It's ok.~ she commented as she initiated the scan and began her physical examination of his frame. ~I just can't concentrate enough to connect with the medbay systems when I'm being turned on, and I, unfortunately, don't have the ability to shield from you. So, what has your vents going? The twins? Jolt? Or all of the above.~

~Both,~ he chuckled. ~'Facing usually does come after sparring for our type, and Jolt ... he's been cadre for a long time.~

Even though he was shielding her, she had no doubt there were two different kinds of fondness there. Both sexual, both agressive and strong, but towards Jolt it was ... softer, more personal, and a bit more possessive.

~Well, you look all cute when you puff out your armor for him. Or I should probably say strong and capable,~ she teased as she carefully examined his joints and couplings, making note of what needed retooling or replacement to test herself against the scanner.

She felt his surprise, then a soft sensation she didn't expect from Sunstreaker and Sideswipe's brother, a mech created as they had been for the same purpose of up-close-and-personal mass-destruction.

~Thank you,~ Killblade murmured, keeping his reactions, both pain and pleasure, tightly in check as she continued her examination.

He was in worse shape than Jolt, even discounting the fresh damage. The left hip assembly was trashed badly enough she was amazed he could use it, much less fight the way he was clearly designed to. There was corrosion in many places where he'd never gotten proper medical attention to gashes.

A sharp ventilation and a tiny warning feeling was all she got when her hands worked into his left pede's wheel well. His fingers curled against the medberth, digging into it in his effort to control his reaction to her small, warm fingers poking into very sensitive places.

A moment later she heard-felt his mantra to keep his control when he really didn't want to. His spark was well fed, but he'd never needed to keep his carnal desires much in check.

At that moment, Ratchet walked in, no longer willing to take Mikaela's deflections through the bond at her latest blast of anger, and then heat.

**"What the frag is going on here?"** he stormed, looking over the gathered mech's injuries and what Jolt was up to in cleaning and quick-repair work on Sideswipe. **"And _what the frag happened_ to you lot?"** he snarled at the three brothers.

"We were just greeting each other," Killblade responded with little trepidation, and in English as he was supposed to no less.

Of course, Mikaela reasoned, once you consider _who_ he'd spent the last several million years in very close quarters with, Ratchet might not be that terrifying. He'd learn, at least as much as Ironhide had.

"One moment, babe, I'm almost done," Mikaela said calmly to her fuming mech, taking him completely by surprise.

~He yells at you because he cares,~ Mikaela explained with no small amount of fond humor for the CMO. ~Even though we are better equipped than you were on the Long Shot, we still have less than a basic field unit should have, and a growing number of mechs to care for. It frags him off when you slag yourself up needlessly because he wonders if he will have the supplies to repair you when your spark is actually in danger.~

She smiled to herself when the scan came back with the same results of her own analysis, along with several underlying issues with his cooling and energon systems that were slowly being corrected by self-repair systems, but which would likely need eventual surgery to get him at full battle strength. She quickly shared with the warrior the results of her analysis and the scan.

~Honestly, that you were able to take down Sunny today is amazing considering how much better shape he is in. I can't wait to watch you fight them when we get you fully repaired.~

She disconnected from a grinning Killblade and looked calmly at Ratchet.

"Honestly, babe, would you really expect that they'd do anything else when they hadn't seen one another in so long? We've got it covered here. Jolt is making repairs, I just finished Killblade's intake, and Flak and Rollbar are rounding up the rest of the stragglers. Add a complete retooling of his left hip assembly to your repair schedule, as well as replacement of about a quarter of his coolant lines and his secondary energon pump. It will all be in my report."

She watched with a grin as her chartreuse lover cycled his optics once before his faceplates settled into an expression of immense pride as he looked at her. He couldn't quite remove that expression before turning back toward the Twins.

"When will you learn simulate injury without causing actual damage while sparring? We don't have endless supplies here, and if we do not have what we need following an actual battle, I'm holding you personally responsible. You cost me more time and supplies than any mechs on base."

"You know full well you don't _need_ to fix the damage we do sparring," Sunstreaker growled at him. "There's plenty of energon and down time here to cover it and then some."

"You might want to save your wrath for when Chromia decides she needs to instill discipline in Dogfight again," Killblade chuckled. "She actually _does_ slag him."

Ratchet glared at Killblade, though it was obvious that he was struggling to maintain his irritated appearance due to his immense pride in his socket.

"A commander doing what is necessary to maintain discipline among warriors is a completely different scenario then needless injury during sparring."

He spared Mikaela another pleased look before turning toward his personal terrors, in full lecture mode.

"You are right, Sunstreaker, I don't _need_ to repair you, and if it were damage you took in actual battle, I wouldn't. That is the whole issue. Your self repair systems become taxed fixing damage that did not need to happen, and when you actually need them in the middle of battle, they are not running on full efficiency because of being occupied with so many previous injuries. You could prove yourselves every bit the warriors you are using holoform blades that marked damage, that even accurately disabled and caused pain to what they 'injured' without leaving an actual injury. You have the advanced protocols set up for just such a thing, but you _never_ use them. Instead, you tax your fragging systems and I get to deal with the results."

"They don't have the right weight or feel," Killblade pointed out. "It throws our balance off."

Ratchet vented, but then gave a slight smile. "Jolt, how would you respond to that?"

The small blue mech paused in his work to look up at Ratchet uneasily. "Balance is everything to a Bladewarrior. Far more finely tuned than anything save a Seeker," he answered softly. "They'd be injured worse if they learned to fight with weapons that don't reproduce battlefield conditions flawlessly."

Ratchet raised an optic ridge, and nodded, accepting the answer from someone who came to the problem both as a warrior and a medic.

"And Mik, how would you respond?" He asked, suddenly in full in training mode.

"I know how _you_ would respond, Ratch. You'd tell them to see their weapons specialist about adjusting the program until it felt right."

"But what would _you_ say?"

"I would say that Ironhide is likely to side with them in the argument, considering the kinds of injuries we regularly have to repair on him. That _nothing_ can perfectly simulate the feel of a real injury in real combat with real weapons, even if the difference is only a psychological or emotional one," she said thoughtfully, trying to truly look at the issue from the point of view of the mech she had just evaluated.

"I'd also say that giving the same mechs the same advice vorn after vorn and expecting a different result is a sign of a processor glitch," she added with a cheeky smile.

Before Ratchet could continue, she added, "but I'd also say to said mechs, don't knock it 'til you try it. If you removed your blades..."

**"NO!"** Three mechs reacted at once, their tones ranging from horrified to furious.

Mikaela kept going like they hadn't said anything. "And we got the holoblade balance just right, it could be a viable alternative for at least 50% of the sparring you engage in, saving yourself and us a lot of resources. We could even do a temporary memory block so you weren't even aware that the blades you were using were simulations, and Prowl could analyze whether there was any actual real difference to responses."

She folded her arms in front of her, far too pleased with herself despite the boarderline panic she could see in all three brothers. The lot of them looked positively ready to bolt ... though Sunstreaker was likely to try and smash her flat first.

"And that is why they don't use holoblades," Jolt pointed out with a sigh. "I don't suppose you've had the joy of trying to get Ironhide's cannons away from him while he's battle-primed?"

Mikaela simply laughed. "You really are simple creatures, aren't you? It's like trying to convince a man to get a vas. Best thing for everyone involved in the long run, but don't you dare take his weapon offline."

"A vas?" Jolt asked.

"Vasectomy," she spelled it out for him.

He paused to look the term up. "Except that will never get him or his comrades off-lined," Jolt told her gently. "Human men do not live or die on whether or not their ejaculate has sperm in it. Warriors have _very_ good reason to be protective of keeping their weapons if they want to see the next orn."

Mikaela just shook her head and laughed again. "Which brings me back to what I said to Ratchet. They are warriors, it's in their code, and it ain't gonnna change. Just like you, my lover, are not going to stop lecturing them about it. What do you say, Ratch, are they repaired enough? They need to finish greeting each other."

"Sunshine still needs those holes patched, but the other two can go," he grumbled at being called out _again_ by his socket.

"Catch up when you can," Sideswipe grinned at his twin before putting a possessive hand on Killblade's arm as the blue warrior got on his pedes. "I'm looking forward to watching Killblade take you once I'm done with him."

~You gonna punish me for that, professor? I've been a really bad girl today.~

Ratchet growled at her, making Jolt look up, startled, from where he was examining Sunstreaker's damage. True to form, Killblade had hit nothing critical and very little that wasn't cosmetic, despite the deep puncture.

~I think I'd rather make you scream for doing such a good job today, girl, despite being saucy with me in front of the new intern.~

~Mmmm, looking forward to it. He would've seen it sooner or later.~

~Sooner, I'm sure.~


	51. Frontliers 6:  A Wolf's Barricade

**Writers: **gatekat and femme4jack on LJ  
**Fandom: **Transformers Bayverse (SoG'verse of POV'verse)  
**Characters: **Will Lennox, Robert Epps, Wolfkat  
**Rating: **R for Violence  
**Codes: **Xeno (Transformer/human), Violence  
**Summary: **Free of Medbay, Wolfkat jumps on the opportunity to have Major Lennox and Sgt. Epps show her around the training grounds. She immediately wants to check out the holo-training room and put in a little work on taking down a mid-sized mech.  
**Notes:** Written in the Dathanna de Gray fanverse (community .livejournal .com/ tf_socket_fics)  
"text" organic language  
**"text"** translated Cybertronian.  
~text~ bond/cable talk  
::comm chatter:

* * *

****

Frontliners 6: A Wolf's Barricade

* * *

"So what would you like to see first?" Will Lennox offered as he walked out of medbay next to the much taller wolf-woman with blood red fox markings on her face and a tabby-design on her thick tail.

"I understand there is a holo-training facility here," her deep rumble was in her native language, something his socket found thankfully easy to translate for him. "That is a luxury we do not have on Long Shot."

"A great place to start. Spend a lot of time there myself," Will commented, heading in the direction of the sparring grounds which were next to the Cybertronian designed training facility. "So, if you don't mind me saying, you and your sister are physically quite different. I would not have thought the two of you were related by species, much less by blood. Is that the norm on your world?"

"Very normal," she nodded as she swung an armored duffel bag out of subspace. "Size, temperament and appearance as adults among our kind are all a function of when we are conceived. Whether we mature into a water or air breather, or both, is dependent on what environment we spend the first year of adolescence. Gender is a factor of environmental and tribal conditions at that time as well. Every Vael Vormun carries the genetic code for all variants and can mate with any other. It's theorized that under enough environmental pressure we can undergo a second puberty and change again. That's just weird-talk by the scientists to most of us though."

Will's eyes got wide during the explanation. He felt like an adolescent who had landed in a Star Trek episode. And to top it off, she could get things out of subspace. He felt a small pang of jealousy.

"Whoa. That is pretty amazing. Have your people been allied with the Autobots for a long time?"

"My people aren't," she said grimly as she slung the bag over one shoulder with practiced ease and just as easily began to take pieces of armor and armor-weapons out to put on without breaking stride. "They want nothing to do with the alien monsters, not that I can really blame them much. Cons landed on our world first. We've been with the Zerstörerz for three and a half vorn."

"Back up a minute," Epps suddenly spoke up. "You mean you sister, a full blood relative, could have been a _fish_?"

Wolfkat didn't pause in her movements as she muddled through the linguistic mess. "Yes, she could have matured into a water-breather. We had a brother by our mother who was avian in features."

"Ok, so your people aren't keen on the Autobots," Will went on, giving Epps a look. "How did you and your sister get involved?"

"I was a first responder to the Long Shot's crash site," she said simply. "When you meet him, I think you'll understand. To a warrior, Springer is hard not to want to ... trust is not the right word. He has a presence to him, a much more battle-tested Prime with an understanding for wings as well as feet. He was born one of _us_, not a noble, and it shows." Her voice dropped slightly and she paused in her armoring though her steps never faltered. "What brought us with them was a combination of politics at home and Dogfight and Blaze Master. They were a very special couple."

"Blaze Master is the one who is missing, but still functioning, right? Another Seeker?" Will asked, eying her armor. It vaguely reminded him of mech armor, though not the heavy armor of Ironhide or even Ratchet, but the lighter armor of Jazz and other intel mechs. Obviously meant for agility and speed, spikes and blade attachments at various points for lightning quick strikes and to make her relatively small form generally painful to grab. He felt another pang of jealousy, reminded that even by the standards of many other organics, as Hide would be all too happy to remind him, humans were relatively frail.

"An Aerial," she shook her head and went back to work assembling her armor while they walked. "Bloody first contact regs," she grumbled under her breath before answering him. "His alt is a ... chopper?" she hesitated again as she searched the databases for something that had at least a vague resemblance to what she knew. "A Blackhawk is what he would likely choose on Earth."

"So where did the armor come from?" Epps seemed to read his thoughts and ask the question he wouldn't yet.

"It began as my field armor, what I wore on missions back home," she grinned down at them, though they couldn't help the distinct lack of visible teeth in the expression that made it look odd, but far less threatening than it could be. "It's been modified a lot since. Mostly with weapons, improved materials and tech."

"How much firepower can it stand up to? Are you able to take on a mech in that stuff?" Will couldn't hide his excitement or the visions of Ironman that were suddenly dancing through his head.

"I wouldn't pit it against a frontliner if I had a choice, but it stands up to scout-classes like Jolt and Bumblebee fairly well. It does better against energy weapons than kinetic. Sideswipe would be more dangerous than Ironhide for example. Yes, I can take on the smaller mechs. On a good day with the right intel I can take down a scout. Most of the time I'm more dangerous distraction than actual killer, but then, I've been in a ship of dedicated frontliner's the entire time too. Here it might be different. You've got a lot of non-frontliners you put in the field from the reports I read."

"Now wait just a minute. I don't mean to be rude, but how is that even possible?" Epps challenged. "I don't see how _any_ organic of your size, no matter how strong, could take on a scout like Bee or Jolt. No matter how good your armor is, they just have so much mass on you. And in order to hold up to a Cybertronian energy weapon, that armor would need to be so heavy your mass just wouldn't be able to support it."

Wolfkat's jaw snapped shut a fraction of a second after a half-surprised, half-bewildered look crossed her canine features. ::Wolfkat to Prime or Prowl. Protocol issue. Please respond.::

::Prowl here.:: Came the steady voice on the comm. ::Report.::

::Lennox, Epps and I were discussing my combat capabilities. They seemed very surprised at my armor's protective capabilities. Is this world still under no-share protocols?::

All three had stopped walking and Will and Epps were looking at Wolfkat with a mixture of disbelief and concern at her sudden silence, already guessing that she was on the comm.

_Ask Arcee_, Will mouthed at Epps, knowing that he was not going to get a response out of Hide at the moment.

~Hey baby, if there was a form of armor that would protect a socket from a Cybertronian energy weapon, there isn't anything that would keep command from sharing that with us, right?~

~A socket, no,~ she answered quickly. ~Did the newcomers come with new toys?~

~They sure did. One of their organics has armor that can stand up against Cybertronian energy weapons.~

~Requisitioning some for you as we speak. If they don't give you some, they answer to me. All three of me.~

~Thanks baby.~

::Earth is still under a modified no-share policy as governed by the treaties we have made with the various allied governments,:: Prowl responded to Wolfkat. ::However, like on any other world, our sockets are not governed by no-share policies. Wheeljack is currently working on the armor project, and there is a 75.3958% probability he will have the resources necessary to begin fabrication within the next solar cycle, though it would be helpful for him to examine yours. You do not need to keep any information from either Chief Master Sergeant Epps or Major Lennox. They are the two highest ranking organics in our chain of command.::

::Understood. Thank you Prowl,:: she signed off and visibly relaxed as she began to walk again and looked down at the pair of humans. "On the 'take down' it may be a linguistic issue," she began cautiously, all too aware of the failings of the program, no matter how advanced. "I can disable a scout class with a strike that severs critical hydraulic or control lines that are lightly armored enough that the blades can reach them. Once disabled, there are several very vulnerable places on most frames to strike that will kill quickly. Main energon and power lines being the best targets, but if you know the frame well enough, it is possible to get the chest armor open and you can get to many more critical systems.

"For the energy protection, it is a factor of the environmental protection features that were upgraded over time. Bumblebee's stinger at normal power is the most it can take, and it won't always redirect all of it on a direct hit. All this makes me about as dangerous on the field as one of Blaster's mech-style agents. Impressive for an organic, but not that big a threat to most larger mechs."

"But still, the possibilities are exciting," Will countered, practically bouncing in excitement. "So far, we primarily provide cover fire. But armor like yours would enable us to use our size as an advantage. Can't wait to see the possibilities in action." The Ranger had a wicked grin as they approached the training facility at the far end of the sparring grounds.

"Our size and how we think are our only advantages on a personal level," she agreed with a tip of her nose down. "No matter how much they study us, we _think_ differently and they can't grasp it fully."

"Lateral thinking? Is that the major difference? Or is it something more?" Will asked, intrigued to get her take on something he had sensed but had not been able to explain. His impression from the bots was that they could read organics like a book, but that the translation they read from just weren't quite right when it came to how humans thought.

She paused to look up the phrase and nodded. "That and the interaction between thought, biochemistry and action. No matter how much experience they have, no matter how random they might seem, they are still founded on a logic base that isn't about evolution or primitive survival. They don't have the depth of antiquated but still very active protocols driving them that we do. All that stuff we call instinct, reflex, subconscious thought, they are not only fully aware of, but can manipulate and generally force to stay within a very literal form of logic to us. In my time with the Zerstörerz, I've come to understand mechs better than they understand organics, despite how much longer they've been at it."

"Wow, I'd really like pick Jazz's processors on all of that. He seems to believe that there are many 'instinctive' bits of core programming that are holdovers from the past that few are aware of at all."

"You two are losing me with all of this lateral thinking subconscious instinct crap. Come on Will, I want to see her fight," Epps commented with the smile that told Lennox that his very intelligent friend was following everything, but losing his patience fast.

The reached the door and used their sockets to ping their own recognition codes. The human sized door slid open.

"Damn, we should have built these taller," he said to Wolfkat with an apologetic look

"From what I've been told, you are one of the taller socket species," she said easily and ducked in. "It'll be changed when the next round of modifications are done. Neither Caurver nor I are within the expected range. Did you want to fight with me or watch from behind the shield?" she asked as logged into the system and pulled up the training programs.

Epps and Lennox looked at one another and seemed to come to some sort of silent consensus.

"We'll watch you this round, then join you the next," Will responded, already heading to the observation area protected by an invisible force shield that would make most human engineers wet their pants if they could study it.

Wolfkat tipped her muzzle in a nod and pulled up a forest setting and Barricade.

"We're either in for a serious demotion, or she's about to get her ass whooped," Epps observed as Wolfkat made a fast, graceful leap into the trees and turned Barricade loose to hunt her while she hunted him.

The humans watched her move with frank appreciation. She was so clearly of predator stock, and it showed in her grace and silence.

"Don't tell Sarah, but I think I'm in love," Will whispered to Epps with a grin.

"Don't tell Hide or she'll probably join your family," Epps winked back. "Can you think of something more Hide-like?"

"Not really, no. I think I'm glad she got here after he claimed me. Though Hide is partial to mated pairs with kids because of his guardian base code. He watched over Optimus and the Prime before him as sparklings. Can you believe it?"

Barricade continued his hunting, but had not yet sensed the graceful organic in the canopy above him.

"We always knew he was an old guy," Epps pointed out before both their focus went squarely to the action. She'd dropped down from the trees, driving the long wrist-blades into the weakly protected cables between his helm and back armor.

Barricade (or Holocade as he was affectionately called by Epps) roared in pain but did not pause a moment, grabbing the canine huntress and flinging her from him before she could do more damage with her blades.

"Ow," Epps commented calmly as she bounced off the wall near them. He, like Lennox, was on the edge of his seat. They'd be afraid for her as Barricade stormed over to her moaning form as she struggled to get to her feet if this wasn't the training room. In here, you could get the wind knocked out of you, but not much worse.

As the vicious mech threw his bladed tire she got enough coordination to bolt forward, darting between his legs and driving a wrist-blade into a main hydraulic line low on his pede as she passed.

Barricade again roared, more in anger than in pain, though it had to have hurt. The line wasn't severed, but enough stress on it would do so. He definitely had a handicap in the battle that he hadn't before.

"Shit, that was good. I want some of that armor with those weapons yesterday," Lennox whispered with excitement.

"No kidding," Epps shivered in anticipation of actually being _in_ battle again as an actual warrior. "I bet it was designed with her hunting instincts in mind."

Barricade threw his spiked disk again, only just missing her as heightened reflexes enabled her to dodge behind a tree so it was sliced in half instead of her.

"I wonder what she's like in bed," Epps murmured thoughtfully.

"What would your wives say if they hear you saying that? I'm going report you. I didn't think you cheated on your alien with other aliens," Will gave a devilish grin.

Lightning fast, Barricade threw himself at her, his trajectory looking as though he would land right on top of her and crush her beneath his bulk.

A blazing fast twist on one set of toes and she was headed right for him, only just managing to duck between his pedes as he came down and rolled to follow her. Only she was already sprinting for him, two leaps and she was in his face. Her main wrist-blade slammed into his top left optic and drove down through the lower one.

"Holy Mother!" Epps cried out, hardly able to be heard over Barricade cursing in Cybertronian as he physically grabbed her much quicker than either of them thought possible. He didn't fling her away from himself this time. Instead he held her away from himself, squeezing tight.

"Die meatsack," he growled.

They watched Wolfkat struggle, squirming in an effort to get at least one arm free. Tiny drops, then a trickle of system energon dripped from his hand as she began to really struggle for breath.

"I hope she knows she can turn this off before passing out," Will murmured. "Ratchet will be _pissed_ if she has to go to medbay."

"I doubt she would even if she knows," Epps shook his head, watching the scene with morbid fascination as she gradually lost the battle to remain conscious.

On that signal the simulation shut down and Barricade lowered her to the ground before the scene dissolved.

::Jolt,:: Lennox comm-ed, deciding to ask the intern medic who knew the canine alien best what they should do and avoid Ratchet's rant in the process. ::Wolfkat is unconscious in the holo training room. Will she need medical attention?::

The mech pinged the room's sensor suite. ::No need. Nothing is broken, bleeding or blocked off. She should start moving any nanoklik now. Make sure her eyes can focus before you approach her. She's not very passive when she's rebooting from battle mode.::

Halfway across the room, Wolfkat let out a low, barely-audible whine as she tried to make her body get up before she was coherent enough to do more than twitch. Epps and Lennox stayed well back, aware now of just how fast and dangerous the predator was.

"I think we've found our new hand to hand instructor, don't you?" Will commented to his friend.

"No shit, Sherlock, and I get to be her first pupil." Epps had a gleam in his eyes usually reserved for his wife, his triplets, or a really nice gun.

"CO privileges. I'm first," Will teased. "But promise me something. If you ever catch her training Sarah, let me know so I can flee. I don't think I'd survive long, and she'd use it against mechs on base that fragged her off."

"As if she needs to be any more dangerous," Epps chuckled as Wolfkat's bright blue eyes started to focus and she struggled shakily to her feet. "Hey there, you with us?"

She swung her head towards them, large triangular ears twitching to catch subtleties of sound beyond them. "Mostly," she decided. "Definitely need to work on him. He's _fast_."

"You were fast, yourself, and did far more damage than I ever imagined any organic other than Sam Witwicky was capable of," Lennox said with open admiration. "How would you like to be our hand-to-hand combat trainer? You could choose from the best of them to create a team if Prime agrees, and I don't see why he wouldn't."

A savage, completely predatory grin showed off her long jaw full of sharp teeth as blue eyes glittered eagerly. "I think I'd enjoy that. It's been far too long since I've had pups to train."

::Is that as freaky-scary to you as to me?:: Epps asked silently.

::Grandma, what big teeth you have,:: Will quipped back.

::But _much_ nicer curves than any grandma I know,:: Epps quipped back.

"I think you will have many fighting for the chance to train with you," the former Ranger said with a smile at her expression, thankful that she showed up as an ally and not an enemy. "There are more than a few of us who are tired of simply being in the support position," Will continued. "We've seen a lot of our people killed, and we want to be able to help take them down and not just provide cover fire and air strikes. And you'll bring out the competitive edge in all of our former Rangers, which is a very good thing."

"Such as you two?" her rumbling reply only widened her grin. "Care for a two-on-one match, sans my armor and weapons, you can have yours."

::We are so dead,:: Epps laughed over the private comm even as he grinned back and met her eyes.

"You're on," Will said with a grin. "Just...don't damage us too badly. Our mates and mechs won't take to it very well," he added, already on the way to a locker to put on his own body armor and helmet, which would, unfortunately, slow his movements but would offer his vital organs protection from her claws and teeth.

::Which weapons?:: he silently asked Epps.

::Guns would be unfair,:: he said thoughtfully as he got into his own armor, watching out of the corner of his eye and Wolfkat stripped down, stowing not just the weapons embedded in her armor, but the suit itself until she was in nothing more than thick chocolate colored fur. ::Knives, garrote ... and spear,:: he decided as he pulled the various items out and tested their balance. ::We need something to compensate for all that extra reach she's got.::

Will looked over the selection and grinned. His administrative duties did not allow him to play in this facility nearly often enough. He selected a 72" Great Sword with an 18" handle, nearly a spear itself, and a pair of long daggers, one in each boot sheath.

::I might as well have fun dying,:: he commented.

::Oh yeah, this'll be a blast until she rends us to puppy chow,:: Epps snickered as they turned and walked to the center of the room to square off against the newcomer with a dozen paces between each of them.

Will raised his sword in salute to Wolfkat.

::Don't say it.:: Epps warned, his own spear at the ready.

::What? We who are about to die salute you?::

::Yeah, that.::

"Shall we include some sort of landscape, preferable one that doesn't have some form of tree canopy overhead?" Will inquired, already trying to consider what, if any landscape would give them an advantage over the highly intelligent predator.

"Any you wish," she offered them another advantage.

::She's either a glutton for punishment or as bad as the Twins,:: Epps muttered silently. ::Thick jungle, seven feet tall? No canopy for her, but enough thickness to give us a size advantage.::

Will smiled, giving detailed instructions to the room's AI, taking care that it was thick enough to indeed give them some cover, while not so thick that he'd accidentally get his sword stuck in a trunk while swinging it. Even as the landscape formed around him, he was beginning to feel very foolish. It had been a long time since he had trained with a Great Sword, mostly as a form of strength training combined with the refining of his reflexes.

His attention was drawn to Wolfkat when she emitted a deep, amused rumble. Or at least it would be coming out of Ironhide.

"Nice choice. A distinct advantage for you," she said with what was definite approval as she barred her teeth and dropped her stance a bit, her ears twitching to pick up the sound of the humans moving.

::Why does that not make me feel any better about our odds?:: Epps muttered.

Without even needing to communicate a plan, Epps and Will parted ways, both moving with the silence of those who had training in special ops, attempting to flank her on either side.

::I'll draw her into combat, you attack once we have engaged,:: Will relayed to his SIC.

Epps made a positive signal back as they tracked and circled the larger predator, who was tracking and moving in on Will at the same time.

When Will judged he had given Epps enough time, he moved in on the canine, swinging hard and fast with the heavy blade, knowing she would dodge him, but hoping it gave Epps time to engage.

He wasn't expecting her to go nearly strait up and over him, though in retrospect he really should have. He saw just enough of her twist to know she'd land on her paws facing him.

::Duck!:: Epps shouted across the comm, his eyes wide as he rushed forward to protect his commander.

Fortunately for Will, his training served him well, and he found himself ducking and rolling away from her before her claws caught him. He did, however, lose his Great Sword in the process. It was too heavy for him to maneuver fast enough, anyhow. He had hoped its reach would give him an advantage, but not with the predator's speed and ability to jump right over him.

::Shit!:: he exclaimed.

He quickly pulled the two long daggers out of his boots, ducking into a low crouch. He wondered if she would arm herself with the sword. He somehow doubted it. She wouldn't need it to take his head clean off if that was her aim.

Epps was on his position just as fast, his spear giving him enough reach with enough maneuverability to keep her from making a lunge.

Will had few doubts she'd take a hit from his blades to take him down, but that spear could kill her before she got to kill them.

Suddenly she was down, out of sight in the foliage.

::We need a strategy, and we need it fast. I'm going to have to use the sword defensively, like you spear. Using it offensively won't work unless she is thoroughly distracted, and even then I doubt that I can be faster than her reflexes.::

::I'd call a back to back defensive. We can't take her offensively yet,:: Epps suggested, guarding Will as he retrieved the sword.

::Agreed. Can you call in an air strike while we're at it?:: Will's heart was pounding with adrenaline as he took his sword and crouched ready for action, back to back with his SIC and long-trusted friend.

::I wish,:: Epps chuckled over his own adrenaline rush as he strained with all his senses, natural and new, to spot the hunter. ::I'm not sure it would phase her any more than it did Scorpinok.::

Without much thought, they found themselves slowly circling back to back, looking for any sign of Wolfkat. Suddenly, the jungle landscape did not feel like such a good choice, especially considering how far she was capable of jumping. She could be on them before they even had spotted her.

::Why do I feel like I'm one of the expendable characters in Schwarzenegger movie?:: Will asked, just as he thought he caught site of movement out of the corner of his left eye. ::To your right!::

They moved in perfect unison to point the spear at the movement, only to find nothing there as they approached. Out of the corner of his eye Epps caught a bit of movement on the ground and jabbed at it.

A snarl erupted as Wolfkat's powerful frame exploded from the foliage. One large clawed hand grabbed at Will while the other grabbed at Epps. Her jaws were what she was aiming with though, and they landed right where she wanted them a foot below the spearhead, snapping the shaft with a single bite.

Will managed to hold his sword in the defensive position, now side by side with Epps. It grazed her shoulder, drawing blood, even as she lunged. The predator did not even seem to notice as she sprang back into the thick jungle.

::Big, fast, deadly and _smart_:: Epps grumbled.

::Just like some mechs,:: Will shot back with mind-images of various battles they'd been in with small, fast mechs. ::Be ready. I'm sure I clipped her arm.::

::Let's keep moving. No reason to be a sitting target,:: Epps replied. :: We could always move to a corner of the room and hold up the sword spear fashion. Nowhere for us to run, but we can't outrun her anyhow, and at least she could not come at us from behind.::

::Sounds good,:: Will did a quick calculation on what wall was closest and started to move. ::This way. Thirty two meters.::

Will had an instinctive feeling that the attack would come from in front of them, not in back, so he took point while Epps followed, still back to back with him, searching for any sign of movement or sound. They moved nearly silently, though they both knew their scent and even the sound of their respiration would likely give them away. For all they know, she could hear their hearts beating or could see in infrared.

::So...how did our ancestors get the better on all of those dangerous predators and end up on the top of the food chain, anyhow?:: Epps commented.

::_They_ aren't sentient for starters,:: Will reminded him. ::If we'd been up against her kind, we'd still be on the menu. Hell, if she didn't comply with the mechs, we might still be on the menu for the lot of them.::

Before Epps could reply, a fist-sized rock was flying towards Will's hand from their right.

Will's instincts saved him again, though the rock glanced off his shoulder blade as he ducked, likely chipping a bone. It hurt like hell, but he could still hold the sword. He took a defensive posture looking toward the jungle where the rock had come from. He heard, more than saw, the next projectile that came their way, and twisted out of the way.

Wolfkat was on Epps in the blink of an eye, tackling him across the torso and dragging him into the undergrowth with her momentum.

::Shit!:: Epps yelped over the comm, though there wasn't any indication of pain yet.

Will let instinct take over completely, dropping the sword and grabbing a dagger as he took a running leap toward Wolfkat, managing to slice her shin before he remembered that this was a sparring match, not a fight for his life in the jungle.

It was quite enough to draw her attention to him as she twisted around sharply, one hind paw firmly on the ground, the other helping her maneuver as she swung her longer, heavier mass towards him with barred fangs and unsheathed claws.

Epps just as quickly jumped on her back, bringing his wire garrote around her neck and pulling hard, confident that with the thickness of her fur, he would not do much actual damage. He felt more than heard her growl of anger and cursed out loud when she suddenly flipped to her back, taking him down under her. It knocked the wind out of him and gave her enough slack to cut the wire on her throat with her claws before she continued the roll and got to her feet.

She was terrifying. There was no way around it. If their ancestors had faced her, they never would have evolved. Hers would _be_ the dominant species. Even in the heat of battle, Epps found himself wondering in the back of his mind how her species could have so many different forms, and whether it had always been so, or whether somehow very divergent species somehow combined on their planet.

Before Epps could finish the thought, Will was charging at her with a primal scream with both of his knives out, looking like Mel Gibson in Braveheart, sans the kilt and the long hair. Epps didn't even need to think about joining his CO in the suicide assault. He charged her as well, with his single knife in his right hand.

Crystal blue eyes narrowed. She lashed out with a hard kick to Epps chest before turning on Will with a snarled roar and launched at him. Her hands went for his wrists, curling claws into unprotected flesh as her jaws came down across his face and closed just enough that he _knew_, on a core level, that to move was to die.

Will was terrified on a primal level. Suddenly he wondered if they could actually trust this creature, or whether they were about to be the first prey among the humans on base, who would slowly fall to her. Would she play with her food first? His mind went to the things that mattered the most...Belle, Sarah, Hide...

~Will!~ Hide's voice roared across the bond, and Will realized that even fully occupied with his mate, Hide had, of course, felt his terror and was on his way. Lone Star was not far from the practice fields and the holotraining center, and Will could already hear the roar of a Topkick racing toward them.

::You might want to get off me,:: he pinged Wolfkat's socket. ::I forgot to tell Hide what we were doing...he's on his way.::

Will did not tell Hide to slow down, and wouldn't until Wolfkat was off of him. His fight or flight primitive fear was simply too strong at the moment.

::You surrender, then?:: she replied calmly, a voice completely at odds with her stance over him at the moment.

::Oh, absofuckinglutely. Yes, I yield.::

He felt her rumble of amusement through her teeth on his skull before she opened them and let his wrists go after he had his balance back. She took a step back and gave him a good looking over, then turned her attention to Epps.

Five mechs burst into the room before any of them could say anything.

"Stand down," Chromia had a hand on Ironhide's charged cannon as soon as she recognized who was there.

~I'm okay, Hide. You can stand down. Our sparring just got a bit ... realistic.~ Will sent lightning fast through their bond.

~Sparring...~ Ironhide repeated as he obeyed both commands and powered down his cannons.

"Holy fucking shit. I thought she'd taken your face off, Will!" Epps was still clearly freaking out, agitating Arcee, whose three units were making short distance between themselves and Wolfkat.

Chromia made a sharp click that didn't have a direct lingual translation and by the time she'd taken one step forward Wolfkat was scrambling up her chassis to perch on her shoulder.

"Stand down!" Will ordered, remembering that he actually had rank on every mech in the room, save perhaps Chromia. He wasn't sure where she fit in the chain of command. It was not often that he used it with the Autobots, but it occasionally came in handy. "Epps, calm down. No damage. She didn't even draw blood."

"You did however," Chromia said in a tone, even without knowing her, left both humans fairly sure she was impressed. "Who did what damage?"

Will felt his lips turn upward in a satisfied smile. He actually had drawn blood, though he also was fairly certain she had allowed it and could have taken them out much earlier.

"I got her once in the shin and once on her shoulder, Bobby managed to get the garrote around her neck once. And ... I'm fairly certain she could have taken us out much earlier. Wolfkat, we _have_ to do that again."

"I could have," she confirmed from lounging on Chromia's shoulder. "And I'm happy to spar anytime you like. You're both better than I expected."

~That is high praise, from both of them,~ Ironhide commented to Will as Arcee made sure their human wasn't hurt with three pairs of optics and very touchy hands.

"Now that we know everyone is fine," Chromia glared down at Arcee until the tiny femme gave an accepting nod. "_We_ can get back to my quarters," she fixated on Ironhide.

"I apologize for disturbing your reunion, Chromia. I'll make sure to let Hide know next time we decide to play hunter and prey so we don't send him running. Thank you, Wolfkat. I'll be in touch with you tomorrow about a training schedule." Will said, watching Wolfkat, despite an injured leg and arm, leap down from Chromia's shoulder to land with a smooth grace that was decidedly feline despite her wolfish appearance. ~Have fun, Hide. And thanks. I really did panic there for a moment when my face was in her mouth.~

Ironhide's optics cycled in surprise, then he huffed before Chromia all but dragged him from the room. ~Training or not, if you feel like _that_ again I'm coming. You've faced down Cons without spiking that bad.~

"I look forward to our next match," Wolfkat made a fast scooping motion with her nose.

"Oh, Wolfkat. Get your tail back to medbay and Jolt before Ratchet hears about you skipping out on repairs!" Chromia's voice drifted back to them.

The big alien chuckled and turned to leave. "Aye Alpha. Going now."

"You are not fighting that creature again," Arcee hissed at Epps when the door closed behind Wolfkat.

"I can learn so much from her, baby. She did serious damage to ole Holocade her first round, and there is so much she could teach me."

"There is so much _I_ can teach you, too. I also know the advantages of being small and fast. I do not trust that creature. She has far too much predator in her to be safe around other organics."

"If she was going to hurt either of us, I think today would have seen some _human_ blood dripping," he pointed out and reached up to caress the faceplates in front of him. "I'm not discounting ya baby, but Will nailed her twice and I had a wire around her neck. If we can trigger her kill-responses, we would have."

Will laughed. "We _did_ do a lot more damage than I expected we would, though like I said, she was holding back. Arcee, it wouldn't be a bad idea to have a quick and fast model like you involved in human hand-to-hand training as well. You might find that you like Wolfkat once you get to know her. You both have a lot in common."

The femme huffed. "I think I will get involved in your training. I still don't like her."


	52. The Naturalists 11: Protoform Passion

**Fandom:** Transformers Bayverse (POV'verse)  
**Author:** gatekat and femme4jack on LJ  
**Pairing:** Mirage/Hound/Alicia Rodriguez  
**Rating:** NC-17 for mech/mech/female  
**Codes:** Sticky, Slash, Het, Xeno (Transformer/Human)  
**Summary:** Finally allowed to recover in his quarters, Mirage is welcomed home.  
**Notes:** Written in the Dathana de Gray fanverse (community .livejournal .com/tf_socket_fics)  
"text" Organic languages translated via socket software  
**"text"** translated Cybertronian.  
~text~ Bond or cable talk  
::text:: comm talk

* * *

****

The Naturalists 11: Protoform Passion

* * *

A month had passed since Mirage had been allowed to talk to them, connect to them. Even though they spent as much of every day they could with him, between surgeries, forced stasis to heal and Mirage's ever more noticeable discomfort with his lack of armor, it had been far less than she had wanted. Hound reminded her that he was making good progress, but it was difficult to work in the field while Mirage was still recovering.

Now was the worst of it. Ratchet had commed Hound that Mirage was being released from medbay on the condition that they return to keep an optic on him through the rest of his physical recovery. That was expected to take another year.

Alicia had spent the morning cleaning up the large quarters even more thoroughly than the cleaning drone, paying special attention to get up every single individual piece of cat hair she could find. In her personal room she could hear Simba making a fuss at his confinement. He had arrived, much to her surprise, about a week after Mirage had awoken. With all that had happened, she had completely forgotten that her mechs had promised to find a way to bring her elderly cat to her as quickly as possible.

"You don't want to know," Hound had told her when she'd asked how it had come about.

"Cállate gatito," she called out to him. "The last thing he needs is to be bothered with you."

::Love, we'll be there in a klik,:: Hound commed her via the socket. ::He's still a very grumpy, naked, ill-tempered invisible noble,:: he added with a bit of amusement.

::Kitty is put away and the hair is all cleaned up...I hope.:: Though there were no promises that there wasn't any fur on Hound, who had been Simba's favorite warm napping spot during the time the spent in their own quarters and not with Mirage or in the adjoining room in medbay.

She climbed up the large mech-sized sofa and plopped herself in the middle just as the door to their quarters opened and Hound stepped inside. Only after the door had closed and locked did Mirage reveal himself, and his optics were already on Alicia with a hungry glint. He was still unarmored, only his protoform to protect the blue-white spark she could see pulsing in the middle of his chest.

"Thank you for securing Simba," his smooth old Spanish flowed over her. "I am glad he arrived safely."

She smiled at him warmly. "I only wish I could secure his mouth. I had forgotten how loud he was," she commented with obvious affection toward the cat. "If I ever get another, remind me _not_ to get a Siamese. And ... however the two of you did it, thank you. Now," she said, patting large cushion beside her, "what is the first thing you want to do now that you are finally out of Ratchet's clutches?"

"A long, hot bath," Mirage rumbled even as Hound pulled him close to his chest. "I haven't been _clean_ since we left the base together." He reluctantly pulled forward, out of Hound's embrace, to pick Alicia up. "While I want a day of long, hard interfacing and claiming you, I'm not that healed yet."

"Then a bath it is," she replied, looking at him adoringly. "The rest will come when you are ready. I can wait ... a little bit."

"I'm looking forward to it," Mirage purred, cradling her lower than usual so she didn't rest against his spark housing as they walked to the bathroom.

"And being strong enough to have your armor again," Hound gently caressed his lover's shoulder.

"That as well," he admitted without shame, "It is undignified."

"It may feel undignified, love, but to me you are as beautiful and elegant as ever," Alicia said, kissing the smooth, almost soft feeling metal on his abdomen. She felt as much as heard the soft rumble of approval, only to realize that there was no engine noise, no rev of that powerful power plant she'd become accustomed to when she complemented him.

"The engine you hear is part of our exoskeleton," Hound explained as he knelt to manipulate the bath. "So is the spike and valve. In this state, intimacy is back to the very old methods. Just so you know, it's a hot oil bath, not water. Protoforms relax better in it."

Alicia looked at the very different fluid entering the tub, still clear, but obviously a thicker consistency. A bit strange, perhaps, but she was always up for a new experience.

"Is it safe for me? I can stay on the side, but I'd like to try."

"It should be safe for you," Mirage stroked her leg gently with the hand supporting her lower half. "The pleasure will be quite different from what you've been used to," he continued as he stepped into the deep oil bath. "I don't have a spike or valve, and most of my cables are missing. I can still connect, but there is little I can actually to for you, or for you to watch."

"Mirage, even if connecting with either of you was all we could _ever_ do, it would be enough."

The oil bath was different, but very pleasant. It could support her without Mirage's hand holding her up. Whatever it was certainly wasn't petroleum based, had a familiar yet alien scent that she recognized as one of those she could always smell on both of her lovers. It felt deeply relaxing, almost as though the warmth massaged deep into her muscles.

The hiss of panels retracting, clatter of metal being moved and set down drew her attention to Hound, and she watched with wide eyes as Hound stripped down to his protoform.

Mirage rolled over in the thick oil, and smiled as he watched something even he rarely saw.

"It's about time I got a chance to see the two of you naked - you've certainly seen me enough ... though ... I don't have to remove equipment, only clothing. I'm sure I'd be reluctant if it were the former."

She was struck by how much _thinner_ both of them appeared, especially Hound. At her best guess, at least two thirds of his mass was in exoskeleton.

**"I'd almost forgotten what you look like,"** Mirage purred deeply as he extended a hand to invite his bonded to join him in the oil. **"Forgotten how perfect you are,"** he murmured against Hound's neck cables as the larger mech sank into the warm oil.

**"I can never forget how perfect you are,"** Hound murmured in reply and claimed Mirage's mouth in a kiss that threatened to melt both their circuits.

Alicia watched the two indulgently. If she only saw her lover naked every several hundred thousand years, she would likely forget anything else around her as well. Her socket was not yet enabling her to understand what it was they said, and as she was not yet plugged in, she had no clue, though the expressiveness on both of their faces she had learned to read told her enough. At a different moment, being shut out might have irked her, but not now, not with all that had happened in the past months. Now she simply wanted them to have what they wanted ... what they needed. She would have what she needed soon. They'd both agreed to claim her as soon as Mirage was healed enough. Even if the wait was painful, she understood it.

She barely noticed the cable snake towards her until it brushed against her socket and secured itself. Then the full awareness of the passion, the tenderness and the raw, unchecked sensuality of the situation flooded her from both of them.

It was such a relief to _feel_ Mirage with his pleasure and interfacing protocols online. She had missed his passion desperately, and feeling Hound's raw desire in response (and her own twirling around the two, already being lazily lapped up by their bright sparks) made her feel complete again in a way she hadn't felt since Mirage had first left. She knew, without their saying a word, that they would merge. They had not done so since Mirage had returned, and the need to reaffirm their eons old bond was desperate. She shivered, anticipating the beauty, sacredness, and the raw alien pleasure of it, and focused on nourishing the sparks that would merge with the strength of her own emotions - her love, devotion, and dedication to both of them and the offspring they would one day have. Watching the two sparks flare in response was its own sweet pleasure.

~Love you,~ Hound caressed her with his passion, warm and nurturing, before Mirage stole his attention with exploring hands and a kiss that drew a whimper from the graceful grey-black form that was Hound without his armor.

Despite his focus elsewhere, Mirage sent his wordless affection towards her, showed her that he valued her existence and her dedication to them. The mechs trembled and moaned as their softer protoform bodies rubbed against each other with an intimate friction that the pair almost never indulged in. It was simply too dangerous to remove ones armor in a war zone for it to be common.

The difference was apparent from the moment they touched. It was a highly intimate touch, one which could swiftly turn from pleasure to excruciating pain if not under the hands of one whom you completely trusted and who truly _knew_ you. Alicia realized quickly that the filtered sensation was likely to overwhelm her in the best sort of way, and she knew that without her being claimed, they she needed to be separated form them physically while they merged. Rather than risk drowning in the liquid which almost, but not quite, held her weight, she moved to the side of the bath and lay down on a cushion that was there.

The oil clung to her skin, and remained pleasantly warm, as though its heat were a conscious thing, sensing just what would relax her the most. A corner of her mind realized that it must be full of yet another form of nanites. There clearly wasn't a single part of their technology that didn't involve the microtechnorganisms that varied in size from that of a large human cell to as small as a subatomic particle.

She _felt_ her lovers' brief awareness of and gratitude for her movement to safety, allowing them to completely focus on one another and their bond while still being strengthened by her own pleasure and joy. Through their visible casings and in her own mind, she could _see_ how full both sparks already were.

Her hand settled on her own folds as she drank in their sensations and prepared to lose herself in the most exquisite form of intimacy she could imagine, even when experienced second hand and filtered for her own safety.

Touch, light and careful, was the center of the mech's universe. Minutes or hours, neither knew or cared as they took the rare opportunity to explore their protoforms in their completeness. Questions of if this was what the first lovers of their kind did flitted through their minds. Pleasure so intense not even _they_ could comprehend it bloomed across a sensor net unaccustomed to direct contact with another.

Their first overload hit both by surprise. Starting along the rim of Hound's spark chamber it as Mirage traced it with a delicate fingertip, it spread through them both with lightning speed but the gentleness of a tide coming in.

Mirage's cries were muffled against Hound's throat. Hound's rough howl echoed in the room wildly. Both their bodies shook, pressing together and rubbing to increase the charge as their sparks swelled to near bursting from Alicia's ecstasy.

Even lost in her own pleasure, she could _feel_ it went something changed. Protocols activated, programs neither knew before began to run, demanding more and more power. Surprise, bewilderment, uncertainty, information and then a touch of fear from Mirage flickered and flowed across their bond faster than she could follow.

Then it all settled with a long, tender kiss from Hound that drew his bonded back to their passion and away from all the new software running rampant across their systems.

And then she recognized it, or at least her flesh's interpretation of what they were feeling. It was the same drive that came over for a day each month, when her own body was ripe and ready to create life.

Her face lit up with a sly grin and she focused again on their sparks, consciously pouring herself into them, her fingers plunging her slick sex while her thumb pressed hard against her clit. The intensity of their own passion took her to a crest that with her own skilled hands she allowed to rise and fall repeatedly, like waves washing in from the ocean. She soon was completely lost in an impossibly long climax.

Pleasure and emotions washed over her. Pleasure and love dominated it all, but now and then came a flicker of something else; darker feelings, pain or the reflexive pulling back from one or the other. The merge, when it finally came, stopped her cold. Pleasure, intense and alien, washed through her, but with it came the realization that a spark merge wasn't _just_ for the pleasure.

It was for the sharing.

With the pain, fear and stress the pair had endured since their last merge, those, the spark-rape they'd each endured in their own way, dominated their existence for a time.

With it, though much more dimly to her horror, was a calm acceptance and the fact that this was by no means the worst they had endured to reaffirm their bond.

She nearly pulled back and disconnected. It was intensely person and painful. But she did not want to tear any attention away from what the two were sharing. Then she sensed that the pain of the sharing led to its own unique kind of healing and acceptance, an affirmation of the bond between them that was deeper than anything she could imagine or comprehend. Far deeper than the intimacy she shared with them, which was itself more powerful than anything she had imagined, and it swept her away from her own discomfort.

Slowly the fire of their sparks burned away the rawness of the pain, leaving a scar of the mind that hindered what was between their sparks very little. She had no doubt that they each had a lot of coping to do still. It was particularly clear in Hound's mind that he still had a _lot_ to work through. Yet even for him, this connection that put everything on display, highlighted the worst of his pain, left him comforted that there was at least one being that thought and cared no less of him for it.

They pulled apart briefly, their sparks reluctant to separate, before Hound wrapped his arms around Mirage and pulled him close, pressing their still-open spark chambers together.

~Love you,~ was said without words, igniting a passion as hot as anything either remembered since their bonding night.

Mirage threw his head back and keened, his entire form shaking from an ecstasy he didn't want to stop but couldn't quite give in to yet. The pain-pleasure of his systems drawing far more power than intended and channeling it through his spark made him nearly desperate to pull back, but in the forefront of his awareness was the price of doing so would be the life of the new spark forming between him and Hound.

So he wrapped his arms around Hound's neck, pressed his face against his the side of Hound's neck and trembled.

~Worth it,~ turned into a mantra for both of them as their systems, designed long after creating life this way had ceased, realigned and adapted to their wishes as Cybertronians always did.

Alicia clung to consciousness as long as she was able, her own pleasure bordering on pain. She finally faded just as she became aware of that third spark between her lovers'.


	53. FL 7: Lennox Family, meet Chromia

**Writers: **gatekat and femme4jack on LJ  
**Fandom: **Transformers Bayverse  
**Pairing: **Ironhide/Will Lennox/Sarah Lennox/Chromia  
**Rating: **NC-17 for femme/mech/male/female  
**Codes: **Slash, Het, Xeno (Transformer/Human), Sticky  
**Summary: **Ironhide introduces Chromia to his sockets.  
**Notes:** Written in the Dathanna de Gray fanverse (community .livejournal .com/ tf_socket_fics)  
"text" organic language  
**"text"** translated Cybertronian.  
~text~ bond/cable talk  
::comm chatter:

* * *

****

Frontliners 07: Lennox Family, meet Chromia

* * *

"So will Chromia get mawied to you an' Daddy and Hidey too, Mommy?" Annabelle asked

"She will spend a lot of time with us, sweetie, but I don't know if she wants to get married. She will likely stay in our house much of the time, but she and Ironhide will also spend time in her quarters in Long Shot."

"But that means I can't sleep in Hidey's seat!" Annabelle wailed.

"Sweetie, you are getting to be such a big girl for sleeping in his seat. But Hide loves keeping you safe there, so I'm sure it will still happen some of the time. Chromia is very important to Ironhide. Let's make sure she feels welcome."

"I already drew her a picture," the little girl said proudly, "but you can't see it yet," giving a sudden bright smile as Will walked in.

"Everything ready, my lovely ladies?"

Sarah laughed, embracing and kissing him. "Everything. Ratchet dropped off the high grade, beer is in the fridge, Belle drew a picture, and Mikaela will be by for Annabelle whenever we ping her."

"_Mikaela_ is watching Belle tonight? And Ratchet is ok with this? I thought we were asking Alicia and Hound," Will raised an eyebrow.

"I was going to, but Mirage got out of medbay today. Jazz is the one who suggested Mikaela. He was going to suggest Miles, but Hide would not have been pleased with her spending time in their quarters."

"Right, on both counts," Will winced at both the thought of how little watching his daughter would receive with Alicia and Hound and the fallout of her being in Jazz's quarters. "The big girl is on her way with Hide."

::Nervous babe?:: Sarah comm-ed her husband silently, even as the large door to their main quarters opened up.

::Have you _seen_ Chromia?:: he shot back. ::For that matter, have you seen her favorite pet?::

::Yes, I've seen Wolfkat, and Ironhide showed me memories of Chromia. And don't call her a pet. That is so rude.:: She hit him on the arm, just as Ironhide entered with Chromia.

"Sarah, are you abusing my other socket again?" Ironhide asked with no small amount of humor.

"Not abusing, disciplining, Hide..."

"HIDEY! I missed you!

Sarah was cut off by Annabelle running to jump on Hide's pede and hug some of the cabling there as tight as she could.

"Belle," Hide lit up the way he always did when tackled by the little girl. He reached down to pick her up and brought her optic level to Chromia. "This is my mate, Chromia."

"Hello, Annabelle," Chromia said a bit formally as she scanned the little creature staring at her fearlessly. "She will be a right terror when she matures."

::I'm pretty sure that's a good thing,:: Will commented privately to Sarah.

"Hi Chwomia. I drew a picture for you. It is of Hidey, since he said he was away from you for a long time. I thought you might want a picture of him to hang up on your wall."

The tiny girl proudly held out a picture of a vaguely vehicle shaped black form with wheels, decorated with stick figures, smiley faces, and rainbows made of glitter glue.

"How sweet of you," she accepted the image with a smile and gently teased the little girl's hair. "So thoughtful for being so young."

::Bets that was coached,:: Will considered the femme's features, tone, body stance and tension.

~It was,~ Ironhide told them both. ~Chromia is many things, but a guardian of young is not one of them.~

Annabelle, however, was completely convinced and beamed with pride, launching into what could have been an endless soliloquy of questions. "Are you going to marry my mommy and my daddy? Hidey says that you have a bow, and that I'll get to watch you shoot it at the weapons range. Can you teach me how to shoot a bow? It might be easier for me than a cannon. They are too big for me. Daddy fought someone with a dagger a few days ago and was really proud of himself but he said I can't use a dagger yet because they are too sharp and I might poke my eye out."

"Belle," Sarah said sternly, "that is enough questions. Other people want a turn."

"No, yes, when you are big enough," Chromia answered easily in order. Even as fast as the child talked, it was far slower than her native speech. "What questions did you have?" she asked and crouched to close to their level.

Sarah was taken a bit off guard. She had been trying to keep Belle from taking over, but wasn't sure what questions to ask. She was nervous, and was frustrated with herself for it.

"Not as much questions, but, just wanting to welcome you," Sarah began, looking the giant femme in the optics. She was nearly as large as Ironhide, and just as well armored. "Hide is so happy. We hope you will treat this as your home as much as you wish to. And Will and I have discussed it, and we would very much like to share with you as we do with Hide if you wish it. You are like family to him, which means you are to us as well."

"You are going to share your toys with Chwomia, mommy?" Annabelle suddenly asked from her perch on Ironhide. "I didn't know you have toys, but you can't share you clothes because they would be too small on her."

Ironhide was desperately trying not to shake Annabelle off as he controlled his laughter, Will was grinning like a maniac, but it was Chromia that came to her rescue. Sort of.

"Adult toys, Annabelle," the large femme responded. "The kind that Hide and I will hunt down and blast anyone trying to share with you before you're an adult."

"Can I see them? I won't play with them, I promise," Annabelle's sweet voice continued.

Will was glad he wasn't drinking a beer yet, or it would have been through his nose.

"When you are big enough and it is safe for you, Annabelle, just like the guns, bows and daggers," Ironhide said gently despite still suppressing his booming laughter.

::Now our child thinks that we share weapons with you. That will create interesting ideas for her. You realize she will be asking everyone about this now?:: Will open commed to all three 'adults' in the room.

::If you will recall, Will, we have shared my weapons, on multiple occasions,:: Ironhide replied smugly.

::Not to mention there isn't a mech on base that won't know exactly what was meant,:: Sarah snickered before looking at her daughter. "Belle, you ready to go play with Ratchet and Mikaela?"

"No, mommy. I 'cided I want to stay here and play with Chwomia instead. She is _bigger_ than uncle Ratchet."

Ironhide grunted, still amused, but rather frustrated as well. Human culture was so strange when it came to sexuality and their young. Most other socket cultures did not hide so much from their little ones. While mechs would never share with young until they were sexually mature, they normally did not have to go to such lengths to conceal what was going on. Humans, at least from Will and Sarah's culture, were on the one hand tremendously sexually repressed and sex addicted all at once. He wished they did not need to send Annabelle away, that for her seeing her parents with their mech would be natural, normal, and something not to think twice about. But it would be many generations before that was the case with human sockets.

"Mikaela and Ratchet will be very disappointed if they cannot play with you, little Belle. Medbay is one of the very best places on base for hide and seek, and I heard they have ice cream for you," Ironhide sagaciously explained to the child, knowing exactly what would spark her interest and sending a quick comm to Ratchet to makes sure he had some ice cream brought over from the rec room and not to grouse about the harmful effects of dairy and sugar on human health.

The medic groused anyway, but said he would and that Mikaela was on her way.

"Oh, they will _never_ find me. I will find the best hiding place ever!" Annabelle squealed in delight.

::Your ability to manipulate young will never cease to amaze me, my plasma,:: Chromia chuckled privately to all three adults.

::You ought to have seen how I used to manipulate Optimus, as well as his brother,:: Ironhide added. ::Chromia was truly in awe. I still can get away with it with Prime from time to time, and he knows it. But I'm afraid that Belle manipulates me far more than I do her, and I would not have it any other way.::

::Just wait until she's a teenager and is going for things you don't approve of,:: Will smirked.

::Prime has a brother?:: Sarah glanced between the other three, noticing the sudden tension in all three. ::Okay, what _haven't_ I been told?::

Chromia exchanged a glance with Ironhide. ::The Prime and the Lord High Protector are always brothers, sparked at the same time, but not twins.::

Sarah stilled, trying to work out what they hadn't said outright until she blinked as a tidbit of trivia surfaced. ::Megatron?::

::He was so very promising until he went insane, and he was a good friend. Once Prime was ordained and Megatron ascended, I served under the Lord High Protector. He assigned me to be his brother's chief of security.::

"Are you all talking about something through your comms?" Annabelle asked suspiciously just as there was a ping at the human-sized door.

Sarah signaled it to open. "Come on in, Mik. Have you met Chromia yet?"

Mikaela walked in breathlessly, obviously having hurried over. "No, but I will soon. Ratchet would like me to do your intake now that you and Ironhide are out of hiding, since I had so much fun doing intakes on the rest of your cadre. Tomorrow work ok for you? 0930?"

"Obviously, this is Mikaela Banes, Ratchet's apprentice medic and socket," Sarah said, smiling at the confident young woman.

"Acceptable," the large femme inclined her head slightly as he took in the woman's measure. "I've heard much about you from Jolt, and Dogfight is still sputtering about how you forced him to be still," her optics glittered in amusement. "Ratchet has chosen well."

Mikaela's face beamed, and she laughed. "Oh, Seekers are so easy to deal with once you know how. You ready Belle? Ratchet and I have cooked up some awesome plans for tonight. He just ran to the rec room to get you some strawberry sorbet he wants you to try. Non-dairy and sweetened with fruit juice," she added with a wink at Ironhide as he gently set her tiny form on the floor in front of Mikaela, who took her hand.

"Give your mommy and daddy a hug and a kiss sweetie," Mikaela added as Sarah handed her a little overnight bag for their daughter.

Annabelle gave her parents lightning fast kisses, ran back to Ironhide and kissed his pede and then did the same to Chromia, much to her surprise.

"Bye! Enjoy your night of uninterrupted sleep, Sarah and Will...or at least uninterrupted by child," Mikaela laughed as they headed out the door.

::As if anyone's likely to recharge,:: Chromia smirked, watching as the young woman and her mate's socket's young disappeared behind closed doors. With the easy manner of someone created to command and who's long life had only enforced the attitude, she walked over to the mech-sized couch and sat down, watching as the others joined her. "It is good to hear Ironhide has chosen sockets that welcome me so freely," she reached out to caress Will and Sarah with a careful finger. "He has explained that I rarely claim myself, but we share?"

"He has, though I'm curious why, if you don't mind if I ask," Sarah smiled at the giant light matte blue and green femme ... who aside from her voice did not appear all the 'femme-like' to the human, though that made sense considering what Ironhide and explained to her regarding how they adapted to organic genders. She certainly was no Arcee. She found herself idly wondering what kind of holoform she would choose.

Ironhide had taken a detour on his way to the couch to grab two cubes of high grade and a couple of beers for his humans, handing them around.

"Primarily because I am _very_ possessive once I claim, and it has been a very, very long time since we have had enough organics around that being unwilling to share them has been acceptable," Chromia explained as she accepted the high grade and sipped it.

"Would you have claimed Wolfkat if not for that? She seems like a pretty good match for a warrior like you," Will commented, taking a drink of his beer and grinning as Chromia continued to carefully stroke his back along with his wife's, whom he knew was beyond thrilled about what was likely coming.

"I think Will has a crush on her, ever since she almost ate off his face." Sarah added, rolling her eyes.

"She was quiet impressed, given you are a non-predatory species," Chromia chuckled. "No, I wouldn't claim her. She responds to sexual contact about as well as most do to direct pain. She's an excellent warrior and small-unit leader and field tactician, but she is not socket material."

"My wife, however, responds to sexual contact like an addict, Chromia, and she spent at least an hour making herself pretty for you today," Will teased.

"Will!" Sarah hit him in the arm.

Chromia vented a sound of relief and played with Sarah's hair. "Good. I was rather hoping all the non-human material on your skin was intentional."

"He's even worse," Ironhide chuckled. "If you _really_ want to get him high, take him out to share your cannons on the range."

"I definitely will," she rumbled. "And possibly share _yours_ as well."

"Hey now, how come _I've_ never had a chance to shoot any cannons?" Sarah asked with a mock scowl, finishing up her beer and climbing onto Chromia's lap.

"Probably because everyone is afraid of who you'd go after with them," Will responded with a silly grin, watching his wife get cozy with their lover's lover. He didn't need mech sensors to know how keyed up she was with nervous anticipation. "You know, babe, make-up is probably messy for them. Rubs off on the armor. Maybe you should break out some of your costumes next time, instead," he added innocently.

"William Lennox!" Sarah cried out, but with a silly grin on her face.

"Exactly what are these costumes, Sarah?" Ironhide rumbled, clearly amused.

"Dress up socket is generally fun," Chromia rumbled, her optics dilating slightly in eagerness.

Sarah smirked. "I suddenly feel like one of Belle's dolls, the ones she tried to get Hide to play with. But...considering the reaction it is getting, I could possibly be talked into that."

"From what I've seen, Sarah, you can be talked into just about anything," Ironhide rumbled, before taking his and Chromia's high grade and placing the cubes safely away from the humans. He plucked Will up and placed him in his lap before leaning over to kiss his mate passionately.

"It will be so good to share sockets with you again, 'Mia. Their energy is so good, especially when they mate."

**"You know how much I hate that designation,"** she grumbled before reaching over to pull his helm closer into the kiss while her other hand drew Sarah closer against her interface panel. "Now ... since I've never watched humans mate, why don't we start the evening with that?" she rumbled deeply, the vibrations setting off Sarah's nervous system in the best way.

"Can we all connect?" Sarah asked in a husky voice. When Ironhide connected both of them to himself and gave their sensations to one another, amplified through him, it was nothing short of fantastic. She trembled just imagining adding another lover to the link, especially if the two of them began to go at it at the same time.

"Definitely," Chromia's rumble deepened as a connection cable slid out from her wrist to press itself into Sarah's hand. "Plug me in."

Ironhide's cable was already plugged in to Will's socket and both humans watched in fascination as filaments extracted from cables and wound together to connect all four.

Sarah sensibly pulled off her shirt before plugging Chromia's cable into her neck, her eyes already half closed in anticipation. The rush of pleasure from the femme was intense, far more than Ironhide ever sent her. It was nearly enough to push her to orgasm right there.

~Settle, my love,~ Ironhide's voice drifted over the four-way connection. ~We have _time_ here.~

~Yes, lots of time. Will wants to watch me with you next, don't you, Will?~ Sarah teased, reveling in the feel of him through the connection. Ironhide had explained that in claiming them both, he also brought their energy more into resonance with one another, and that over time (as in several human lifespans), she would feel a bond with him as well. Even now, sharing together was already devastatingly erotic and pleasurable. They had taken to connecting by cable even when they made love without Hide, and were getting much better at it.

~Wait until you feel them together, my spark. The way their smooth skin slides together reminds me so much of protoforms.~

All three felt the intense spire of desire from Chromia, a taste of how much of a forbidden pleasure it was to her.

~Yes, but I want more of what _that_ was,~ Will moaned, his back arching to press his shoulders and ass against Ironhide's chassis. ~Damn, Hide. What makes that so special?~

~To feel another's protoform against yours means you've both stripped your primary _and_ secondary armor off, weapons, kibble ... everything but the core of your body. It takes time, leaves you even more vulnerable than baring your spark,~ Chromia explained. ~A spark chamber you can close quickly. It takes time to put weapons and armor back on, and a protoform is very vulnerable. I haven't felt the touch of anything pleasant on my torso protoform since I was twenty-five. Once I finished training, I've never bared myself again.~

There was no mistaking the longing the humans could feel from both warriors for something they did not allow themselves, and perhaps _would_ never allow themselves as frontline warriors. Just as there was no mistaking the longing from the two humans that the pair _could_ someday have such intimacy. Sarah made quick work of the rest of her clothes and draped herself on Chromia's interface panel, tracing deep in it's seems with her lithe fingers.

"Where would you like to watch Will and I?" The human asked the warrior.

Chromia groaned, her hips twitching upwards into the touch with a wash of _solong-sogood-almostforgot_.

~I think I'd rather you keep that up,~ Ironhide rumbled and leaned forward to kiss Chromia again. ~I _like_ what you're doing.~

~Anything, just keep doing that,~ Chromia shuddered as Sarah's fingers found wires that hadn't been touched in tens of thousands of years.

Sarah looked up at the kissing lovers with wicked grin. ~Oh, my, you are hungry, aren't you? Would you like to feel Will take me from behind while I do this to you?~ She leaned forward and began to attack the seams with her tongue as well as her fingers which were reaching in deeper and allowing Chromia's pleasure to guide her hands.

~Yes,~ the femme moaned out loud, though much of the sound disappeared into Ironhide's mouth. ~Forgot how good this was.~

~You won't have need to forget again for a long time,~ he rumbled, briefly capturing his glossa between his denta as he helped Will get between Chromia's pedes behind his wife.

Will made quick work of his clothes before moving to embrace his wife from behind, his hard heat resting between her slender buttocks as he slid his hands down her front and playfully bit the fleshy area between her neck and shoulder, bruising her. One hand squeezing her breast and played with her nipple, and the other expertly explored her sex, three fingers pushing inside her already slick cunt and his palm grinding hard against her clit.

Sarah liked it hard and rough, far rougher than Will had ever guessed until connecting with her through Hide and having their alien lover guide him to bring her even greater pleasure by feeding him her own desires and sensations. He had always been far too careful with her before, even when she was urging him on.

Sarah began to grind herself against his hand wantonly, but never took her attention off of Chromia's blue and green armor and what lie underneath the plating.

Chromia's optics shuttered as she gave in to the sensations. Fingers and cables stroked both humans, urging them on out of habit of needing to do this quickly and with little care for her own pleasure.

~Love, we have time,~ Ironhide repeated gently, nearly a mantra to urge her to remove millennia of vorns of practical experience and hard-trained protocols that were no longer needed. Not here, not in his home.

Sarah arched into Will's touch. ~Fast is ok...I like fast for the first time around, but make sure that _you_ get a chance to enjoy it,~ Sarah purred through the cable connecting her to Chromia. ~I'm looking forward to feeling what it is like when you spike Hide or he spikes you.~

The femme rumbled deeply, her interface panel heating up dramatically at the thought being intimate with her lover. Despite all the pleasure and strength flowing from the organics, the effort Chromia made to make it good for them, it was impossible to misunderstand that this was a need she had learned to enjoy, not a natural desire in her.

~I'm glad you can enjoy having your needs met. We certainly enjoy meeting your needs,~ Sarah said warmly, pressing her naked body into the hot interface panel

Will urged Sarah with his knees and hands to kneel and spread her legs, while he turned onto his back and slid underneath her and began to almost lazily suck on her clit, flicking his tongue against her bundle of nerves.

~Can Sarah play with your spike or valve while she sits on my face,~ Will asked excitedly

~Or do you prefer we not touch you that way?~ Sarah added, as she moved her hips back and forth against her husband's willing tongue. She trembled with excitement, but wanted to make sure they didn't push too hard.

The sense that this was still unexpected, that warned still hadn't prepared her for the return of interactive sockets.

::You really don't have to, my love,:: Ironhide transmitted to her privately. ::You really haven't had a socket that wanted more that to pay for their keep since you left.::

::When we had a socket at all,:: she confirmed on the private channel, the conversation blocked from the two sockets. ::It's so strange, that they want to touch me.::

::They view themselves as my lovers, above all else. It is part of the nature of their species. It gives them pleasure to pleasure us, and helps them feel more equal, which is extremely important to both of them. But neither of them will be offended at all if you say no, or even not yet. Will took a lot of convincing to consent to being claimed, and he has no desire to push others where they do not wish to go.::

Chromia stroked both humans with her cables, considering her answer for a lingering moment.

~I don't think I'm ready for that,~ she murmured, a half apology in her mind with the sense that it had been ages since any organic had wanted to, and they were too new to her to expose such sensitive circuits.

There was no sense of concern from either member of the human pair, just a genuine desire to make this as good for her as possible. Will slid his tongue deep into Sarah before going back to sucking and licking her clit, guided by her own responses through their connection.

~No worries, Chromia,~ Sarah assured her. ~We weren't always this forward, especially not Will.~

~I am looking forward to feeling you mate while I spike Ironhide _hard_,~ she rumbled deeply. ~Your pleasure is delicious.~

Sarah moaned at the images that came to mind at that suggestion, and then suddenly whimpered as Will moved out from underneath her, only to push her whole body up against Chromia's panel and thrust _hard_ into her from behind.

"Mmmm," the femme hummed deeply, nearly a rumble, at the pleasure from the humans and the familiar pleasure of thrusting against her panel.

"Such a hot tease," Ironhide shuddered as he watched his mate spread her pedes and wrap her arms along the back of the couch, her optics dim with pleasure as she began to rock in reply to Will's thrusts.

The heat of Chromia's panel was almost burning against Sarah's skin, but the heat of her hungry spark was even more overpowering. She focused on channeling her pleasure and her desire toward that spark, while her fingers once again dug in to the seams on the femme's panel, determined to give to her Chromia's frame as well as spark.

She wanted Chromia to feel welcome, cared for, desired, and _home_ with them. Ironhide was precious to her - friend, lover, another parent to her child, protector, companion to her husband. He had added more to their lives than they could have ever imagined, and her soul overflowed with desire to somehow make his ancient warrior lover a part of their family as well, in whatever way she wished.

~I do feel welcome,~ Chromia brushed against her mind with a humming moan and slight shudder. ~He taught you well how to touch a mech.~ She reached out with cables to circle and fondle Sarah's breasts, her clit, her belly. Another snaked around to tease a slick tip against Will's ass.

Will slammed into Sarah a final time, pushing her hard against Chromia's heat as his hot seed spurting inside of her. She _felt_ his orgasm as though it was her own, and that was enough to put her over the edge, giving high pitched moans as her climax spun out of control.

~So sweet,~ Chromia's approval and enjoyment washed over them, even though the femme was far from overload herself.

~You're going to drive them crazy holding back like that, love,~ Ironhide chuckled and leaned over to claim her mouth in a kiss that did more to turn her on than feeling the entire mating and orgasm of both humans.

Sarah tried to hide her disappointment in the response they had received from their mech's mate. She was accustomed to a response from Ironhide as big as the mech himself, orgasms met with roars of overload, or his overload itself being what triggered her own climax. From behind her, where Will was still gasping and nuzzling her neck, she could feel his own confusion. Had they done something wrong? Was it not what she needed?

A great deal of it was that the connection wasn't nearly as open as she was accustomed to, and the blissful feedback loop just was not possible without that.

No able to feel much from Chromia even now, she focused her attention on her connection with Ironhide, on what the kiss was like for him, on his desperate desire to have his mate slam into him the way only a fellow warrior could, and to do the same, in turn, for her.

~It's not you,~ Ironhide assured them both. ~She's ... not used to letting herself go with a socket, or sockets that want it. She's not _letting_ herself enjoy it,~ he added in frustration that was largely shielded from his mate. ~A mech she knows what to do with.~

Sarah breathed a sigh of relief, even as Will guided them away from between Chromia's thighs to give the two lovers room come together. He pulled her to the far end of the mech-sized couch and kissed Sarah heatedly.

~Then we'll enjoy her enjoying you.~ Sarah said, something that Will echoed greedily. _That_ was something neither of them had felt yet, and were intensely curious about.

~She'll loosen up,~ he promised as he crawled onto Chromia's lap and straddled it before kissing her again. ~Just give her a few metacycles to accept we're not under constant attack.~

"Chromia," Sarah purred, feeling the heat between the two alien lovers as if it were her own. "Will you spike our mech while he takes Will?" she asked sweetly. "I'd like to watch and feel that."

"Aren't you going to ask me my opinion on that?" Will asked with a teasing grin.

"No, babe. I thought I'd just give you your orders," she smirked.

Chromia got a wicket grin on her face and promptly pushed Ironhide to his back on the ground before twisting to pick up the humans and move them to her mate's chest. She slid a strong set of claws down Ironhide's interface panel, scraping the sensitive metal. "Open up, my plasma," she rumbled in a blatant demand.

Ironhide rumbled, his sockets feeling more than hearing the rev of his engine and his fans kicking in. He grunted and wrapped both of his sockets in cables for their own safety and to begin preparing and lubing Will even as his panel slid open, spike emerging fully pressurized and valve weeping with lubrication. "Anything for you, my spark."

With an utterly feral grin Chromia knelt and took his spike into her mouth and down her intake tube in a single motion.

Ironhide growled in pleasure, his cables pulling Sarah between Will's thighs, urging her to imitate the action.

~Unlike your mate,~ Sarah commented even as she took her husband's cock into her mouth, ~I have a gag reflex.~ She began bobbing up and down, her tongue caressing its sensitive underside and tip.

~One of these days I'll convince you to let him fix that," Will groaned and arched into the attention, unconsciously putting on a show for his mech and mech's lover. How much he wanted the four of them to work rang out clearly across link and bond.

Both humans moaned and writhed as Ironhide began feeding the intensity of what Chromia was doing to him, how she knew each node to stimulate and just how to massage his sensor laden tip with her intake.

Sarah rose to the challenge, finding a wicked sense of competition in attempting to give the same sort of attention to Will's cock as Chromia was giving to her lover's spike. Even if what she could do was but a pale shadow, she soon had Will trembling and groaning, grabbing at her head to try to thrust.

~Rest on your hands,~ she shoved her husband back, forcing him enough off balance that he instinctively braced against back stretched arms. All three felt the serge of arousal the demand and the move brought, and Chromia's amused approval of the strong, dominant non-com mate.

When Chromia drew off Ironhide's spike he objected with a shuddering moan that changed tenor half way through when her spike breached his valve and hilted in it in a single move.

Will and Sarah both gave a simultaneous groan and the pleasure that ripped through them as they both experienced for the first time the fabulous sensation of a spike lighting up every sensor in their lover's valve.

Sarah gave Will a wicked grin, licked her fingers joined the single thin cable already there and began stretching her husband's tight hole.

"Ride my cock, babe," her husband groaned, nearly begging as Chromia pulled back and thrust in again. "I need to feel you around me."

"Yess," she hissed, giving up her desire to see her husband riding Hide for another time. She pinned his hands on either side of his head and mounted him, deliberating focusing on his perceptions and sensations as he slid into her.

Cables from their mech continued to caress them both, but Will was under her, gasping and straining to claim her mouth as he thrust up and she moved, controlling their passion. Under them Chromia's passion made Ironhide hot and shook his frame, the big mech's moan's of pleasure vibrated up through them.

As intense as passion with the three of them was, passion with four, with a mech Ironhide felt so strongly for, was nothing short of amazing.


	54. The Naturalists 12: Claiming Alicia

**Fandom:** Transformers Bayverse (POV'verse)  
**Author:** gatekat and femme4jack on LJ  
**Pairing:** Mirage/Hound/Alicia Rodriguez  
**Rating:** NC-17 for mech/mech/female  
**Codes:** Slash, Het, Xeno (Transformer/Human), Sticky  
**Summary:** Mirage gets his armor back, Hound gets yelled at, and over weakening objections from her mechs about how quickly this is moving, Alicia is claimed by Mirage and Hound.  
**Notes:** Written in the Dathana de Gray fanverse (community .livejournal .com/tf_socket_fics)  
"text" Organic languages translated via socket software  
"**text**" translated Cybertronian.  
~text~ Bond or cable talk  
::text:: comm talk

* * *

****

The Naturalists 12: Claiming Alicia

* * *

Ratchet sat at his desk, once more going through the datapads Jazz had provided him on unsanitized Allspark-free reproduction, which were right on top of the ones given to him by Tread Bolt regarding Seeker reproduction. Mikaela sat on his lap, absentmindedly caressing a seam, connected to him through her socket so that he could explain to the mechanic what he was studying. It was relaxing to have her there, soothing his spark about the dangers of what was happening with Shimmerfire and was going to happen with other bonded pairs sooner rather than later.

~I didn't sign up to be an OB-Gyn.~ he grumbled.

~Oh hush, you. You are a Family Practice Doc. That means you get to do it all.~ she replied with a mental laugh.

They were both distracted by a silent chime in Ratchet's system that notified him of someone entering the medbay. A fraction of a thought later and the system IDed his visitors: Mirage, cloaked of course, Hound and Alicia Rodriguez.

With a silent signal, the door to his office slid open. ~This will probably take a bit,~ Ratchet commented with a mental caress. ~You want to take Alicia to the rec room and have some femme bonding time?~

~You know she will insist on staying. What's wrong, you afraid of her?~ Mikaela had a wickedly devious smile.

~Only person I'm more afraid of than her is you,~ he deadpanned as he shifted her to his shoulder and walked out to greet his appointment.

~Rightly so,~ Mikaela snickered. ~Latinas are a scary lot. Mirage gets his armor back today?~ she attempted to mind-pronounce his name correctly with it's glyph.

~He does, so hopefully he will quite sulking around invisible in the corridors.~ He brushed her with affection before looking up to see the three enter. Out of habit, he scanned all three, looking especially for sings of strain on Alicia. He was always concerned for sockets who were with two or more mechs. It became too easy for them to lose themselves and lose track of their own needs. However, as soon as his scan brushed over Hound, he stopped and froze.

"How long have you been carrying, Hound," he said in a deadly calm voice.

"Umm, less than a week, I'd guess," the scout responded with a mixture of well-earned fear of that voice and his own surprise, though he calmed quickly when Mirage uncloaked and touched his arm. "I wasn't sure. I was going to bring it up after Mirage got his exoskeleton back on."

Ratchet vented, then spoke with the same dead calm. Most on base would have preferred that he yell.

"While I can understand how much the two of you needed to reaffirm your bond after what you have gone through, how could you go and put Hound ... and thus both of you at risk right away again? I would have expected this of Jazz, but the two of you could have at least waited until we were ready and I'd given the go ahead. And then, to have any idea that you had sparked, and not to report it to me immediately?"

Ratchet stalked toward the main portion of the medbay where Mirage's armor was waiting, set out on a table next to a berth. Without a word he pointed at a second berth for Hound.

The pair nodded, suitably chastised, and went to the berths. But Alicia could feel through the connection to Hound that he was both ecstatic and utterly terrified of what Ratchet had said. More distantly, Mirage was feeling much the same, though his distress was far stronger than his joy.

Surprisingly, or perhaps not so surprisingly, Ratchet did not start with Mirage's armor. Instead he initiated a much deeper scan on Hound, silently connecting his medical interface to a port on the mech's wrist.

"Mikaela, please connect Hound to an energon line. His reserves are low. The new spark is viable, but weak. Weaker than it should be at this point according to the records. If we had been planning for this, I would have had you on medical grade energon for 20 orn before your attempt, and would have had Alicia single connect to you during the merge and continue to single connect with you several times a day during those initial orns when things are so critical."

"Oh," Hound murmured, visibly shocked and a little shaken as Mikaela moved swiftly to set up the infusion. "We ... we weren't planning. It just ... once..."

"I know," Ratchet huffed before focusing on the human sitting next to Hound, leaning against her mech's leg supportively. "Alicia, I'm concerned for you. From the research I've done and the conversations I've had with Jazz, we assume that a socket single connecting on a regular basis, even several times a day during the first several orn will greatly increase the chances it won't be reabsorbed. However, it is also critical that Mirage's spark continue to be strengthened after his recent injuries. I know you that you human females think that you are insatiable, but even you can become drained and exhausted from too much sharing, both physically and mentally."

"I'd do anything to help them or the new spark," Alicia said, resolute, her arms crossed in front of her chest.

"And that is precisely my concern," he pointed out dryly.

"My spark is not that weak," Mirage spoke up. "If it is strong enough to create a sparkling, even a weak one, it is stronger than it has been in vorns."

"There are other sockets that share," Hound added, his processors scrambling. "Jazz and Miles keep a list of those who are willing to share with most anyone who asks."

Alicia started to say something, then stopped herself and simply pouted and caressed Hound's leg from where she sat next to him.

~It is a wonderful thing, Hound. Not everything can be planned and controlled. If it takes sharing with others to keep the spark and your spark strong, that's what we'll do. But I think I can decide what I'm strong enough for, and not Ratchet.~

~Agreed, but he does have a point. There is no reason you should carry the full burden of this any more than I should,~ Hound caressed her mind with a wash of affection.

Ratchet looked at Mirage. "No, it is not that weak, but I highly doubt you would have created a sparkling had Alicia not been directly connected during the merge, and that was only just enough, given the readings I get from the spark. This will be very iffy. It may very well reabsorb regardless of what we do."

Hound felt a spike of pain at that, his processors accepting the reality of the statement even as his emotional center and spark rebelled fiercely. Across their bond, Mirage tried to sooth him, but he wasn't in a much better state himself.

~If anyone can nurture it, you can,~ the spy eventually got a coherent thought through the turmoil.

"So singe-share several times a day. Medical grade energon. Report to Jazz, Prowl and Prime that I'm carrying ... or do you do that?" Hound glanced at the medic.

"They have already been informed. I should warn you that Jazz may be a bit ... sensitive that he and Prowl were not first," Ratchet said dryly. "And that is almost enough to make me forget how angry I am at both of you."

~Let me deal with our commander,~ Mirage brushed against Hound's awareness with a fondness for the silver mech and a calm certainty that he could win him over.

Ratchet turned toward Mirage and spoke with unaccustomed friendliness toward the noble.

"Let's get you put back together, shall we? If I recall the conversations I was privy to here in medbay, you two have a socket to claim. Even I can't think of any objections at this point - she obviously has a will and mind of her own."

"Can you expect anything less from one that Hound chooses?" Mirage actually chuckled and relaxed back. Technically, he could put his own armor on, but given how it had come off, he was willing to submit to the medic's mild paranoia that it integrate properly with his protoform.

Ratchet smiled faintly and began to reattach the spy's elegant armor. Even a surly old medic could admire the quality and crafting of what Mirage's nanites were able to create.

"Regardless of my being angry with the two of you," he said quietly as he worked, "I am also tremendously pleased you were successful. I honestly was not sure that it would work for those of us who were not built with it in mind. There truly is reason to hope for our future again, and hope is something I had given up a long time ago. Even if this one is reabsorbed, we know that you _can_ create a new spark, and that having an organic symbiot assists with the process."

Mikaela whispered to Alicia. "I've really mellowed him out." To which the latina covered her mouth to prevent herself from laughing out loud.

"I've gotten the feeling I've mellowed Mirage as well," Alicia smiled.

"Oh, you have," Hound rumbled softly. "You've helped awaken ... maternal instincts, which I'm still shocked were in there."

"Ah, that was me and Mama Guadalupe Tonatzin. She could awaken maternal instincts in anyone, even that mech with all the huge cannons," Alicia grinned.

Ratchet worked quickly, and then conducted a deep scan of Mirage's systems to be sure everything was integrated properly. He couldn't help but laugh privately at that thought. It wasn't even that far off the truth. Whoever Ironhide ended up with, it would be Hide that carried.

"Ironhide?" Mikaela raised an elegant eyebrow. "That's quite a stretch. I can see him a great protector-father, but a mother?"

"If what we know is correct, Ironhide would be the carrier," Hound grinned at the pair. "He's bigger and has heavier armor than almost anyone in the army."

"Who knows," Alicia added. "Your Ratchet might even end up as a mamasita...even more of a mother-hen than he already is."

"I heard that, and should I ever carry, I can guarantee that I will not be a 'little mother', nor am I in any manner related to a chicken, though I'd take some wagers on Starscream having that bloodline. Now get out of my medbay before I revert to my less mellow side and start welding afts to various pieces of equipment. You two have a socket to claim and I have one to keep satisfied, which is a full time job."

Hound's engine revved hard and deep and he scooped up Alicia with one arm, cradling her easily against his grill as he extended his other hand to his bonded, who accepted it as if they were in a formal dance at the Towers.

"Indeed," Mirage actually purred, his engine revving far faster and higher than Hounds, and no less excited.

Alicia waved goodbye to Ratchet and Mikaela, feeling like 16-year-old girl again on her quineanera (only about a thousand times more excited), a wide smile on her face. "No more waiting, lovers? Don't want to give it that arbitrary vorn or two just to make sure you really want me?"

"No, no more waiting," Mirage said, a light tremble in his voice betraying his excitement. "You've even convinced _Ratchet_ to stop glaring at me about it."

"Which is quite the accomplishment," Hound rumbled, a few cables from his wrist already caressing her as they made their best time across the base.

Alicia was not surprised when a second cable joined the one with connecting her to Hound and she got a personal taste of just how excited Mirage was to get on with claiming her.

~I have a feeling Ratchet is going to be downright doting on the two of you with that new spark. As grumpy as he has been about the whole notion, Mikaela thinks it may very well bring out the well hidden soft-spark in him.~ Alicia noted even while caressing both of them with her own nervous and delicious anticipation.

~I suspect the odds of surviving is what has him tied into knots more than anything,~ Hound murmured, caressing both their minds when Mirage couldn't hide the jolt of fear at the reminder. ~He's used to being in far more control than that.~

~All of those odds were calculated at a time before your kind had sockets. Maybe it is incredibly arrogant, but I believe I'll make a difference in those odds.~

~I hope you're right,~ Mirage sounded less than convinced as they entered the officer's barracks. ~I'd feel better if Ratchet or Jazz knew why, or even how, the carrier's spark can fail. We'd have a much better idea of how much an advantage the socket is.~

~A wise sage once said that no one can add a day to their lives by worrying, Espejismo. But I _do_ know something that can add days to your sparks, that keeps me feeling awfully young as well, and is certainly just what that old mother hen medic ordered for your bonded and sparkling.~

~Once more wisdom from the human world,~ Hound chuckled affectionately while Mirage made a real effort to push his worry away.

~Wisdom nearly every race has agreed on,~ Mirage agreed as he opened the door to their quarters. ~It is good to have my armor back, and even better that I am healthy enough to claim you ... and create a sparkling,~ he focused on the sense of awe at the accomplishment in creating a new life.

The first thing she heard going into their quarters was Simba yowling from her private room. "¡Cállate gatito! Mama is a busy pet right now."

~So let me guess ... the bath?~ she asked, grinning as Mirage's engine revved sharply at the thought of having her in the bath again, to claim her. He wanted that very, very much right now.

~Are you sure you shouldn't see to his needs?~ Hound asked with a glance towards the closed door to her hastily constructed private room, or more like a hastily constructed human-style room to keep her pet in while it didn't have run of the quarters.

~You've never had a Siamese before, Hound. He is just talking. I swear it sounds like multiple syllables to me. He doesn't _like_ being confined and wants some time on my lap, and if the two of you would rather wait so I can snuggle my kitty for 30 minutes and possibly get cat hair all over me... ~

~Will it make him be quiet?~ Mirage asked, seriously considering the tradeoff. ~Or will letting him out of his room work?~

~Letting him out will definitely quiet him down. He _really_ likes your big sofa and will happily sleep there, and watching him get up is hilarious. You have no idea how much time I put into getting the fur off it the morning Ratchet let you go. But love ... I _don't_ want him to bother you. I know how you feel about fur. I can go and try to get him settled down if you wish.~

A wash of pure affection caressed her from both mechs, but it was nearly intense enough from Mirage to make her cry.

~I've been coping with Hound's pets since I let him move in,~ Mirage reached out to stroke her face. ~Your Simba is frightfully small, but I'll grant him no fewer rights than I do to Hound's strays. Let him out and settle him down. We will be waiting for you in the tub.~

Alicia's burst of love and gratitude in return was nearly as intense.

~Thank you, love. It will make him so much happier. I can hardly wait a moment longer for you, but it is only right to settle him down.~

She was set gently on the floor, the cable detached. She stood still for a moment, simply admiring her lovers as the walked without her into the bathing room. It felt strange, as always now, to be simply alone in her thoughts. She opened the enclosure and let Simba out, sitting with him on the furniture her mechs had provided for her that was her own size, stroking him and quieting him down, his loud purr soothing her as it always had.

It struck her that she was about to be claimed, to have her genetic code and very basic energy changed by a lover who _said_ that he saw her little differently the she saw her own cat. And her own love and devotion to both Hound and Mirage was larger than anything she ever could have imagined herself capable of. She was surprised to find tears in her eyes that were a mixture of joy and pain. There was nothing she wanted more than to give herself to the two of them, to be connected even closer than she already was, to care for their sparks and any new sparks they created. She knew without a doubt that she would die for either one. Yet none of that changed that there were moments when it _hurt_ to be loved as much as Mirage was _capable of loving an organic._ Yet that love felt very true to her.

Simba had fallen asleep on her lap. She gently picked him up and put him on the cushion next to her, and wiped her tears. It was worth it, so very worth it. The bad and painful along with the good. She took off her clothes and hung them up and then walked through the door to where her giant lovers waited for her.

Being greeted by the sight of her mechs in the steaming water, Mirage lying on top of Hound as they made out with a near feverish intensity wasn't exactly a surprise.

Alicia walked to the edge of the pool closest to their heads and sat, simply admiring them and waiting for them to notice her. A cable snaked over from Hound to caress up her body before plugging into her socket, making her intimately aware of just how much they aroused each other and how eager they were to include her in their lives permanently.

~I never really imagined my wedding day would be with two gigantic, practically immortal mechs in a swimming pool, but I wouldn't have it any other way.~

She hesitated for a moment, then slipped into the water to watch her lovers kiss up close.

~I expect you never imagined your wedding day would turn you into something far more than human,~ Mirage extended his hand to draw her closer. ~Who do you want first?~

~Hmmm ... does it have to be one at a time? Not that I'd complain about getting to go twice,~ Alicia replied with a wicked grin.

~We can work up to both at once,~ Hound chuckled. ~But for this, it would be best to go one at a time.~

~Then my noble Espejismo. It has been _far_ too long since I've had your spike in me.~

Mirage rumbled and rolled over to use his bonded as a berth so she would have completely access to his frame. ~Then my lovely lady, you shall have me first.~

~And maybe I'll have him while you're at it,~ Hound added with a throaty rev of his engine.

~Now _that_ sounds like a splendid idea.~

Alicia purred

All the anticipation of the day had left Alicia already slick and very ready. Yet she didn't want to rush things, though she knew very well that Mirage was likely to be in quite a hurry. She climbed upon his chest and kissed the seam above his spark.

A low moan and rumble greeted the action, along with a flare of arousal at the intimate action. She felt him send the command to retract his interface panel and release his spike.

She moved down and began to lavish attention on his newly reintegrated spike with her hands, lips and tongue, gasping when warm, smooth cables of the same sensuous living metal traveled up her thighs toward her sex.

Mirage was already trembling in anticipation, and she could feel through the connection to them that Hound was caressing his sides and teasing the seam over his spark with a single claw.

~Your pace, my Alicia,~ Mirage murmured as a particularly strong shiver traveled down his frame.

With her own arousal combining in perfect harmony with that of her lovers, Alicia knew that going slow was not going to be an option. Giving his spike one last sensuous kiss, she moved to position herself, opening her thighs wide as she knelt over his elegant frame, her hands supporting herself on his abdominal plates, and his own cables helping to support her trembling body. The tip of his spike was poised just at her slick entrance, so ready for him.

~Claim me, my Espejismo. Make me yours.~

Mirage looked down at her with brightly glowing golden-white optics, his lips parted as he dragged air into his already hot systems.

~Ride me to overload,~ he instructed, thought-images of the nanites who would do the claiming being thick in his transfluid. ~I won't last long.~

Alicia watched his beautiful, perfect face as she slowly slid herself onto him, completely sheathing him and stopping. She squeezed him with her own sex and ground her clit against his plates, reveling in the fullness and the heat radiating off of him and the soon-to-explode ecstasy he fed back to her. Her own body felt like a taut bowstring, just waiting to be released, while in her mind the thought image of his spark took over any consciousness, as though it were reaching out to possess her. Urged on by its hunger for her, she began to move.

He moaned deeply, his optics shuttering briefly before he focused on watching the erotic sight of her slowly moving up and down his spike. Mirage's vents hitched and his hips thrust up, as entranced by her movements as by the hands of his bonded on his hip and across his chest. His peak was so close, he could feel the nanites swarming, as eager as he was to claim her, to do what they existed to do.

Without thinking about it, he reached out to draw her more fully into his awareness, sharing with her as fully as she was capable of. She suddenly found herself literally engulfed by him, surrounded by emotions, desires, confidence, and a wisdom and keen intelligence that was at once so familiar to her, and yet, as he drew her in, far more alien than she had ever imagined. She glimpsed the conflicts he faced between his towers programming and upbringing and all of the changes he had made to successfully become the valued spy he was. The depth of his grief at being possibly the last living towers creation, and yet great joy of his spark in what he had found bonded to Hound and working under Jazz. He had become something wholly different from what he had been built and created to be, and she perceived the cost to him, as well as his own willingness to pay that price, even when he wasn't completely at peace with it.

She felt the strength of his desire to claim her, for her cells and energy to be shaped by him and his bonded, to belong to them, not as a possession but rather as something she could not quite grasp or understand that she knew was adored and completely valued. Utterly exposed to him, she could not help but to share the mixture of fear, grief, desire, joy and acceptance she had felt in the moments she held Simba before walking through the door.

Mirage stroked her mind and body as she continued to ride him, accepting her fear and grief without issue and sharing a tiny bit of what he'd felt before he'd finally gone through with the spark-bond with Hound. Not just fear ... he'd been utterly terrified of so many things involved ... and grief ... it meant accepting that not just the Towers but it's entire culture was gone ... but his struggles with being an equal partner when all he'd been programmed and raised to be was as a submissive, near silent one; a trophy mate in the truest sense of the term.

She welcomed and embraced his memories, finding comfort in them, as well as no small amount of irony as a woman who had been raised to speak her mind, view herself as an equal and never simply be an accessory to someone's machismo. And yet she was willingly entering a bond with two whom she could never view herself as equal with, but also whom she could not help but to love, trust completely, and be devoted to.

And all through this, their desire climbed higher and higher until at once she burst in sweet release even as she begged him, ~claim me.~

He fought the desire to grab Hound's hands and throw his head back as he overloaded, instead he shuddered and locked his optics on her, his hands and cables still caressing and supporting her as the electrical charge began to unfurl uncontrolled across his systems. The first spurt of claiming-nanite laden transfluid exploded into her body and rushed to begin its work.

Of all the exquisite climaxes Alicia had known since meeting the two mechs, nothing compared to the rush that suddenly went through her body, the awareness of being _changed_, being brought so much closer to the sparks she was devoted to. Her climax was not only physical and emotional, it was spiritual on a quantum level where energy and particles and spirit came together.

She was overwhelmed by the _rightness_ of it all, of being where she was meant to be, with the one she was meant to be with, devoting her life to something so much larger than herself ... even larger than the two that she loved. She was devoted to the continuation of life and a new beginning for these amazing beings who had been at war for so long to protect her kind from nearly endless torture and her world from destruction.

Alicia found her external senses again, her body still awash in pleasure, her mind wrapped around and wrapped within Mirage's before he slowly disentangled them, leaving her with a sense that she'd crossed further into his affections and held more of his secrets than any socket before her.

"My Espejismo," she quietly said aloud, as though simply saying his name would say everything else that was in her soul. _I love you. I belong to you. I accept everything that you are._

"My Alicia," he smiled as he caressed her back with newly re-armored fingers and reluctantly encouraged her pull off his spike. "Time to become _our_ Alicia."

Alicia shook herself out of her stupor and came more fully back to herself, enjoying the erotic feel of Mirage's thick fluid running down her thighs as she separated herself. "Yes, I very much would like to become _our_ Alicia now." She smiled at her quiet, gentle, larger lover who grinned back at her from where he held his bonded from underneath.

Hound sank deeper into the water, giving space for Mirage to move off him without forcing Alicia out of the warm, welcoming liquid. Almost before she knew it, she was seated on Hound's grill and Mirage had left the connection so all her energy would feed the new spark trying to grow strong despite everything that was stacked against it.

Alicia found her memories returning to the very first time Hound had pleasured her, before he was able to receive anything back from it other than the satisfaction of a job well done. She remembered how fascinated she had been, how in awe of what she had witnessed between him and Mirage, and even her amusement at Mirage's testiness about the whole encounter.

~Thanks for choosing me.~

~Thank you for choosing us,~ he responded with a warm smile and tight, caressing fingers and cables. ~For understanding my Mirage.~

~I could never have chosen differently. I am where I belong.~

It felt so wonderful and safe to be surrounded by his hands as his fingers caressed her, one pushing up between her legs for her to shameless grind herself on.

~I want to make love with you, Hound. I want to nourish your spark and that beautiful new one.~

She felt how happy it made him, and a very tiny pulse of pleasure that could have been her imagination, or the new spark reaching out. Without a word Hound carried her down his body, eager to sink inside her and mark her as his as well as his bonded's.

With his hands and cables encouraging her along, she positioned herself with the tip of his spike at her slick, warm entrance. He gave what for his frame was a small thrust, but for Alicia, a full, deep, desperately desired invasion.

They moaned in unison, the pleasure spiraling out to grab the other eagerly as she worked her body and he thrust into her welcoming, clenching depths.

~Primus you feel good,~ Hound gasped across the connection. ~Even just claimed by Raj it's better.~

She could feel it as well. How it could _possibly_ be better was hard to imagine, but it simply was. She could _feel_ what Hound felt more clearly, as though he had come into focus. Each thrust sent a thrill up her spine right to where her heart chakra would be, and suddenly she could see in her mind that there was energy at each of those mysterious points she had always thought to be myth. They each burned bright and were throbbing in time with Hounds spark and the tiny one that rested next to it.

~Am I imagining that?~ She thought while her moans echoed through the chamber.

~No,~ he brushed against her, adding a little direct pleasure to the physical rush taking hold of them both. ~It's part of what claiming can do. The awareness of yourself, expanded because of what we perceive.~

~Ah Mama Maria!~ she exclaimed as the chakras she could now so clearly perceive pulsed extra bright at the same moment that Hound sent her another pulse of pleasure that ran through every nerve in her body. Her orgasm slammed into her and Hound as a brilliant wave of pure light that flooded his spark and the tiny one nestled by it.

Despite the intensity, she could feel and see the majority of the energy being shunted almost directly to the smaller spark, which began to pulse more quickly and grew just a tiny bit larger and brighter before settling down. She also understood, this time, that her perception of the tiny spark was completely by way of Hound. It was too small, too new, to reach out to anyone but it's carrier.

Even as she watched the tiny spark through Hound, his overload hit and she rode his ecstasy and experienced from his perceptions the blissful release and joy as his nanite filled fluid rushed into her to continue and compliment the changes already begun by Mirage, binding her to her lovers more closely than she ever would have imagined.


	55. Hunting Pleasure 20:  Lingering Question

**Writers: **gatekat and femme4jack on LJ  
**Fandom: **Transformers Bayverse (SoG'verse of POV'verse)  
**Pairing: **Prowl/Jazz/Miles Lancaster  
**Rating: **NC-17 for mech/male  
**Codes: **Slash, Xeno (Transformer/Human), Sticky  
**Summary: **With things settling down, Miles gets some time alone with Jazz.  
**Notes:** Written in the Dathanna de Gray fanverse (community .livejournal .com/ tf_socket_fics)  
"text" organic language  
**"text"** translated Cybertronian.  
~text~ bond/cable talk  
::comm chatter:

* * *

****

Hunting Pleasure 20: Lingering Questions

* * *

Two weeks of absolute insanity was all Miles could say of events since his return from the Nemesis. The hell of Prime's orders and trying to get Miles to turn on his mechs. Jazz having to spend so much time in medbay with Mirage and the way the silver mech needed comforting when he did make it back to his quarters, comforting for things he couldn't share. The stress on base when one of their more cheerful mechs, Hound, was so distressed for so long. Some kind of massive fight between Ratchet and the Twins, and between Ironhide and ... well, Miles wasn't entirely sure _who_ the old mech was pissed at, but he definitely was.

Then there was the _big_ event, the arrival of a cadre of mechs that no one was expecting. Important mechs, from what he'd gathered. A brother of the Twins, Ironhide's mate, a Seeker and organics that were something else to watch.

Though, thinking about it, Hound's condition might actually trump it all, and he was sure Jazz was privately seething about it.

It was a crazy couple of weeks even by NEST standards.

Miles was escaping the insanity at the moment, sacked out on the mech sized sofa, watching Armageddon on the mech sized entertainment center, glad for some time to relax, hoping that one of his dudes might get home before he crashed, though if it were after, he'd force himself awake. After everything on the Nemesis and after, he was still on the needy side when it came to physical and emotional attention, not to mention that they were _still_ finding the early claim phase was being rudely interrupted by life.

~Wish and ya shall receive,~ Jazz's awareness brushed against his own with a cheerful bent. ~I'm _finally_ free for a few joor.~

~Oh hallefuckinglujah! I was beginning to feel like your roommate. Did you know that Mikaela looks a bit like Liv Tyler, at least when she was in Armageddon? Except I think Mik is hotter. You'd better do me, man. I'm starting to think about girls.~

Jazz howled in laughter across their still-fledgling bond. ~Anytime, anywhere, anywhy,~ he sang as the door opened so he could saunter in. "Think ya can hold out too the berth, or do I need ta ravage ya right there?"

"Oh, ravage me here, and see if you can distract me from Liv Tyler. She is looking damn hot, but then again, so is Billy Bob Thornton, Ben Affleck, _and_ Bruce Willis."

"Oh my, we _have_ been neglecting ya," Jazz made an apologetic face as he leaned over the back of the couch to use cables and fingers to extract Miles from his clothing. "Ya know, socket society was much easier when ya don't wear clothin'."

"Don't I know it, on both accounts," Miles grinned up at his lover, "If Billy Bob is looking good, I definitely need some attention, and I would love it if everyone walked around naked, especially Sarah, Will, and Mik. Oh, Alicia, too. And Ma-le, at least what you showed me of her. Epps, too. And most of the other former Rangers. They are all mighty fine. Give it a few generations, and you might wean us of our clothing. No reason I need to wear anything in our quarters...except the occasional french maid costume."

"I think ya need ta get used ta walkin' round with nothing between ya and being ravaged by any passin' mech," Jazz rumbled, sliding over the back of the couch to pin his socket playfully under him. With a light, teasing kiss he purred "Now why don't we watch some vids of what Prowler an I get upta when you're busy, ta help get those humans outa your brain?"

"Mmmmm ... humans? What humans. And random ravaging sounds good," he added, reaching out to caress Jazz's sensory horn.

"Good," Jazz hummed in approval as the screen and audio changed to Prowl's resonate moans as Jazz had him bent over his desk with fingers and glossa deep in the larger mech's sensor wings. He slipped his connector cable into Miles' socket and they both moaned in the exchange of pleasure. ~I'm sorry we've been gone so much. Sometimes our duties do this.~

~I know, dude.~ Miles focused on his deep affection for his mechs, caressing Jazz's mind even as he nipped at the giving metal of his much larger bottom lip. ~Knew that when you claimed me. I self entertain. You just entertain a hell of a lot better. And you really need to teach me how to properly do Prowler's sensor wings.~

~Oh, very much,~ Jazz shivered in anticipation for the idea and kissed her socket eagerly before he trailed his glossa down Miles' chest. ~Those nimble fingers of yours will draw the most amazing sounds from him. I could probably overload just listening and watching. He's so beautiful in overload.~

"Oh!" the blond socket gasped aloud as silver glossa flicked his nipple with a tingle of electricity. ~Tell me about it. You both are...when I'm not already passed out and get to see and feel you overload.~

The intricate sensor fins were in reach, so Miles began to squeeze and massage one with his hands and probe the other with his tongue.

Jazz hummed deeply, sharing the pleasure with Miles softly, just enough to let the human know it felt _good_, but not enough to actually stimulate his pleasure centers. ~Maybe I'll drag him out of his office, give you the first lesson tonight.~

~You can give me any lessons you want, any time. I want to learn both of your secrets, and I _love_ taking orders, babe.~

Miles ran his hands down Jazz's neck, looking for armor gaps to molest with his relatively tiny fingers. He even managed to keep it up when that devastating silver glossa and mouth found his cock and swirled around the spongy head. Cables slid along his balls and a slick one teased his ass.

"Jazz," Miles managed to gasp aloud, as the mech gave an affirmative, vibrating hum around his cock. "I really fucking love you, dude."

~I can feel it,~ Jazz purred against his mind, still holding back a _lot_, but showing Miles more of how he felt as he worked to bring his socket to overload with just his mouth.

The young socket began to writhe, trying to pump into the silver mech's mouth, only to have his hips held firmly down as Jazz slowly and patiently worked him.

~Please!~ Miles groaned through their bond.

~As you command,~ Jazz whispered seductively and let his grip on Miles' hips go, turning his hands and cables to sliding along Miles' body as a spiral of three gently pressed into his ass.

The cables seemed to twirl inside of him, gently massaging the inside of his hole, stretching him in three directions. He grabbed onto the Jazz's fins and starting pump into the mech's mouth in earnest.

Miles suddenly became aware of both amusement and frustration from Prowl, whom he somehow knew was stuck in a meeting that was not likely to end soon.

~Poor mech. We'll just have to encourage him to get done as fast as he can.~ Miles briefly thought even as he began gasping for breath, his hands gripping tighter.

Jazz hummed more deeply, welcoming the pleasure and that flowed into his spark. It didn't matter that he'd never needed it, would never need it as long as he took a spark every few thousand vorns. It felt _good_. It felt even better knowing what it did for his bonded. There was nothing ... _nothing_ ... like the pleasure of feeling _life_ flow into the spark that was the center of his universe, to know that he had a few more vorns with him before his spark began to weaken again.

Right now, though, he wanted to get Miles off so they could focus on the questions the human didn't know how loudly he was broadcasting.

~Let me feel it ... please ... shield it, but don't hold back.~ Miles was addicted to the feel of his lovers' sparks as they drank up what his body, mind and soul gave to them. There was nothing else like it, not even the mind blowing orgasms they gave. Jazz's spark was fire that consumed but did not burn, and it felt so fucking amazing to _be_ the one being consumed by that overwhelming will. Prowl's was gentler, less overwhelming in intensity, but even more hungry. In his strange fantasies, he found himself sandwiched between those two sparks, somehow consumed, but made whole at the same time. To really touch those stars would kill him, but that didn't keep him from wishing he could.

Yes, he was a junkie. He would do this even if it killed him. But instead, it left him with even more to give.

In a wordless reply, Jazz opened up as much as he dared. Deep down, he knew he'd do nearly anything this tiny, fragile creature bid. It wasn't something he was ready to admit, not even to himself, but he did know it.

It was all it took. One blast of that will and the way that indomitable spark felt and Miles was screaming words that made no sense as his pleasure went to critical mass and exploded into his lover even as Jazz milked ever last drop from his jerking cock.

Still humming, Jazz cleaned his sated socket gently, taking some care not to arouse him again. "So ... am I forgiven so many long meetings?"

"Mmmhmm" Miles purred, feeling like a kitty being groomed as he was cleaned off. "You manage to make that feel different every single time...which shouldn't surprise me given how long you've been alive. I'm so fucking lucky, dude." He reached down and caressed Jazz's sensor horn affectionately.

"How long have you been alive, anyhow, dude? I know it will blow my mind, but tell me anyhow."

Jazz chuckled into his purr as he finished cleaning his relaxed socket. "Even _I'm_ not entirely sure how many vorns I've witnessed. Best guess, older than your universe. Maybe sixteen billion years. Maybe longer."

Miles gave an unmanly giggle. "Sixteen billion years, and you still manage to make this puny mortal feel like he is the center of the fucking universe...wait...before my universe? You mean you aren't from _this_ universe? How did I miss that one?"

"Yeah, we aren't from this universe ... this dimension," Jazz nodded. "As far as I know, I'm the only one left from where we came from. Everything was mechanical there, no organics at all," he explained and lazily shifted back so he was lying on back against the arm of the couch, and pulled Miles up to sprawl across his chest. Miles felt him heat his armor just enough to make him really relaxed and comfy. The blond socket gave a cheesy grin and pulled himself up so he could give the mech a peck on his faceplates, amazed, as always, that somehow the armor was comfortable against his naked skin.

He idly thought that it was nice to finally have a chance to just cuddle and talk with his mech who was always on the move. He usually only got a chance for cuddling when Jazz happened to recharge at the same time that he slept. Prowl was working in their quarters more frequently, which was nice because the mechs, by the necessity of their jobs, did not always have a recharge pattern that matched up with Miles' sleep. He usually could sack out for the night on Prowl's lap while he worked, and often did so.

"Makes sense," Miles said, accepting it completely. So little weirded him out. He accepted that Jazz was the oldest of his kind and from a different universe as easily as he welcomed everything else about the dudes he loved. "So oldest and sexiest, or at least close tie with Prowl. Have you always looked like this, or did you have to...I don't...like replace your frame once every billion years when its warranty expired? Didn't you say something the other day about originally being bigger?"

Jazz chuckled softly, the rumble of amusement vibrating up from his chassis and through Miles.

"My appearance has changed over the vorns, though I expect even Prima would recognize me after a long look. We'd only just begun to wear decorative plates over our protoforms as a regular thing when she extinguished. No, we don't replace our frames, but parts are replaced as needed. I hold stronger 'larger mech' programming because this size _was_ a large mech back then. I was only a few fingers shorter than Prima at her coronation. Now I'm not even crotch-height to a Prime."

"Why do I get the feeling that others enjoy having you at crotch height, my mech? And that you enjoy being there as well? I know I'd enjoy being just about crotch height on you. Fucking height difference." Miles grinned.

"Oh, many of them do," Jazz snickered. "It's amazing how many mechs have a minibot fetish. You know what Prowl did in the hall? I can't even count how many times in the last few generations I've had that done. It's never hotter than when he does though," he shivered in memories. "But nothing is as hot as what Prowl does to me."

"That was so hot I'm surprised I didn't turn into a little cinder," Miles laughed, "and damn if I don't fantasize about being against that wall myself about once every 30 seconds or so. But don't you ever get bored of 'facing after that many billion years?"

"Oh, at times," he laughed as well. "But you know what happens when I get board."

"Hmmm...sort of tempted to have you _show_ me what happens when you get bored, dude, 'cept it is so nice just to cuddle for once," Miles smirked, giving the silver mech another light kiss on one of his lip plates. "I hope you'll teach me how to not bore you, dude. I'm a pretty simple creature. I'm sure I can become predictable too damn fast," he added as an after thought, snuggling in.

"I don't think ya can bore meh any more than mah Prowler," Jazz rumbled, stroking his socket's back. "Some things never get old."

Miles pushed himself up to look at Jazz's visor, even reaching out to tentatively trace the top of it.

"Why?" He finally asked. Unspoken but obvious was _Why am I the one you care so much about? Why not the sockets who came before me?_

He got the distinct impression that Jazz looked away from him, even though he couldn't see the mech's optics.

"Ya know I died, right? At Mission City."

Miles nodded his head, not wanting to say a thing that would discourage Jazz from opening up to him.

"I got kinda a nasty surprise," he murmured, his processors going elsewhere very quickly so he didn't have to fully process what he was saying. "We've known a long time that sparks return to Primus, return to where they came from, when they extinguish from a frame. I knew from before I was born that I'd go to where mah spark came from too. Primus hijacked me, before I got there. Tore out, replaced part of mah spark, sent meh back ta mah frame," he closed his optics, not that it was visible. "That's why I'm different now."

Miles found his thoughts racing with ideas and questions about what the mech had said. Not the least of which was where Jazz thought his spark should have gone, but also that the mech he had fallen in love with was this Jazz, who had come back from whatever Primus did to him. That mech who came back was also the mech that loved him even though he wouldn't ... or couldn't ... say the words, and for Jazz, being changed so he'd care wasn't a very happy thing. There were some things Miles wasn't sure he was ready to know.

He finally settled on one question that wouldn't leave him alone, still delicately tracing the contours of the mech's intricate facial structure. "If you had ended up where you thought you should've, would you have been able to come back to Prowl?"

"No," he murmured, a mixture of regret and wistfulness in the single word.

Miles again looked into that visor, wondering for the umpteenth time what was underneath. He didn't want to see Jazz slip back into the dark place he had been so much since the socket had been returned from the Nemesis.

"I'm so glad you came back. Can't imagine my life without you and Prowl," the youth quietly admitted, sliding his hand up the side of his lover's face to once again caress the sensory fins he now had an official fetish for. "Speaking of Prowl, how are your plans shaping for getting yourself knocked up, babe?"

"Mmm, quite nicely," Jazz purred, welcoming the distraction. "Even though Ratchet wants me on that weird energon concoction for another two weeks, I don't need to wait. I just need to get Prowl away from work long enough to recharge fully and top off his tanks. The trick is still going to be getting him to agree, but I'll manage."

"How can I help, dude? I mean, the pole dance strip to protoform tease sounds is all kinds of awesome when I imagine it in my head, because I thinking making babies should be fun and sexy and all, but your little energizer bunny wants to help out, with the convincing and the deed if you'll let me."

"Oh with the deed you are definitely part of the game. With the convincing ... he knows I'll push this," he purred with only the slightest trace of regret that Prowl wasn't as eager as he was. "If you want a crack at convincing that logic center of his that now's a good time, I'm all for it."

"I'll do my best, boss. I can be pretty convincing with him." Miles smirked, looking forward to the challenge. Carrying a spark would make Jazz very happy, and Miles wanted to see his mech happy with all the dark places his processors had been in. He thought Prowl was likely to agree with the sentiment.

"I want to run an idea past you," Miles changed the topic. " I think we need a party. Something big. What do you think about celebrating the anniversary of Mission City, now that you are alive, as well as a celebration for everyone carrying new sparks, which will hopefully be you by that time."

Jazz's visor lit up with a heady rev of his engine. "I _like_ how you think," he purred deeply. "You know how much I love a good party, and we really do have a lot to celebrate. Between everyone who's alive now, seven sparklings already on the way, more soon ... I'm not the only one trying ... all the old friends who have made it to Earth or we know are on their way, so many organics that are happy sockets. There was a time when claiming a socket was a time for friends to celebrate. Oh yeah, that sounds like a _plan_."

"So what _is_ your idea of a good party, dude? How crazy can we get?" Miles was relieved to see Jazz enthusiastic again, especially about something that involved his being around others, many of whom he'd been rather at odds with recently.

"Music, high grade, dancing ... maybe costumes. And decorations, we need decorations. And high grade. Several kinds. Sides is good for that. Maybe even talk Raj and Tracks into doing a Tower dance or two for us," he shivered in excitement at the idea. "That will just blow you away, especially Raj, since he's actually trained. Lots of space. If we have time, maybe Skyfire and Perceptor can produce some special club lights that show off all our markings. Oh, we haven't have a proper festival in _ages_."

"Dude, that sounds like _so_ much fun. We'll need booze, too, and karaoke, and twister. We need to play twister."

Jazz looked it up and burst out laughing. "Strip twister, with a twist. Spikes, valve, mouth ... mmmm, I think I haven't had enough Prowl lately."

Miles snickered, "Oh, you and me both. Hell, we could just play strip twister in here. Yet another good way to get both of you in protoform."

"If we're in here, I'd rather play strip karaoke," Jazz purred with a deep rev of his engine and a sudden spike of 'paying attention' across the bond from Prowl. "He has such a lovely voice. Oh, what that voice does to me."

"Why haven't I heard either of you sing before, dude? I mean...not like we've had a lot of time, but still." Miles playfully reached out across the young bond toward Prowl with tantalizing images of he and Jazz playing strip twister. He got a strong sense of frustration at the length of the meeting in return.

"Prowl doesn't like being the center of attention, and singing puts him there," Jazz murmured, stroking Miles' back with clawed fingers. "It usually takes at least two cubes of high grade to get him to. Now _me_, ya just havta ask. Or give me a party."

"Oh, I'm gonna ask, dude. But before I do, you know what you've never told me? What exactly it was you did up there to the Nemesis. Seems like we always get interrupted just before we get to it." Miles grinned, before starting to trace the armor seams underneath him, in his own unconscious interruption attempt.

"Mmm, planted viruses, did some demolition, bugs and tracer programs, checked on Screamer ... the usual stuff, except for you," he murmured, his uneasiness about the last part evident across their bond.

Prowl's awareness was there just as fast, soothing his bonded with the full strength of his belief that he'd done the right thing no matter what his programming said about breaking mission mode.

Miles knew better than to pursue that topic. He was thankful and believed Jazz had done the right thing, and that to have expected anything else of him was cruel. But they had been through that already, so he asked what he really wanted to know. "So what about that little STD you loaded me up with. What does that one do?"

Jazz relaxed as the question moved away from the actions he found disturbing. "Basically it'll zap them if they pick up an unwilling socket. Not enough to knock off line, but it'll hurt like the pit for a nanoklik. Every time it's activated, it adds code that punishes the mech more harshly for the next offense. In theory, it could kill, but I doubt many would let it go that far. They've got a couple mechs that can stop it, eventually. Though for most it'll propagate again even if cleaned out. Core kernel virals are like that."

"Only if they try to plug in? Or if they try to take an organic for anything, like harvesting for the generators?" Miles asked, hoping it was the later.

"For anything, but only those with sockets," Jazz explained. "These," he tapped Miles' socket with a cable, "are what let the programming know whether you're willing or not. I pushed the parameters as far as Prime'd let me." His optic ban dimmed. "I'd have pushed it further if he wasn't threatening to take you from me."

Miles reacted to the last statement with a nearly vocalized whimper, putting his arms around his mech's neck. He was still feeling way too insecure about that part. "I still haven't forgiven him for that, and I'm a forgiving dude."

He found himself wrapped in two silver hands and many cables, his own fears and anger echoed on the other end of the bond with Jazz.

"We still haven't gotten our proper bonding time with you," Jazz muttered before forcing himself to back away from that line of thought. "I know we both warned you it could be lonely some years, that there were dangers in being so close to us. I never thought it would turn out like this, with the greatest threat being from our own ranks." He paused and nuzzled Miles. "I'm sorry for that."

"I know, dude. I'll be ok...we will be. It hasn't been easy, but things that are worth it rarely are, right? And it all only made me love both of you more. You know...all that shit about trials and tribulations making you stronger and stuff."

He sighed and felt his body relax into the security of those ancient and beautiful hands.

"We need to convince Prowler to finish that meeting. I haven't been with both of you at the same time since the day after I got back. I want to see you _together_, be together with you."

"He's coming," Jazz whispered with gentle strokes. "Arousal he won't leave his duty for, but both of us distressed ... we don't have meetings that critical anymore."

"He left his duty for arousal that day in the hallway," Miles snickered, trying to lighten the mood. He found he didn't feel at all guilty that Prowl was coming. The three of them _deserved_ some time together and had hardly had any.

"Mmm, yes," Jazz growled under him, his engine revving hard as his plating quickly heated. "Such a sweet performance. It's so rare for him to cut loose like that, to forget everything and everyone but claiming me. It felt so good with you there, a part of that need." He turned his optic band off and shivered, his vents already working hard. "My beautiful mech being so strong, feeling his spark flare from your pleasure."

"I can think of a few things," Prowl rumbled and put his databad down on a small table by the door as he stalked into the room. "If the Cons cause trouble in the next decacycle, I am personally authorizing your brand of retaliatory strike."

Jazz grinned, that look that sent mechs and men scrambling for their lives. There was pure malice behind it, yet across the bonds, to the two individuals who were closest to him, it was comfort, protection, the savagery of a mother defending her young.

Miles smiled brightly at Prowl. "So, Jazz, how about giving your pet human a lesson about sensor wings, and what my little fingers are capable of, huh?"

"I believe Jazz needs a little attention first," Prowl actually growled as he knelt on the couch and leaned over his bonded and socket, his optic flashing as he grabbed Jazz's pedes and brought them up. "My frame is yours when my bonded has settled."

Miles lifted up his hair in the back with a desperate look and was rewarded by Prowl plugging into his socket and Jazz plugging into the line a fraction of a second later. He did not want to miss feeling Prowl when he was rough, dominating and claiming. It was intoxicating.

~You're not going to get an argument from me with _that_ plan,~ Miles pointed out as Jazz mewed and shuddered under him.

Both panels clicked open and Prowl gave neither of them any warning as he thrust forward, hilting himself fully in the first move.

~Ohhh babe,~ Jazz moaned across the link, pressing into the contact as he dropped several firewalls.

~After you've overloaded a couple times,~ Prowl cut off the command to part Jazz's chest plates.

Miles deliberately closed his eyes, abandoning his own senses to simply _be_ Jazz, like the time he had plugged in while Jazz drove. He felt sensors roughly stimulated in his tight valve, felt the amazing bursts of shocking pleasure as the most highly tuned sensors were hit deep inside. He felt the desire to be completely claimed and dominated by his bonded ... a still-odd feeling, a possessiveness that was new to Prowl and highly needed and desired by Jazz.

Miles recognized in an instant flash of insight that it was because of the loss of their bond when Jazz had died, but forced his conscious thoughts back again as Prowl began a brutal rhythm of thrusts that would have killed an organic, but to a mech who liked it rough was _perfect_.

Ventilations and fans were already working hard as electricity bounced across systems, charging Jazz's chassis down to his protoform. It coalesced near his spark, fed off the pleasure from the organic against his neck and chin.

Prowl's thrusts came harder, knowing exactly how to rub against every millimeter of valve. He shifted, grabbing both of Jazz's wrists and pinning them against the arm of the couch, causing an intense burst of arousal-pleasure.

Even filtered to protect him, the pleasure bordered on overwhelming, and Miles literally forgot who he was. Instead he just _felt_. Felt the charge that was so ready to burst, the anticipation of the burst of a different kind that would come from the fragile organic and add to the feedback loop, the vibration of his bonded's demanding growls that were coming with each expert, jabbing thrust, the desire to let go, to give _everything_ to that white spark.

From the other side of the connection and bond came the thrill of being wanted that much, the desire to give everything to the amethyst spark under him. Not just of himself, but everything that Jazz could ever want. Pleasure, intense, electric and nearly painful, was building sharply in synch with his other half, anticipating the cries and the pleasure-energy that would come from the organic on this ride with them.

As the cascade of overload began, Miles was catapulted back into his own bodily sensations, hearing himself give a scream that would have sounded agonized if they all had not known better. He was three and he was one, and in another brief flash of insight, he saw how Jazz channeled the life energy that was pouring from his human soul into Prowl's spark. For Jazz, seeing Prowl's nourished, pulsing with vitality and life as overload cascaded within and between them was an even greater pleasure than when the saboteur nourished his own.

Miles had a second flash of insight that Jazz did not _need_ him for his own spark. He brought pleasure and companionship, yes, but the SIC did not need him in order to live. He was _different_. The mech cherished him because he was giving life to a spark that was more important than Jazz's own, a spark that could not last as long as many because it was placed in an adult, pre-programmed shell at its creation.

Even as his own orgasm ripped through him, Miles was conscious enough to know that the mechs had let him see more of themselves than he had ever seen before, and he was overwhelmed with love for them, and with a conscious effort cast that feeling through the cable toward their sparks.


	56. DDG All Stories A Mech Watching Party

**Writers: **gatekat and femme4jack on LJ  
**Fandom: **Transformers Bayverse  
**Pairing: **Jolt/Sarah Lennox, Jolt/Killblade, Ironhide/Chromia/Sarah Lennox/Will Lennox, Prowl/Jazz/Miles Lancaster, Mirage/Hound/Alicia Rodriguez, Ratchet/Mikaela Banes, Chromia/Bluestreak, Bumblebee/Bluestreak  
**Rating: **NC-17 for mech/female, mech/mech  
**Codes: **Slash, Het, Xeno (Transformer/human), Sticky, Spark-sex  
**Summary: **A party celebrating the first year where Jazz is there on the anniversary of Mission City and the sparklings that are coming is attended by all and gives Sarah a good night of bonded pair watching and mech courting.  
**Notes:** Written in the Dathanna de Gray fanverse (community .livejournal .com/ tf_socket_fics)  
"text" organic language  
**"text"** translated Cybertronian.  
~text~ bond/cable talk  
::comm chatter:

* * *

**Hunting Pleasure 21  
The Naturalists 13  
Frontliners 8  
Consent and Control 5  
Electric Blades 2:  
A Mech Watching Party  
**

* * *

A young man with longish blond hair covering his ears and halfway down his neck paused to wipe the sweat off of his brow as he hit the final stages of complete transformation of the rec hanger for the purposes of the biggest party the Autobots had thrown in ... well ... several thousand vorns might be a conservative estimate. He was sure Prowl would be able to tell him precisely, but right now his only concern was getting the final touches on the dance floor, karaoke stage, and the giant twister game he had insisted on.

Pretty much every organic, human and otherwise, that had free range of the base had helped at some point. Right now he had Wolfkat (still a little on the scary side), Lt Mubarak (oh _man_ what a hottie), about a dozen NEST officers he had to look up to name and a very helpful Killblade. Boy, for him, that had been the surprise of the year. A mech built like the Twins, one of their brothers, who was, well, _normal_. At least as normal as a sparked warrior could be at any rate. He was up there with Ironhide. Volatile, violent, but actually pretty easy going if you weren't a target.

The mechs and the large organic were hanging specialized lighting that would show off mechs' markings, and installing emitters for the barriers that would allow music to blare on the dance floor, but be heard only in the background in the rest of the rec room. Lt. Mubarak and several nest officers were putting final touches on the new flooring that could turn into any number of life-sized games. Miles himself was comm-ing and emailing through his socket making sure everything organics or mechs would need in terms of refreshments for a good party would arrive in time, especially the energon mixes he had ordered from Sideswipe.

::Kid, I _never_ miss a party and I _always_ bring the high grade,:: the silver warrior chided him, but there was no missing the good humor in his voice.

~Hay hot stuff, how's it going?~ Jazz brushed against their bond, and Miles could see in his head how his mech was likely bouncing up and down and buzzing with excitement as he worked on getting Prowl to come.

~Dude, I'm amazing.~ he snickered. ~You need any help with your project? Cause I think I'm just about caught up here.~

~What are the odds _any_ of us get to the party if the three of us are in his office?~ Jazz laughed brightly. ~He'll come. I know what I'm doing.~

~If that means I get to do you here, I'm ok with that, dude. See you in a bit, gorgeous. And you, too, sexy cop. I'll make it worth it for you, promise.~

~It is a miracle that I get any work done between you,~ Prowl sighed, clearly resigned to going, but just as clearly putting on a front.

~Gotta keep you from getting too efficient, dude. Otherwise the union might come after you for making everyone else look bad...~

"A little more to the left Killblade," Miles suddenly yelled, looking up. "That's right ... no ... I meant that's good...no left! Shit!"

~Gotta run dudes. Everyone here needs constant supervision.~

**"We've created a dictator the entire base loves,"** Jazz snickered against Prowl's sensor wing.

**"Yes, and now that I have agreed to join you, please go torment someone else for two joor so I can finish this orn's work,"** Prowl looked over his shoulder with a decidedly hopeful expression that usually got him his way once he'd agreed to whatever adventure Jazz was insisting on.

**"You promising ta be in our berth when ah wake up?"** Jazz purred, sliding a claw along the upper edge of one sensor wing. **"Ah'll make it worth it,"** he promised with a resonant rumble.

A core-deep shudder and matching rumble of Prowl's engine brought a smile to Jazz's face. He leaned forward to kiss his bonded softly but soundly. **"I'll be back in two joor,"** he promised.

* * *

"But you have to be visible, love! Jazz would be so disappointed, and this celebration is for you and Hound, among others. Besides, I'm going to accessorize you so beautifully. You just _have_ to be seen. You get to pick what I wear." Alicia teased from where she was seated on Hound's shoulder, both of them going through the ritual of convincing Mirage of something.

She knew Mirage's reluctance about this particular party was all for show. Being the center of attention because he had sired a sparkling was deeply appealing to him. He and Hound - and Alicia, too, without her realizing it - had the base in a buzz as the first grounders to create a new spark.

Hound got a playful look on his face and stepped inside his bonded's energy field, flickering his own to caress Mirage's until the noble moaned and arched into him. Only then did Hound pull him the rest of the way against his chassis and kissed him soundly.

"I know you don't want me out there alone, the subject of all those leers and attention, without you there to defend what's yours," the scout rumbled, causing Mirage to shudder in blatant desire.

"And I'd hate to have everyone looking at me. There is a rumor on base that I'm a mech fertility device," Alicia added, watching her lovers with a smile.

"If you are, you are _our_ fertility device," Mirage rumbled with a mixture of raw defensive protective possessiveness and desire. He slid his hands up Hound's chest and stretched up to kiss him soundly. "And _you_ are my bonded, carrying my sparkling. If you insist on going, you will not go without me."

"Oh good," she reached down and caressed a particularly sensitive spot on his helm, before bouncing up in down in uncharacteristically hyper excitement. "Do you want to choose my dress so I can go take a bath and make myself pretty while you give Hound a few of his recommended daily allowance of overloads?"

Golden optics glittered in approval and Mirage chuckled a bit as he reached up caress her. "All right my lovely. Let's see what you have that is both suitable and survivable given the kind of party that's likely to be thrown. Miffed or not, Jazz will be going all out."

With a chuckle and a bit of playful groping, Hound put Alicia on the floor by her closet, now brimming with expensive clothing of fine quality that Mirage insisted on for her (and she was not complaining about one bit). Mirage knelt down so he could pick as she palmed the plate that made the door slide open to a smoothly rotating mechanical rack. The _new_ dresses that she and Hound had ordered during Mirage's recovery were hidden in the back. There were many other new outfits as well, but they were well hidden in other parts of their quarters for future special surprises. She knew he would look at everything before he chose.

She saw it the moment he realized there were garments that he hadn't bought.

"You and Hound have been busy," he rumbled with open approval as he brought out the two fine dresses. One a shimmering royal purple and midnight blue gown of middle ages fantasy design, the other a paler creation of pastels and many shades of blue that took inspiration from anime queens.

He considered the pair critically, picturing in his processors what she would look like in each and how it would match or clash with what he and Hound would look like.

"I believe the fancier one tonight," he smiled slightly and placed the darker one back. "If you are a fertility goddess, you shall look like one."

"I'm glad you approve," she purred, taking the shimmering dress. "Now, how about giving your fertility goddess a bath so we can give our knocked up lover the overload he deserves and give that baby spark a charge at the same time?"

"I agree," Mirage all but purred with a devilish look for his bonded.

* * *

Killblade watched from an out of the way spot near the medbay's main door at the organized chaos of three mechs and one organic prepared to allow their domain to be vacant for the first time since before he and Jolt arrived. It was interesting, to say the least. He was still surprised that Ratchet's organic ranked second among the four, including over an experienced, purpose-built medic.

His optics remained largely on Jolt though, watching the much smaller, electric blue mech move about, following orders and trying to come to grips with what he was in the order of things now. He wanted nothing more than to skate up to him, grab him up and haul him off to 'face him senseless so he could take him to the party looking as properly ravaged and claimed as he could.

Jolt's mouth twitched in a grin, his newly installed medical sensors noting the optics trained on him.

**"What are you smiling about, youngster?"** Ratchet asked in a good natured grumble, well aware of the audience Jolt had whenever the blue bladewarrior wasn't on duty or sparring (something that he usually tried to save for when his lover was _not_ on duty so he could show off his skills.)

**"Nothing, Sir,"** he said, only to open a private comm channel. ::I... I think he wants to be more than casual lovers.::

::Obviously, youngster. He is displaying classic mating behaviors, trying to show you that he is strong enough carry a spark and could defend a sparkling and its caretaker. At least according to the data and narratives Jazz sent over. Apparently, it never was taken out of our core programming. You are displaying them as well. Look at the way he is ruffling his armor, puffing it out like some avian doing a display.::

Ratchet was obviously fascinated with studying such unconscious protocols in the Autobots around him now that he was aware they existed. Mikaela had swiftly become an expert, able to read them even better than Ratchet himself because she wasn't so _affected_ by them.

::So ... trying to make himself look bigger and heavier armored, showing off when sparing ... I knew the sparing was trying to impress me, but the armor thing ... that's why it's such a turn on?:: he murmured. ::It does make him look better.::

::Don't I know it.:: Ratchet smirked as he continued to prep patients for his upcoming absence. ::I used to be a much more lightly armored mech, so I don't engage in the armor puffing nearly as much. I'm more inclined to be attracted to it. So...do you want to know what _you_ are doing because of those unconscious protocols of yours? Or would you rather remain blissfully ignorant?::

::I'd like to know,:: he focused on his new mentor, though he kept enough attention on his actions to avoid suspicion.

::Well, let me first tell you that the mech who does not carry was traditionally the primary caretaker and educator of the sparkling. Often is the one who builds the frame and donates the majority of the protomass as well. Does that give you any ideas about what you might be doing?:: Ratchet asked, as always turning any interaction with his protégés into a chance to teach.

::Learning a lot, and showing it off to him that I'm training to be a medic,:: Jolt guessed. ::I kinda always did it with him, talking about whatever trivia I'd picked up that decaorn. Ummm, I tend to do a lot of the organizing with our time.::

::Showing you would be an excellent caretaker, educator and do all that is required, in addition to being organized enough to run a household,:: Ratchet explained. ::What else?::

::Caretaker traits... yeah, I do that,:: he considered his behavior patters going far back, to well before he'd met Killblade. Then he looked at what he'd done when other mechs had attracted his attention. ::Good social contacts and an income, with potential for advancement. I could give a sparkling advantages beyond supplying basic needs. The potential to do better in life than we will.::

::You got it,:: Ratchet grinned, changing an energon drip on one of the many of Jolt's cadre members who were being repaired, but still in stasis. ::So, here is an interesting one. Ironhide and Chromia. Both of them are carrier frames. Heavily armored. Hide is the larger, so he'd likely be the one to be displaying as a potential carrier. But ... he also has caretaker and guardian core programming. Watch those two tonight, and see if you can figure out how it affects the mate-attraction protocols.::

::With Jazz and Prowl, neither are really combat frames. Same with Silver Shadow and Starjumper ... they're actually the same frametype,:: Jolt said thoughtfully. ::And the Twins and Shimmerfire are all big warriors. All pretty young too..::

::True. When Jazz was sparked, his size frame _was_ very large, and he is _made_ to carry the way Seekers are. I see Prowl exhibiting more of the caretaker instinctive behaviors, though his bondmate being who he is, both are quite aware and can consciously alter their behavior. Jazz's own protocols will have adjusted to the changes in average size, making him thoroughly comfortable in either role. With a bonded pair, you can also tell a lot about by the way the two relate to their socket. Prowl shows a great deal of caretaker behavior with Miles. It makes me expect that Prowl will allow his caretaker protocols to become dominant, and that Jazz will carry.::

Ratchet made a few adjustments to the medbay monitors, then continued as he made final rounds among his patients. ::We all have both sets of protocols. What becomes dominant depends on sparktraits as well frame size and weight of armor compared to our intended mate. Jazz will likely carry because he loves to do so. It will be a conscious choice on his part. For Silver Shadow and Starjumper it will likely come down to sparktraits as well.::

::Twins and Shimmerfire ... Seekers have a completely different set of mating protocols at work. Because Seeker reproduction passes along far more physical traits rather than simply sparktraits to the protoform, the physical prowess of an intended mate is extremely important. The fact that Sideswipe clearly got the caretaker sparktraits in his half doesn't hurt, but if he hadn't been a fine warrior, Shimmerfire would have had no interest. The Seeker trine developed to protect and provide for a grounded carrier in the later stages of carrying. You'll see that first hand in a few more metacycles. In a true trine, it's usually Vision, the right wingmate, that carries. They are the least violent and most stable of the Seeker code-types, the thinkers of their race. That leaves the aggressive ones, Order and Action, the leader and left wingmate respectively, to make sure they are protected so they rest, have enough energon and supplements to produce strong Seekerlings. When it works, it's actually quiet an elegant social structure.::

::Ironhide and Chromia's situation is different from all of those, and I think after watching them for a time, you will see why,:: Ratchet added.

Jolt let his mentor finish talking, then launched into his questions. ::Is it safer for Jazz to carry because he was designed for it? Do you think a pre-pregrammed like Prowl even _could_ carry? That design didn't even exist when the last grounder sparkling was born.::

::Yes, absolutely safer for him, and he has carried before. According to what Jazz told me, in the early days, when our reproduction was much more similar to that of organics, mortality for the carrier was relatively rare. It was the changes that came about due to the Unmaker's work that made it so dangerous. But I see no reason why Prowl could not carry. It isn't as though his spark or frame are weaker for being pre-programmed. His only disadvantage is that his spark had to support an adult frame immediately, which does decrease his life-span, but he is still plenty young, and his spark is strong, very strong now because they have a socket with excellent compatibility with both of them. So if Prowl were to be the one who carried, I do not foresee it being of any greater risk to him than it is to Hound.::

Jolt gave a covert glance at the royal blue mech who was still puffed and preening for him, and watching him intently. ::Do you know just how much risk there is, for those with modern frames?::

::The medical texts indicate a 33% mortality rate among carriers. Jazz insists that figure is inflated. The texts were all written in the generator era, so there is no accounting for what affect and organic socket will have on that.:: Ratchet gave Jolt a sideways glance. ::In my opinion, if you want to create and carry a spark, get yourself an organic as soon as you can.

::There's a _lot_ that has to happen first, sir, like bonding,:: Jolt pointed out with a subtle tinkle of armor plates in embarrassment. Then considered Killblade again, who posed the moment he realized he was being watched. ::Will everybody want to just jump him when he does that?.::

Jolt didn't even realize he was strutting a bit himself until Ratchet snickered.

::Let me put that a different way, youngster. If you remotely think you might want to eventually consider the possibility of carrying a spark, find yourself an organic. I know you claimed Shekat to keep her alive longer for the good of your cadre, but she isn't _yours_. There is no harm in strengthening your own spark vorns in advance.::

Jolt's attention snapped back to his mentor and he nodded. ::What should I look for?::

::High sex drive, caretaker traits, good energy resonance with you, and someone Killblade would enjoy sharing with, since it is far more fun to involve a second mech in sharing than it is to share alone.::

::But you share alone, sir,:: Jolt responded with a bit of trepidation.

::I'm a unique case,:: Ratchet noted, without expanding.

Mikaela finally jumped in, snickering, having overheard much of the conversation through the bond. ~Are you the carrier type or the caretaker type?~

~I'm the type to carry you to our berth and take care of you until you can't remember your name,~ was her mech's amused reply.

~That isn't what I asked and you know it,~ she countered in an exasperated tone.

~And when I find the right mech to have a sparkling with, I'll let you know. I have no fragging idea. My former frame type was definitely caretaker. My current one is carrier, but the medic coding messes with all that as well.~

~Any candidates?~ she purred, more than eager to have little mechs around.

~Perhaps,~ he murmured in response, images of sharing his socket with his Prime and oldest friend running through his processors.

Jolt nodded faintly. **"Is there anything else to do, sir?"**

Ratchet smiled at his trainee. **"We are all done here. Go and enjoy yourself, youngster, but remember you are on call for the third shift of the party, and I expect you in here no later than 0800 tomorrow morning."**

**"Yes, sir,"** he smiled and whirled around, a distinctly predatory expression and body language taking over as he went right for Killblade.

~That is going to be fun to watch,~ Mikaela snickered.

* * *

"What is tonight likely to be like, anyway?" Sarah asked as they got ready for what was reported to be the biggest bash in ages.

"A lot of high grade and alcohol, a lot of music, dancing, mechs and sockets who won't be bothered to get a room, or even go outside," Ironhide grinned as he worked on polishing his mate's armor to as much of a shine as she'd tolerate. Mostly she'd only humored him into touching up her paint so it looked flawless.

"Probably a few brawls, and more public affection and courting than you're used to among the mechs," Chromia added with an eager grin. "A lot of couples, bonded or not, have been reunited after time apart, and there are several mechs out to court someone."

"So in other words, the decision to keep Annabelle at home was a good one," Sarah smirked. Will had drawn the short straw, so he was staying home with their little girl. It wasn't like they wanted anyone else to miss the party, and their list of trusted mechs or human sitters was quite short. He didn't complain. He knew high public the affection would be, and was not ready to fully indulge that in front of his troops. "That brings up an issue, though. There has been more and more public facing and charging going on," Sarah continued. "I know we western humans really have our hangups, but I do worry about how much Annabelle and the other kids will see around here before they are ready for it."

Chromia made a sound that seemed distinctly like an aborted snort, and Ironhide really did roll his optics.

"Has witnessing sex for the first billion years of your evolution harmed your species?" Ironhide asked calmly.

"Or is it that you are so _special_ that what's natural to every other socket race, every other species on this planet, even to dozens of cultures of your own kind, is dangerous to your young?" Chromia wasn't nearly as polite before glaring at her mate. **"Haven't you taught them _anything_? How many generations did you raise anyway? I can't believe you're taking that kind of insult to your guardian protocols."**

**"They are free to believe what they do,"** he rumbled deeply, trying to keep his own frustration with the dominant human cultures under control.

Sarah felt her shackles raise, instantly on the defensive, the mama bear in her growling. It was the first time she had been downright angry at Chromia. At least Ironhide had been polite.

"How many socket species have you dealt with that are first generation coming out of a sexually confused and repressed society, Chromia? You expect us to change overnight? Of course I know that our particular hangups are cultural. But things like that don't just change in a few months, and there are families on this base who are not claimed, not sockets, and have no basis for changing what has been ingrained in them for generations. Accepting this," she pointed to her neck, "is a huge change for us. To have no sensitivity to the culture you are completely changing is...well...I guess I just expected a little more tact and patience."

"Tact and patience aren't her strong suits," Ironhide vented. "Never have been. She's not a guardian or caretaker either."

Chromia rumbled. "I expect you'd want to make your child's life easier, not harder, with what you teach her."

"Love, please. Tonight is a celebration," Ironhide reached to grip Chromia's arm. "Now is not the time to argue about whether or not Annabelle is being raised correctly."

Sarah was not about to back down. "_Neither_ of you answered my question. How many times have you dealt with a first generation sockets coming out of a culture like ours, which is both incredibly repressed but also sexually objectifies women? And you can't understand _why_ it would be difficult for me and others to instantly change generations of conditioning and our desire to keep our daughters from feeling like they have no value other than as sex objects? Annabelle is going to have to deal with both her identity in a brand new culture, as well as her old one, because both are going to exist on this base for quite some time. Don't you dare judge me for not being ready to have her face that yet."

"Personally, I've dealt with a couple," Chromia shrugged. "All three organics that came with me are like you, sockets installed in adulthood not long after meeting us for the first time. Even Caurver has figured it out."

"Probably a dozen," Ironhide huffed. "Which is why I _haven't_ pressured you. It goes against my protocols to let her even be aware that pleasure can be considered wrong. It will make her life more difficult if she believes that. I've known enough first generation parents to know it's not as simple as it sounds to raise someone to have different beliefs than your own."

Chromia grumbled something which Ironhide ignored.

"And why would wanting something to be kept private make it wrong? I'm not going to teach Annabelle the sex is wrong, for God's sake. I'm going to teach her that it is good and healthy and wonderful and right when she is at an age where she can truly _consent_ to what is happening to her. Annabelle begins to see public facing and sharing going on, and the first thing she is going to want to do is join in. _I'm_ not ready for that. Is the next thing you are going to try to convince me of that having a 3 year share should be considered normal and that I'm harming her by not allowing it?"

The deep rumble of fury and the matching burst of emotion over their socket bond nearly knocked the woman on her ass.

"That is _not_ acceptable," Ironhide did his best not to bellow. "It is not normal. It is not healthy. _Cybertronians_ don't get interfacing protocols until their mechling upgrade, and no mech that wants to continue to function would share with anything that isn't at least an adolescent. Not sensually."

Sarah took a deep breath, trying hard not to cry. She was silent for a time and then said, "But that is exactly it. How would you expect me to know that when so much of what you do _is_ considered kinky at best and downright immoral by the culture I was raised in? When everything you have known is being turned on its head, it is reasonable to wonder if that particular ingrained moral is also going to be, which is why I _wasn't_ prepared to have Annabelle see people facing and sharing. I just didn't know what I was going to be asked to accept next. Unlike your children, ours are born with the proper parts, and there are unfortunately quite a few who take advantage of it and who will even argue that it _should_ be normal. Now excuse me. I need to cry alone for awhile and get myself ready."

The mechs watched her hurry away, Ironhide venting a deep sigh. He knew better than to try to make Chromia understand. She simply didn't have even the most basic sparkling guardian protocols. He couldn't blame her for this. It _was_ as frustrating as trying to raise Annabelle as a socket while her parents effectively were not. This was an argument that had brewed for some time already.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Sarah had mostly pulled herself together and had managed to even pull up her hair in a casually sexy manner, put on some lipstick, and her sexiest black dress that she always felt beautiful in and usually caused Will to pick her up and throw her roughly on their bed. When she looked in on him reading to Annabelle, he looked like he wanted to do just that, and it made her pause. Among every other species of animal, a female presenting the way she was would cause the male to do just that, and there would be no concerns about children being around. Why was she so afraid that Annabelle would become prematurely sexualized by seeing what all animals and many human cultures found to be normal?

"You look pwetty, mama," Annabelle said, reaching her arms around Sarah's neck. Sarah looked away and brushed back another tear that was threatening to spill.

"What's on your mind?" Will asked, still giving her a predatory look.

"I'll tell you later. I have a mech to apologize to. Now have a good night, you two. I'll give you a kiss when I get home, Belle." She gave them both a kiss, took a deep breath, and purposefully walked to the main living space, still unsure that she wanted to face either her mech or his mate at the moment, but not about to let her shame and embarrassment keep her from doing so.

"You look lovely, Sarah," Ironhide's voice reached her first as the large black mech took the few steps to greet her and pick her up. "I wasn't sure you'd still want to come with us tonight."

She sat much more stiffly in his hand than normal. "I wasn't sure I wanted to either, or that you would want to take me." She swallowed and looked at her hands. " Look...I _know_ you would never do anything to hurt Annabelle. This is just hard, ok? My emotions have been on a total roller coaster ever since things got a lot more public around here. Will and I are both so uncomfortable with it. I _want_ Annabelle to grow up with a healthy attitude towards sexuality and being a socket. I'm just terrified of her becoming sexualized too young, which is a huge issue in my culture. My heart is just going to take time to catch up with my brain on that one."

"Sarah," he caressed her gently with a finger. "I understand," he rumbled softly. "It's not easy to adapt to such a different culture when you have a young one. The 'facing drive on base is a lot higher than normal too, because of the sparklings. It's been so long, and they're such a reminder that we might get to _live_ again soon. Are you ready to enjoy the party?"

"I am...I really am. I don't like arguing with you...and I really don't want Chromia to think badly of Will and I. I just want to go and have fun and forget about it all, and watch people live it up for the night, because there is a lot to celebrate right now," Sarah finally settled comfortably in to Ironhide's hand, his warmth, gentle rumbling voice, and the EM field she knew he had tuned toward her needs finally relaxing her.

He brought her up to his shoulder, a heavily protected location between his helm and shoulder armor. Several cables gave her a snug place to ride, and a connector cable snaked it way into her hands before he turned to walk up to Chromia and slid an arm around her.

Sarah plugged in with a feeling of relief. It certainly wasn't the first time she had fought with her mech, and wouldn't be the last, but connecting always eased her, so much so that she and Will had taken to connecting with a cable after they fought, to be in each other's feelings and minds as much as they were able to manage.

Affection washed over her, with tendrils of regret, relief and frustration mixed in for the first few moments. Then they were out of the house and walked towards the base proper where the party was well on its way to full swing. Even though it was centered on hanger 10, it was already spilling out into the open dusk air with music and the sounds of honest happiness.

Being a mom with a preschooler whose spouse and mech were liable to be called away at any time for some emergency didn't leave Sarah with a great deal of time to spend in Hanger 10 (or Hang 10 as it was affectionately coming to be called). But even she could tell that it had been almost totally changed for the sake of the party.

An outdoor circular area had been set aside for sparing, with humans and mechs standing around the side making bets, cheering on, and making 'helpful suggestions' to Killblade and Sideswipe who were currently showing off their skills. Sarah noticed with wry amusement that Ma-le was getting off on her silver mech's skills in Sunstreaker's able hands.

Inside there was a mech-sized dance floor with an elevated portion for organics. Some sort of barely visible energy curtain kept the blasting music from overwhelming the rest of the space. A karaoke stage was set up at the other end of the vast space. Extra catwalks had been set up throughout for the smaller partygoers who did not have the relative safety of a mech to sit on. And there were tables with more varieties of booze, food, and energon than Sarah could have imagined, in addition to the beach barbecue taking place outside.

Then she saw another area set aside, with some odd activity going on. The game looked very familiar, but the last time she had played twister, it hadn't been 3-D and involved having to grope, touch, lick, or otherwise molest various parts of the other players as part of the instructions.

~Work hard, play hard, overload as often as possible,~ Ironhide chuckled, finding the game more than a touch appealing. ~I'm not sure whether to blame Miles or Jazz, so probably both.~

~Oh, I'm sure. Those two are a dangerous team,~ she laughed, starting to relax simply watching everyone have so much fun. She quickly accessed the relaxed schedule for the evening, and saw that there was a mech/socket version of the Twister game scheduled for later. How that was going to work, she had no idea. A roar of laughter erupted when Smokescreen toppled over while trying to swallow Blaster's spike from an impossible position.

~Want to play the mech/socket one?~ Ironhide asked with a great deal of amusement even as Chromia pulled him into a hard, heated kiss.

**"I'm going to play. Coming?"** she rumbled in a near-dare.

**"Have fun, love,"** Ironhide shook his head easily.

~Maybe,~ Sarah flirted coyly. ~All depends on who I get to grope,~ she added, as the two watched Chromia join the game, drawing a cheer from those watching.

~Likely everyone,~ he chuckled, optics bright and a rumble of arousal growing in his engine block as he watched his mate get her fingers into Bluestreak's right wing joint. ~A drink or snack?~ he offered, mentally providing an image list of everything available for her.

~Sure,~ Sarah said with a smile, laughing outloud as Bluestreak was put into a nearly impossible position with one hand holding himself up from the floor, pedes each in different quadrants in the air, and his other hand trying to get a finger in Bumblebee's valve. Both mechs ended up crashing to the ground in a glorious wreck of limbs, and practically started taking each other's plating off as Sam cheered.

~You know ... you all have quite a drive considering how long you live. How do you keep things from getting boring?" she smirked, looking behind her wryly at the Autobot who normally seemed painfully innocent putting on quite a show with Bumblebee.

~Somewhere between pleasure isn't boring, a significant range of lovers and always developing new options we manage,~ he smirked and handed her a beer and shallow bowl of finger food before heading for the Cybertronian feast on offer. ~I was already half my current vorns when Wheeljack came up with the spike and valve mod. It wasn't the first major shift I've seen and it's unlikely to be the last.~

"To Wheeljack," Sarah raised her Corona and lime in the air, and took a drink, before peering down over Ironhide's shoulder to see a fantastic array of glowing colors and shapes on the table.

"Who, for once, got it right," the big mech rumbled in amusement as he put together a small plate of more solid seeming shapes before claiming a rich red cube to drink. "Best upgrade invented in vorns."

With a bright laugh Sarah pinged the base datanet for explanations of what her mech had selected. While the words made sense, the context escaped her. Energon cookie, energon crunch-gel confection, rust-glazed energon cream, rust and some-glyph-that-refused-to-translate-beyond-'edible-metal' stick ... it brought her mind to the desert bars in the larger cities. A handful of ingredients, dozens of final products.

~Alright, wathcha got there, big guy? I thought rust was something you all wanted to avoid at all costs?~ Sarah commented as Ironhide plopped the energon cookie into his mouth.

~Poor translation,~ he chuckled a bit and showed her the glyph for the rust glaze and its complete translation denoting not only the original material, but also the stellar and geographic location it came from, method of oxidation, how long the processes had taken, the method used to gather and possess it, the size of particles and its final use.

They were followed by a dozen more, each carefully explained in as many words and images as were required. From delicacies and why they were hard to get to the normal kind used as a flavor additive to the medical nightmare. Each glyph had similar features, but she could see the differences too.

~Energon has the same issue," he added as she processed the complexities of his language. ~To us, there are thirty different words for what you call energon on that table, each meaning a different thing and none of which translate well past the potency. Even that is less than accurate.~ He paused. ~Not unlike 'blue' is to you.~

~Sort of like calling something wine and only being able to differentiate between red and white. But what do they all _taste_ like to you? Or is tasting not the point? Do you use your glossa to taste? Or just for giving the most amazing oral sex a woman could ever dream of?~

Ironhide rumbled deeply as he found a spot to watch both dance floor - currently dominated by Jazz and Blaster - the Twister game - which had devolved into an orgy of sorts - and the rest of the room, primarily the door. ~Yes, we can taste, just as we can smell. Chemical sensors produce both sets of information. Most confections here would best translate as sweet. Rust is salty or savory, though a few varieties aren't. Regular energon is ... savory with a touch of sweetness. High grade is generally sweeter and ... effervescent I'd say.~

~Can you share with me what things taste like to you, beyond just a description?~ She asked as Jazz executed some impossible looking spin on one hand, then launched himself with the same hand, to be caught by Blaster as though it were choreographed.

~Yes,~ he paused and offered the dataset of his most resent bite. ~See Prowl,~ he indicated across the link where the TIC was sitting, quietly sipping a cube of greenish-blue energon. ~If you want some good mech-watching, keep an eye on him while Jazz dances. I doubt they'll manage to get him to 'face in the room, but it'll be a very abrupt exit.~

Sarah closed her eyes for a moment to experience the strange sensation of an intensely sweet taste and energy all in one. Of course, food was her energy as well...but this was different. Energy in its purest form that her body interpreted as tingling warmth flowing through her like her blood, giving a bit of a high.

She then turned her attention from the dance floor where Blaster and Jazz were doing some combination of mech dirty dancing and sparring that seemed to involve Blaster attempting to capture Jazz and the saboteur artfully and gracefully escaping his clutches each time.

Prowl looked at ease, but then she noticed the subtle twitch to his sensor wings. She automatically looked around for Miles, and then grinned she realized that a pair of arms were reaching around the mech's waist just far enough to tease the edges of the TIC's interface panel. The socket was hidden behind Prowl on his seat.

~Sneaky socket,~ she grinned, unable to keep herself from her own exploration of Ironhide's cabling on his neck.

~Very,~ Ironhide rumbled in amusement of the scene and approval of what his socket was doing. ~Now the best shows are when Jazz manages to get Prowl to dance ... he's actually quite good at it. That tends to set the entire base off in short order. It's almost as amazing as watching them spar as warriors.~

For perhaps the first time, Sarah realized that her mech really did respect Prowl as a warrior in his own right. ~It irritates you, doesn't it? That the good fighters aren't warriors.~

He huffed, but she felt the confirmation. ~Prowl, Jazz, Mirage ... they're all exceptional, and not one of them will fight if they don't have to.~

~Do you know why?~ She asked, finding her own arousal kindled by the sensuous dance now happening on the floor. She was amazed by the grace that even a mech as bulky as Ironhide could show, vividly recalling some of the files she had seen of the Mission City battle and more recent memories of watching him spar and train others.

~They think they're better than that,~ he grumbled.

Sarah felt it wise to thoroughly distract Hide from that thought. She took another drink of her beer, and then leaned over to suck on and squeeze his sensitive neck components. The primal energy in the hanger with Jazz and Blaster's dancing, the Twister game turned orgy, and the laughter and facing that was beginning to erupt throughout the space made her dizzy with need. It didn't help that when she glanced at Miles, he was now on Prowl's lap, wiggling his fingers between the seams of the white, black and red mech's interface panel.

The almost unguarded pleasure and _enjoyment_ on the seemingly emotionless mech's faceplates as he watched his bonded dance and spread his legs for his socket to play with such sensitive parts was such a different look at him. The rush of pleasure from her mech at her efforts dragged an eager moan from her.

~What's the sexiest thing here, to you?~ Ironhide rumbled, several of his cables snaking out to caress her.

~Besides the tall, dark and deadly mech holding me right now?~ She coyly asked, making a point to look over the whole room, including Chromia spiking Fireflight. Jazz and Blaster kept catching her attention with their nearly primal energetic dancing which now included several of Blaster's brood. But it was Prowl that her attention kept returning to, the intensity of his gold optics staring at his bonded and the honest pleasure he showed at Miles molestation. Prowl suddenly lifted his socked to his shoulder, and the blond reached up caress the front side of his sensor wings.

An unsuppressed shiver passed down Prowl's entire frame, his optics dimmed briefly as his mouth opened a touch. He seemed to be oblivious to everything but his bonded and socket. His optics locked on Jazz, he lowered his hand to his interface panel and rubbed it, enticing another shiver from him, and one from Jazz.

~They are very hot when they feel like it,~ Ironhide admitted, his own panel growing warm. ~Prowl's feeling sexy today.~

Sarah took the final drink of her beer and ate her last appetizer, and without having to ask, Ironhide took the plate and bottle and put them down at the table, giving her hands the freedom to explore his frame even as his cables began to reach under her dress.

~And what is the sexiest to you...aside from Chromia...she is obvious,~ Sarah purred as she began using the responses she felt through her socket to guide her hands to just the right places under his massive shoulder armor.

~What's going on outside,~ he rumbled eagerly. ~The combat. Fair bet for any sparked warrior. Watching someone show off, trying to get another to their berth...~ he shivered faintly. ~Very erotic.~

~Take me there,~ she suggested, ~and you can show me how it makes you feel, or perhaps spar with someone yourself. You know I love to watch you,~ Sarah shivered, public sharing suddenly seeming like no issue at all when she imagined Ironhide taking her while full of battle lust.

~Oh, I would love to,~ the heavily armored black mech shuddered deeply enough for a few of the less distracted folks around them to glance his way.

~The guests of honor have arrived,~ he abruptly distracted Sarah from what she was doing to get her to look towards the door, where Hound was walking in, as polished as Ironhide had ever seen him and his paint flawless. Alicia was in a truly amazing coruscating fantasy queen dress that would no doubt cause Shimmerfire jealousy. He was on Mirage's arm, opposite to the usual, and if the noble spy's frame language wasn't enough to ward off any threat, the looming form of Ratchet behind them was.

~I thought this was for all the carrying mechs?~ Sarah glanced at her mech before taking in the mixture of stress and smug pride that Mirage was all but radiating.

~Well, yes, but Hound is the _special_ one. That an Autobot Seeker is carrying is cause for celebration. That a different kind of mech is carrying is a miracle.~

~Does it make you wish to carry one of your own?~ Sarah asked wistfully, trying to imagine what it was like for the Autobots to be witnessing new life come to be when all hope had been lost with the destruction of the Allspark.

~Very much,~ he nodded, not quite ready to move as he took in the small shift in Hound's familiar energy signature now that there was a second, related, spark inside him. ~It requires a bond, and a willing bondmate at a minimum. I expect I will always be the ... maiden aunt. The caretaker, never the carrier.~

~Perhaps when the war ends,~ she said hopefully. It would be so _right_ for Ironhide to have one of his own to carry and care for. Seeing the joy of the party and the way Hound, Mirage, and Alicia were glowing with pride, it truly did feel like when, not if.

~Perhaps,~ he didn't sound, or feel, nearly as hopeful. ~Even when it was much simpler she wanted nothing to do with sparklings. The four I've raised I did so when she was stationed far way.~

~One of the reasons to have sockets with children?~ She asked. ~Will and I have been talking about making a brother or sister for Belle.

~I want that even if I have sparklings of my own,~ he rumbled and brushed again her mind with affection. ~The desire to have, protect and raise young is very central to my core programming as a guardian. It may have been intended to be towards my own kind, but it goes to all kinds. You know I'd love another baby around,~ he all but purred. ~Any preference on gender or other traits?~

~Will would like a little boy, I like to let the chips fall where they may. I know it is possible to have a lot more control over things like traits and gender with Ratchet's help, but there really is something wonderful and mysterious about letting it be random and seeing what you get. What about you? What traits or gender would you want to see in our next? You should have some say in what happens to your family.~

~I'm partial to a male, since you have a female,~ he nuzzled her mentally even as his optics remained on Hound. ~I will be happy as long as you are both healthy.~

~Whatever it takes to keep you happy, big guy,~ she sent her giant weapon wielding teddy bear in return.

~What do you see in Hound right now? He seems like both the carrier and caretaker type to me, but perhaps I'm misjudging Mirage.~ She asked, regarding the pair with open curiosity.

~They've never been a balanced pairing, or a traditional one,~ he shrugged. ~Hound is both, though Mirage is showing more caretaker than I was expecting. By the time it's in a frame, he may have gotten enough of the code active to do his part. Not that Hound would complain if he doesn't. He's got even more caretaker code in him than I do. Despite the lighter armor, Mirage should have been the carrier of them.~

~But Alicia said that Mirage was a ... a second born noble ... second creation I mean. Weren't they the ones who were supposed to take care of the sparkling and run the household?~ Sarah asked as the three, having made their entrance came sweeping in, being greeted by everyone like some sort of trio of celebrities.

Ironhide regarded the slender mech again, as if that information would change what he perceived. ~Yes, the second creation is the subservient one. Where did Alicia get that information? No second creation could have survived Jazz's training, much less fieldwork. I may not _like_ the mech, much less trust'm, but you have to respect the will it takes to stand up to Soundwave. That's one thing no second creation could ever have.~

~I didn't ask her. I assumed it was something Mirage or Hound told her while they were courting her. I questioned her about Mirage because I had heard he had such a low view of organics, and she tried to help me understand him a bit better.~

Ironhide huffed. ~He's got a low opinion of just about _everybody_ outside the top rank in SpecOps.~

Sarah gave a noncommittal ~hmmm,~ knowing all too well that once someone was on Ironhide's bad side, it was very difficult for them to find their way back to his good one, and that once again, she was determined to make up her own mind about the mechs on base. ~Where is the other guest of honor?~ she asked for a distraction even as Ironhide moved forward to greet and give congratulations to the expecting couple.

~Outside, with the other fliers,~ he sent her an image-picture of what his sensors told him. Not just the Seekers, but all the jets, both choppers and Blaster's two avian symbiots, all playing in the air in a game of protect the carrier trying to escape them.

Soon, she and Ironhide found themselves in front of the guests of honor.

"Lookin' awesome, girlfriend," Sarah said with a grin to Alicia. "Is that the dress you told me about?"

"The very one," Alicia answered with a bright smile, caressing Mirage's helm from where she sat on his shoulder.

Even if she wasn't great at reading mechs yet, reading people came naturally and Sarah was sure that Mirage was a very happy, very proud mech right now. She watched with distinct interest as Ironhide spread his fingers across Hound's chest. The intensity of emotion in her mech was astounding.

**"I will protect your sparkling with my spark, as my own,"** Ironhide rumbled deeply in a much more formal Cybertronian dialect than normal, automatically translating everything for Sarah through the socket.

**"Thank you, Ironhide,"** Hound responded in the same formal tone.

Then to Ironhide's almost processor-stalling shock, Mirage bowed slightly to him.

**"Thank you, Prime's Guardian Ironhide,"** he addressed the warrior not only formally, but with an honest respect and thanks showing.

~Ok...that was amazing,~ Sarah had a broad smile on her face watching the interaction. Alicia had convinced her there was far more to the spy than the majority on base seemed to give him credit for. This just seemed to be more proof. She glanced at Alicia and the other woman beamed at her.

Ironhide grunted in acknowledgment, gave Mirage a searching look, and made his escape without looking like he was hurrying. ~That was creepy.~

~Ok, tall, dark and cuddly, what was creepy about it?~ she asked with quiet amusement.

~Mirage being so ... respectful,~ he tried to explain something that had simply hit him. ~He's _never_ that ... sincere.~

~That is creepy,~ she gently jested, ~I wonder if people really give him the chance to be sincere, since most seem to expect the worst out of him.~

~He's a spy, Sarah. A noble and didn't see a single Autobot until five vorns after Jazz got his claws on him. Even Ratchet baulked at the level of reprogramming that happened. Whatever that mech is, it's not a real mech. It's a spark sustaining Jazz's programming.~

~Yet that mech bonded with a mech nearly universally liked and respected. Would Hound have bonded with someone who wasn't real? ~ She asked quietly.

~Probably not,~ Ironhide reluctantly admitted as they stepped out into the warm Diego Garcia darkness lit only by the bonfires and celebratory lights. ~He's still **_Jazz's_**.~

~Well, shall we go check out that oh so erotic sparring? Mirage and Hound holding court interrupted something I felt was brewing,~ she caressed him longingly across their bond.

~Yes,~ he rumbled deeply and eagerly picked up his pace towards the sparing grounds where those with stronger warrior tendencies were gathered for their own form of flirting and courting.

**"Hey, Ironhide!"** Killblade called to him from the sidelines. **"Next match?"**

~Do you mind?~ Ironhide asked Sarah, obviously eager.

~Not at all! You know I love watching you spar,~ She purred right back as they settled in to watch the current duo, Sunstreaker vs. Sideswipe.

Ironhide glanced around and walked up to Jolt, who was standing just inside EM field range of Killblade, but not otherwise engaging him. ~Jolt? You might find it interesting to watch through his optics as his lover fights.~

~Of course, as long as he is agreeable.~ Sarah was glad she did not need to hear what was going on. The Seekers and Aerials were making enough noise for that to be impossible at the moment, until the streaked off to the east.

Ironhide nodded. **"Hey, Jolt. Game to let Sarah watch through you?"**

**"Of course,"** the warrior-turned-medic grinned and held out his hands for her. **"She knows what it's going to be like, right?"**

Ironhide translated the question for her as she climbed in to the electric blue medic's hands. She grinned and patted Jolt on the hand. "If you mean you are going to be turned on enough to make me climax without trying, I think that was exactly why Ironhide suggested you be the one to hold me."

"Yap," Jolt grinned, his engine rumbling a bit faster in anticipation before looking up at Ironhide. "I'll get her good and wound up for you, if you get _him_ wound up for me."

Ironhide rumbled in laughter. "Oh, I plan to, but don't expect me to make it easy on him. You may have to repair him before you can 'face him."

"I can handle that," Jolt rumbled.

**"As if you're that good,"** Killblade rumbled with a clicking of armor plates as they shifted away from his protoform, making him look bigger and more imposing.

**"Better remember who trained you, youngster. I've got more than a few tricks left that I never passed on."** Ironhide expanded his impressively thick armor in response, dwarfing Killblade with his bulk. Sarah gave an appreciative whistle.

Jolt's engine responded to the display with a rev, and he wasn't the only one. Even the Twins had stopped to watch. A connector cable nudged Sarah's hand, asking to be plugged in.

**"Remember who I've fought under and against while you held bases,"** Killblade rumbled back, his crimson blades flashing as they snapped into place. **"You'll need to beg Ratchet away from his guard duty."**

With a smirk, Sarah plugged in, recognizing a familiar ritual that she had seen so many times when Will had fought with others in the boxing ring. Protocols rather than hormones, but it was little different, especially as she caught her first blast of a revved up Jolt. It was all posturing, talking themselves up, their opponent down and completely testosterone-fueled antics to impress both peers and potential lovers.

It was amazing how much like teenagers these mechs that were millions, if not billions, of years old could be.

**"You're in,"** Sideswipe called as he retrieved a very eager Ma-le from Smokescreen.

**"You are going down."** Killblade growled before skating into the center of the ring to the cheers, revs and cat-calls of the others.

Sarah could feel the fine tremors in Jolt's hands, even though he shielded her from the bulk of his reaction. She did catch a hint from him that he wasn't looking at _just_ a lover, but someone who might be more.

"Make my slagging day, punk. I'll see you in pieces before I am through with you," Ironhide growled in English in his trademark Clint Eastwood impersonation to the cheers and shouts of most of the humans around the perimeter. There was no doubt to Sarah that he was having the time of his life as he brought a large double bladed war axe out of subspace.

~It's of similar design to Prime's, who apparently modeled his after Ironhide wiped the sparring floor with him shortly before his ascension.~ Jolt explained to her.

Killblade grinned back, pure malice and excitement across his entire frame as he saluted Ironhide with his blades and darted in for the first strike.

~Killblade really doesn't stand a chance, you know that, right?~ Sarah glanced up at the mech holding her before focusing on the action.

~The old mech doesn't stand a chance,~ Jolt teased in return.

It would be a battle between brute force and speed, between armor heavy enough to take many direct blows from swords such as those the bladewarriors carried, and the precision with which a bladewarrior could find a barely noticeable gap in that plating.

Ironhide did not even bother to block the strike, instead focusing on swinging his axe over his shoulder toward the side that was now undefended as Killblade connected with his armor in a deafening clang.

Killblade twisted into a leap that somehow managed to let him roll over the flat of the axe and on his wheels again.

This time Jolt didn't even try to conceal the flash of arousal, desire and _approval_ from Ironhide's socket.

Sarah grinned. A mech like Ironhide hadn't lived as long as he had without having some surprises in him. She was certain at this point he was simply testing his opponent, with no real fear of what the blades could do to him. He was _designed_ to withstand concussive blows and stay on his feet.

He waited, biding his time for the next attack.

She felt a gentle mental nudge from Jolt, and offer to let her watch through his optics and processors, to see for herself how a mech saw the battle and its participants.

Everything seemed to slow down, or at least her perceptions were suddenly far faster and finer. Things that were a blur with her own eyes could been seen in fine detail, with additional knowledge of speed and vector. As Killblade circled in for another strike, Ironhide suddenly became much faster than his bulk would suggest, blocking the blow with his axe which then completed its momentum to deliver a glancing blow to Killblade's shin armor, causing little damage other than a brief stumble. Ironhide immediately raised his axe again to take advantage of the momentary loss of balance only to find his prey was faster than he'd given credit to, and more aggressive.

Accustomed to Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, Ironhide didn't think that Killblade may have gotten any kind of serious upgrades in their time apart. The lighter warrior dove down, pushing his wheeled pedes to their greatest angle and slammed his back against Ironhide's pedes as part of a roll through the larger warrior's position.

~If he doesn't catch his balance, it's over,~ Jolt all but purred, his systems revved hard at the show he was being given.

~Have you ever seen the renderings of the Mission City battle?~ Sarah retorted even as Ironhide pushed off from the odd angle and somehow vaulted over Killblade, stumbling but quickly spinning with his axe raised to meet the blade that had been ready to come down on his back.

~Of course,~ Jolt shivered at the flash of armor and weapons, his temperature rising with the rev of his engine. ~I've also watched him take out an entire cadre solo.~

~Ironhide once took out a small planet,~ Sarah replied, laughing and shaking her head at their banter. It was like they were the girls bragging about their respective football player.

~Not that far off,~ Jolt snickered as the warriors exchanged another round of near-impossible moves. ~Except I'm a 'girl' that can take out half the team in my own right.~

~Don't I know it. Medics around here are the most dangerous ones...well...all of you except First Aid, but he could kill you with kindness. Of course, there is a reason Will keeps trying to stop Chromia from taking me to the range and letting me play with the big guns. The human males around here are all afraid of me, 'girlfriend'~ Sarah grinned.

She shouted aloud as Ironhide struck Killblade hard on the shoulder as they were both jumping. This time, he did some real damage, she noted, as the blue bladewarrior's left arm hung limp.

Unlike Sunstreaker or Sideswipe, this brother didn't loose his temper. He hunkered down into a more serious combat mode, several cables coming out to secure the limb against taking more damage from movement.

**"I told you,"** Ironhide smirked at his lighter opponent.

**"I'm far from down, relic,"** Killblade growled in response, causing another surge of _desire-approval_ in Jolt.

~How do non-warriors court?~ Jolt asked Sarah curiously. ~I never see them out here unless a warrior is trying for one.~

~You know, considering that my mech is a warrior and is with another warrior, I really have no idea. I'll have to ask Jazz or Ratchet,~ she commented before letting out a hiss as Ironhide narrowly avoided what would have been blow to his optics.

~They're getting serious,~ Jolt shivered in excitement, his arousal bringing the temperature of his plating up to a noticeably warm level. ~I'm going to _enjoy_ doing the repair work. Such an excuse to get my digits under his plating.~

The constant leaking arousal was building on the state Sarah had already been in.

~You...ummm...you don't have to shield quite so much if you don't want to,~ she suggested, sounding playfully shy.

Jolt revved his engine and opened his shields to the normal limit with a socket that wasn't his own, only to groan at the pleasure spike in her.

~Does Ironhide share without being asked?~ he tried not to pant.

~He wouldn't have had me plug in with you if he hadn't assumed it would happen. Prefers to be asked, but in cases like this, no problem at all. You are _warming me up_ to reward him or comfort him properly when this is over,~ she explained breathlessly, the battle taking on a whole new erotic level now that she was truly experiencing just how arousing it was for Jolt. It was always arousing to see her mech in action, but to witness it through the optics and reactions of one who was being courted and was excited by the fact was something entirely new.

~Good,~ Jolt shuddered as he lowered the firewall preventing her arousal from feeding his spark. ~You're incredible,~ he breathed against her awareness and brushed a bit of experimental pleasure against her mind even as a couple cables slid along her bare legs and another caressed her abdomen. ~So different from Shekat.~

Sarah thanked him for the complement with an audible moan that attracted a few glances and smiles from other mechs watching the match.

~Are you...oh God that is good...are you planning on claiming a socket...YES RIGHT THERE...a socket here?~ she asked right before Killblade connected with a weak spot on the back of Ironhide's knee joint. It did not sever the cables, but definitely was painful. The rush of arousal she was fed was almost enough for her to start rooting for Killblade just to keep it coming.

It was testament to how much Ironhide had to focus that he didn't even spare the effort to grumble at her on the bond for the treacherous thought.

~Yes, I want a sparkling someday,~ his ventilations picked up as he slid a cable up her short dress to tease her for her lack of underwear briefly, only to sink into her slick sex with a heady rev at the action.

The rush from her when Ironhide caught Killblade across the back with the axe, slicing into his armor, brought another cable up to twist around the first in her sex as they spiraled and pumped in and out in rhythm with the battle.

The battle became an erotic dance for the socket and medic's enjoyment, blows beginning to rain down on one another furiously, energon streaming from both frames. None of the injuries were truly serious, but it was enough to make Jolt run almost _too_ hot as he pumped pleasure into Sarah's body through her socket and her sex. She screamed her climax just as Ironhide was coming in for a kill blow and slipped slightly in a pool of energon.

The opening was all the badly cut up Killblade needed and he threw all his remaining strength into a sideways twist that drove his right blade deep into Ironhide's chassis from the leg joint up, then used the rest of the momentum to bring the larger warrior to his back. The blue bladewarrior was on his wheels and his good blade pressed between Ironhide's optics in a flash.

**"Yeild?"**

**"Yield,"** Ironhide grunted, taking the then offered hand to get up, a sure sign that he was not angered by the result. **"You've improved, youngster. I'll be sure not to take it so easy on you next time,"** he rumbled with a look in his optic that made it clear he was teasing as the two limped toward their primary audience. Sarah had not noticed that Chromia had been standing behind them since a few minutes into the match, and was now smirking with obvious mirth as she accepted her from Jolt.

**"My protégé wiped the ground with you, my plasma,"** she teased. **"You haven't gone soft, have you?"** she continued as she brought a basic field repair kit out of subspace and began clamping off the leaking energon lines to make him safe for Sarah.

**"Hardly,"** he rumbled in good nature. **"I wanted him to look good for his medic,"** he motioned slightly to where Jolt was tending Killblade's injuries with _far_ more touching and caressing than needed. **"Youngster's good though. You did good with him,"** he smiled at Chromia, accepting the cloths to wipe his armor clean of the organic hazard that was his life energy.

Sarah had been shifted to Chromia's shoulder, safely strapped in with cables as her mech's mate finished tending to the injuries that needed immediate attention. Ironhide focused on her with a sly grin. "You overloaded at the perfect moment to distract me. The only reason I went down," he teased. "Otherwise I would have triumphed. Did Jolt enjoy his treat?"

Sarah laughed a bit drunkenly, still sharing-dazed. "He seemed impressed and said I was far different than Shekat."

"Of course, you have a fighting spark," Chromia quirked a grin at her and helped Ironhide to his pedes before inspecting his chassis for any stray bits of energon and cleaning them off before handing Sarah back. "Shekat has incredible sexual energy, but no spice. You have a wonderful balance."

"You're _my_ human," Ironhide rumbled. "He can get his own."

"Oh, I like that description - always your spicy socket," Sarah purred, caressing the seam in the chassis she was held against, nowhere near sated in sharing after having watched her mech fight so skillfully.

**"I think she wants to ride a spike. _Now_,"** Ironhide rumbled as his cables slid along her body, teasing the swollen lips of her sex without pressing inside.

"His or mine?" Chromia rumbled deeply, reaching up to stroke the trembling human.

Sarah gasped at the offer. "I've wanted to ride yours since I met you, Chromia," she said in a near moan. ~Yes!~ Sarah exclaimed in triumph to Ironhide before Chromia's cable merged with her mate's.

"Then my dear plasma gets to spike me," Chromia leaned forward to claim her mech's mouth in a heated kiss. ~It's so good to be together again.~

Ironhide rumbled in approval, claiming her mouth in return in their age old struggle for dominance that Chromia nearly _always_ won. ~Wonderful, to be with you, to share Sarah together and to be the one spiking for a change,~ he added with an internal chuckle.

~As if your spike lacks attention,~ Chromia and Sarah teased in near-unison, causing both to laugh hard even as they wanted to get to the 'facing.

Checking quickly to make sure Sarah was secure, he growled and lowered Chromia to the ground with rough passion before spreading her powerful thighs with his knees. Chromia's knowledgeable fingers slid along his chest, sliding into seams and setting off the tactile sensors he rarely turned on when he wasn't in a berth with someone.

~I intend to give it even more attention now,~ he rumbled, moving to put his ancient face between his mate's well armored thighs to hum against her interface panel, his own fingers finding every sensor along her plates.

Chromia moaned and pressed into his touch, her panel sliding open and spike quickly sliding out and pressurizing. ~You know I enjoy your spike,~ she shuddered and reached for Sarah, eager to pleasure the woman with her own fingers before her spike.

Ironhide gave his trademark grunt in response, and then swallowed Chromia's spike with a wicked look on his optics, while thrusting three thick fingers into her valve.

Chromia held Sarah so she could watch the luridly erotic movements, cables pulling her thighs wide open as two of them twisted together and drove into her exposed sex, hard and deep, just as she loved it.

~Primus!~ Ironhide moaned around the spike in his mouth. ~~You two are trying to give me a spark attack?~

~Just giving you an extra good charge after fighting the youngster,~ Sarah answered breathlessly even in her mind, her body _so_ ready to be impaled hard by her lover's mate, to climax as hot fluid shot forcefully into her.

~Don't let him fool you. He _loves_ watching,~ Chromia snickered and began to thrust into her mate's mouth. ~Loves to feel the slide of my cables in an out of a space he's so intimate with. Sometimes he can overload just from the visuals.~

Sarah's only response was a groan at her own visuals, watching sensuous and smooth cables moving in and out of her exposed and spread body to her to mimic the movement of the Chromia's spike in her lover's mouth. She was completely unaware of the appreciative crowd that had paused to watch the two ancient warriors and the socket they were sharing with, having their own visual feast.

~You are unbearably hot,~ Ironhide rumbled, feeding her what he was seeing and feeling. ~Come, my pretty one. I want you good and relaxed when you feel Chromia's spike for the first time.~

As if on command, Sarah let out another loud moan, a flood of energy pouring into both sparks as she was caught up in the glorious dance of sensation feedback.

~Very good,~ Chromia moaned deeply across the link, her hips thrusting up hard but holding her overload in check. ~Back off, my plasma. I want to be inside her before she finishes.~

Ironhide did as commanded, a wide smirk on his faceplates at how much his mate was enjoying the little organic he found so thoroughly satisfying despite her issues with being a first generation socket with a youngling. He knelt and pulled up Chromia's hips slightly, poising his own quivering spike at the entrance to his mate's valve, teasing the sensors at its outer edge with circular movements.

Chromia wasted no time in pulling her cables out and thrusting Sarah down roughly on her resized spike before the human had finished quivering, even as Ironhide thrust deep into his mate with a groan of shared pleasure. Holding down her hips so she could only move a little, he began a pounding pace that would quickly bring them to overload and Sarah to a second, even more brilliant climax with them.

* * *

Not far away Jolt keened in ecstasy, his body stiffening above Killblade's as his valve was thrust into a few last times before the larger mech grunted and grabbed his hips to burry himself as deeply in the electric blue mech as he could to shoot his transfluid into Jolt's welcoming body.

The warrior-medic buried his face in the intimate space between his lover's shoulder and cheek flange, venting furiously as intakes and fans attempted to cool down his severely overheated frame.

::I want to feel your spark tonight,:: he surprised himself by murmuring. The mechs from Protihex notoriously slow in progressing to greater intimacy, but his desire was so vivid that he simply could not contain it behind proper mating customs. It wasn't as if he hadn't known Killblade long, and more physical intimacies were long familiar to both of them.

The mech under him shuddered and slid his armors around him, holding him tightly.

::Then it is yours, Jolt,:: Killblade whispered in awe, stroking Jolt's back struts as they both came down from the spike/valve overload and cooled enough to think again.

::It's finally hitting me just how much safer we finally are. There are so many of us here now, and the 'Cons are in such a weaker position. Everyone has hope,:: Jolt tried to explain, giving the mech underneath him a tender kiss that was warmly and eagerly returned.

::Yes, we are,:: the frontliner rumbled, still stroking him, reluctant to let go even though he also wanted to get to his pedes so they could get to one of their newly assigned quarters where they felt safe enough to expose such a vulnerable part of themselves. ::Safe enough to court, maybe even bond ... eventually.::

::Yes, exactly,:: the electric blue mech whispered over the comm, nibbling on the bladewarrior's neck cabling. ::Your place or mine? Or perhaps a private room in medbay since I go on call in a couple of joor. It would be nice not to have to move unless we had to.::

::Medbay works for me, as long as you stay between me and Ratchet,:: Killblade teased and released Jolt to pull off his spike and stand.

::Yes, I have a story to tell you about Ratchet, but first things are first. Race you there!.:: Jolt transformed into his sleek Audi TT Coupe Quatro and sped toward medbay with a squeal of tires that drew amused looks from many still enjoying the night. Killblade's Mercedes Benz McLaren alt was on his bumper in a sparkbeat, the larger mech's more powerful engine easily keeping pace, though he didn't try to do more than brush up against Jolt's side.

Their fields brushed against one another before merging together, the fast drive becoming yet another form of foreplay to what was to come. It was driving Killblade crazy. He wanted the mech next to him so badly his entire frame ached, and not just physically. He'd never shown his spark to anyone, not as a lover. It was terrifying and exhilarating all at once that the mech he wanted so much wanted his spark so soon after making the effort to court him properly. He'd expected to take hundreds of vorns to get to this stage.

Jolt transformed before coming to a full stop, grabbing Killblade who had done the same to pull him down for a bruising kiss while attempting to walk backwards through the medbay doors.

::Primus you're addicting!:: Killblade groaned and picked up the smaller mech. ::Where?::

**"Down, one of the stasis rooms,"** Jolt wound his arms around Killblade's neck and continued kissing him fiercely Neither kept their hands to themselves on the short ride, and as soon as they entered the room Killblade shoved Jolt up against the wall and lifted him up so their mouths were even. His glossa stroked against Jolt's lips for entry, which were eagerly opened as the smaller medic eagerly wrapped his legs around his lover.

::Never have done this, haven't opened for anyone but a medic. You?:: Jolt admitted, beginning to shake with anticipation in the bladewarrior's strong arms.

::Me either,:: he was all but panting through his vents as he rubbed his closed interface panels together with a rough desperation completely at odds with the intense overload he'd had only moments before. ::I know about it from the Twins.::

::You sure you want to do this?:: Jolt asked, hardly able to keep his chestplates together any longer. His spark felt as though it were lunging against its casing to get to the warrior who held him.

::Yes,:: Killblade answered with the same fierce certainty he had in battle and shifted away from the way, wrapping his arms around Jolt to support him on the short walk to the berth. ::More than anything,:: he added as he made a carefully calculated roll to put Jolt above him when they stilled. His chest plates were already unlatched, ready to slide open.

::Good,:: Jolt stared into his friend and lover's optics, extending his field completely around the warrior as he leaned down to slide his glossa between the warrior's lips. His own plates slid apart, though his spark chamber had not yet spiraled open. ::I know that we need to go really slow and just let the coronas merge the first time. It can be as painful and damaging as it can be wonderful.::

He felt Killblade nod, extending his own field to merge with Jolt's and shuddered at the pleasure in the simple contact of their ambient operating energy. Off-lining his optics briefly, Killblade opened his chest fully, his spark chamber raising up, presenting itself to the mech above him before spiraling open, bathing the room and Jolt's electric blue frame in brilliant silver-white light. A spark as strong and fearless as the mech it sustained.

Jolt offered a silent prayer to Primus thanking him for bringing them to a place safe enough to risk their sparks for more than just war, and felt his own spark chamber lift and spiral open in response to his lover, almost without a conscious order. His spark was far ahead of his processors in terms of what he wanted. The light from a purple-red corona around a bright white spark joined the intense light already shining from Killblade's chest. Despite being an arm-span apart, both sparks were extending their coronas and sending out tendrils to the other, seeking the contact of the spark they were drawn to.

Jolt slowly lowered himself, letting out a moan as the tendrils finally touched and intertwined as though to pull them together. His frame began to shake as the most intense brush of pleasure he had ever felt caressed the deepest, most real part of himself. He locked his joints in his arms to prevent any further downward movement, allowing them to become accustomed to the new sensations that were far more than physical.

Under him, Killblade was shaking, his armor clicking, burningly hot as he pushed his chest upwards, wanting more of that processor-searing sensation. He slid his arms up Jolt's back, relishing the whimpers and moans the smaller mech offered as the outer edges of their sparks touched. All he could think about was how much better it would be when they got closer, when more of their energy mixed.

Fighting for control lest he damage them both, the medic slowly lowered himself further, keens of ecstasy and joy echoing through the soundproofed room as the tendrils finally brought their coronas fully into contact, bright white slowly swirling into red-purple.

**"More!"** Killblade demanded, his vocalizer thick with static, his systems already primed for an overload well before their sparks touched. **"Jolt,"** he gasped out, barely able to form even that much coherent thought against the intensely new pleasure rushing through him. **"Please. So close."**

Everything in Jolt screamed yes to the plea. Everything except the medic protocols that warned against going much further on a first merge. Jolt vented furiously, his frame burning up even as he continued to keen, unable to vocalize anything coherent.

::Just a little bit more. Any more is too dangerous the first time,:: Jolt gasped through the comm, lowering himself so the outer layer of their spark cores touched and merged.

Killblade's keen went to a scream of raw sensation, his optics flaring brightly. His hips bucked against Jolt's hard as the energy build up unleashed in him in an explosive sizzle and flare of his spark, offering some of that energy to tip his lover over the edge of this unique bliss.

When Jolt's systems cycled back online, he was sprawled on his lover, their chambers and chestplates closed. Echoes of his first spark overload were still washing through his systems in gentle ripples of pleasure, love, and well-being. Killblade's fingers were making small, lazy movements across his back, the larger warrior not really on line, but not completely out either.

The contentment to remain where he was he could feel mirrored under him. Even though they'd often go half a dozen rounds, this single overload had wiped both of them out in the most pleasant way.

If this was barely touching, what would a full merge be like?


	57. DDG All Stories:  International Politics

**Fandom: **Transformers Bayverse  
**Author: **gatekat and femme4jack on LJ  
**Pairing: **None  
**Rating: **PG-13  
**Codes: **Slash, Xeno (Transformer/Human)  
**Summary: **With sixty-one Autobots on Earth and most of his senior officers on planet, Prime calls a meeting to debate the politics of intervention they will officially hold to with the humans.  
**Notes:** Written in the Dathanna de Gray fanverse (community .livejournal .com/ tf_socket_fics)  
"text" organic language  
**"text"** translated Cybertronian.  
~text~ bond/cable talk  
::comm chatter:  


* * *

**Hunting Pleasure 24  
Frontliners 9  
Consent and Control 6  
Fire and Fear 4  
International Politics**

* * *

Laserbeak was settled against the ceiling of the largest conference room on the Autobot base long before the meeting began. Two full solar cycles before, to be precise. Soundwave had deemed that whatever meeting had the entire Autobot and fleshbag population so keyed up had to be big.

Prime, Jazz, Prowl, Chromia and Ratchet were likely to be at every Autobot meeting by virtue of rank. Ironhide by virtue of experience and being Prime's bodyguard. The human leader, Lennox, because the Autobots treated the warriors of those disgusting creatures as equals.

But when Silverbolt walked in next to Blaster, the spy perked up considerably. Those two, while they had the rank to be at a command meeting, never actually were.

Red Alert? Red Alert? What in the name of Primus could be going on to get their glitched security director out of his lair? And without his bodyguard no less, though he was in the custody of that psychotic survivalist triple-changer, Springer.

If only they could take out this room right now, the Autobot cause would be crippled beyond any chance of recovery. This was almost every officer they had on Earth in one room and several of their best warriors.

~Advantage: understood,~ Soundwave informed her. ~Mission: success improbable.~

Prime stood and quickly got everyone's attention, though he had to make a small sound to get Jazz to look at him instead of molesting Prowl's sensor wings.

Scuttlebutt had it that Prime was calling for a caucus on Earth. If so, it would explain those in attendance.

"Thank you for your time," Prime's deep, resonant voice washed over them all, and even made Laserbeak shiver. "It has been determined that it will take a minimum of two vorns to terraform Venus, and half a vorn to build a orbital city. Thus Earth will be our home for the immediate future. This meeting is to determine the policies we will hold towards Earth, its people and governments for the next vorn."

"We have important decisions to make," Prime continued, "decisions that will affect our future and the future of this planet. We currently have a set of treaties governing and tightly controlling our activities, as well as preventing our weapons technology from landing in the hands of one or more world powers. The treaties were logical in the short term, when we were temporary guests on this planet."

Prime paused, looking at each leader in the room. "The basic question before us is whether our vows to protect sentient life, to protect the weak, extends to protecting weaker human groups on this planet from stronger, or protecting other sentient species on this world from humanity. We must decide whether we intervene in politics, how we do so without inviting retaliation by major military powers who _do_ have the power to do significant damage to us, and when it is appropriate to make such an intervention. Ultimately I will make that decision, but I am in need of the wisdom and experience of everyone present."

Prime sat, opening the floor.

To no one's surprise, Ratchet was the first to speak. "There are six confirmed socket-quality organic species on this world other than the humans, every one of them endangered by the human race. Another twenty are still being investigated. It is our duty to protect those who can not protect themselves."

"While I sympathize with their plight," Springer spoke up, "I joined this faction to fight the fragging 'Cons and to protect organics from Megatron's insanity. We can't be the police force for every life-bearing planet on this end of the Universe. It's the nature of organic life for some species to be stronger than others. We can't make these kind of decisions out of pity or emotions."

"When did I say anything about every life-bearing planet?" Ratchet challenged him. "We live _here_. We have a duty to protect those on the worlds we actually live on from each other when need be."

"And how do you propose doing that in a manner that doesn't alienate the most powerful of those species from us? The primary threat to the other sentients on this planet is human overpopulation and impoverished humans simply trying to survive. Do you propose culling the human population to make room for other sentients to continue to evolve?" Springer countered.

"Ah'd use the same population control methods we have on every species that unbalances the ecosystems we've guarded," Jazz spoke up calmly. "They can't blame us for something they won't even notice until it's over."

"It is a logical method, though longer-range than we seem to intend to remain here," Prowl looked to Prime.

"Now wait just a God damn minute," Will Lennox was on his feet, glaring daggers at Jazz and Prowl. "Are you seriously considering intentionally killing off members of my species? What the fuck gives you the right to even begin thinking about making those kind of decisions about us? How would you decide which humans to kill off, which ones are more valuable than others. It is the most arrogant, sick, disgusting..."

"Major," Prime interrupted, taking two steps to where he was standing and kneeling in front of him "it is our practice to put every option on the table, most of which will never be seriously considered. By doing so, we come up with options we may never have considered."

Will continued to glare, but shut his mouth, pointedly ignoring Ironhide when he offered his hand to his socket.

"It doesn't kill anyone," Ratchet added gently. "It merely limits species fertility so those who expire naturally reduce the overall population."

"Not that different than solutions your own United Nations and population control advocates in your own species have discussed," Chromia added.

"So who are you going to take the right to have children away from? Annabelle? These are real people's lives you are talking about fucking with. Not just numbers," Will muttered, his arms crossed, though obviously calming.

"Real people whose poverty would be reduced, who would have more resources to live on, who would not be competing with an unsustainable number of others for survival," Ratchet explained patiently.

"Socket fertility is already controlled," Jazz pointed out, his arms crossed. "And no one would be denied a single child. Many would have two. It's kinder than some policies already in place by your governments. Young aren't being conceived if they will just be destroyed before or right after birth. There is no trauma to the adult. Fertility will just turn off naturally once a child or two are born."

"Also, no children will be conceived unless both desire it," Silverbolt spoke up, his voice gentle. "Teenage pregnancy, unwanted pregnancy, rape pregnancy will all be a thing of the past. Every child will be one that was desired by both parties. How can that be a bad thing?"

"And you don't think humans would notice that suddenly there were no more unwanted pregnancies and their fertility turned off after 2? The governments would suspect you immediately. I just don't think it is a decision you should make by yourselves," Will said quietly, sounding slightly unconvinced of himself.

"It is simply one of many options," Prime reminded him. "I would welcome your options to protect all sentient species on Earth as I welcome all options my officers present."

Ironhide gave his socket a concerned look, but then spoke, "Population control would help both humans and other sentients in the long run, but what about the ones who are dying now? Many of the endangered species are also in some of the most genocidal war zones. There are places where they are deliberately kidnapping children and brutally conditioning them to be soldiers. Even the 'Cons at their worst had some amount of care for younglings."

"My agents have begun investigating those areas, putting together a priority listing for action, covert or overt," Jazz said.

Prowl nodded slightly. "Once we have been publicly acknowledged, at least to all governments, we can be invited to intervene. Until then, we cultivate local contacts and gather intel to move the orn we have official authority to."

Blaster spoke next, far more serious than his normal demeanor. "I want to play what the humans call devils advocate on this. War is brutal, but it is also an inevitable method of population control for a species that has gotten out of balance. Why would we intervene in the internal problems on humans, other than protecting the other sentient lifeforms, which we could do by simply relocating them?"

"Until the terraforming of Venus is complete, there will be nowhere to relocate any sustainable population," Prowl answered simply. "For the immediate future, we do need to protect them where they are unless there are suitable lands I am not aware of."

"There are plenty of unused lands that our terraforming technology could work very quickly on, unlike Venus," Blaster argued. "The Australian Outback, the Desert Southwest in the US, the Sahara and Gobi deserts, parts of Mongolia and Siberia and other remote parts of Asia. We could even locate some of the species with very few numbers left on this island. We could put entire populations in stasis until a safe place could be found for them. There are many options that do not require our intervention in human politics."

"Africa and Asia are two of the worst areas of conflict," Jazz pointed out. "The US, Australia, and China have too much control over their lands for us to work there without being under the scrutiny of those governments."

"Securing dome preserves in Antarctica, Mongolia and Siberia would be the most efficient use of resources," Red Alert piped up.

"However, it does mean potential forceful relocation of entire species from their homes," Prowl pointed out. "Is one species that much more important than all the others?"

"It would be if it kept us more secure with our allies. They might even support the effort," Red Alert continued. "Involving our allies in these decisions is far less risky."

**"Don't."** Prowl glanced at his bonded before Jazz could speak up.

"I am well aware of your arguments on the matter, Jazz." Prime added. "They will be taken into consideration." He looked around the table. "Are there any further ideas for dealing with the conflict between humans and other sentients here?"

"We could provide the other organics with the means to hold their own," Chromia added with a flicker of her armor.

"Tactically hazardous," Prowl objected. "It could easily turn all human governments against us faster than any other option."

"Wait a moment," Lennox cut in again. "What are the arguments for intervening that aren't being said?" he asked, looking directly at Jazz. "You are still likely to need NEST ops teams on some of these missions, if only for interacting with terrified humans. I want to know what isn't being spoken."

"That I don't value the dominant species in any situation," he answered. "Genetically speaking, the human race is very close to the end. You are not a good choice to back in the long run. Your behavior as a species makes you ill-suited for long-term survival as well."

"You know," Ironhide said softly before Will could explode, "Some might say the same about our own. How many are dead because of us? We are on the verge of extinction by the choices we have made."

"By time frame or in all?" Jazz asked evenly. "I'm well aware that it's not a popular opinion and never been _used_. It's still my opinion."

Without saying a word Prowl reached over and began to lightly stroke Jazz's nearest head fin, bringing his systems down a couple notches. "Ironhide, you also know full well the difference between a sparked race and a biological one when it comes to survivability. For humanity to survive in the long term, it will have to directly manipulate it's genetic code to expand it. That is also very close to within their own capabilities."

"I wonder what your human socket would think of your opinion about his species," Ironhide rumbled, picking Will up, whether to sooth his socket or himself it wasn't certain. "Or would you just program him so it wouldn't bother him?"

"Ironhide," Prime rumbled. "Personal attacks are unbecoming an Autobot."

"It's all right, Prime," Jazz waved the defense off. "He's still pissed about the ideas his socket got from the kidnapping event. You know he's never really trusted me."

Prime gave both officers a warning look before rubbing his forehelm in an all too familiar expression of frustration from him.

"I want logical, non emotional arguments for and against political and military interventions to protect sentient species including oppressed human populations at risk of genocide. I don't simply want opinions. For now, we need the alliance with human military powers. That is a non-negotiable for me as long as the 'Cons are still a threat. We also are still guests on this planet that has suffered because our war came to it. I want solutions that do not alienate our allies, keep the rights of other sentients as a high priority, and which will be positive politically and in terms of public relations when our presence becomes known at large."

Prowl nodded. "Prime, by my calculations, setting up reserves in areas isolated from human population and transporting endangered species, both sentient and animal, would hold the most favorable responses from the human population and governments. There are strong movements to protect endangered life forms. They will most likely view it favorably, particularly as we compensate any locals for land, recourses and labor."

"Have there been any new options since the last time I was on one of these boards?" Springer asked, looking directly at Major Lennox as the only one who hadn't been present multiple times.

Will looked at Springer, and then at Prime, getting his own emotions under control before speaking.

"For all that I'm a soldier, the best solution to ending violence has always been economic development. Eco tourism has also been very successful in protecting endangered species and ecosystems in a manner which also leads to positive economic development for the locals."

The human watched as most of the mechs in the room paused to look it up.

"I can see that working well in areas that are simply poor, but spots like the Congo would need the conflict to be brought under control first," Silverbolt spoke first. "If I'm leery of flying into the area without weapons primed, we can't send in civilians for fun."

"Agreed," Prowl inclined his head slightly. "It would not be difficult to set up the eco tourism in areas of relative peace."

"Of course," Will agreed, "but it could eventually be the difference between all of the failed attempts at ending conflict through invasion my former government has engaged in during the last couple of decades. There is no sense in removing an oppressive regime or intervening in a genocide if there is not some process in place to help those left to develop their economy and to reconcile, and have it somehow be their own idea. My former employers kept trying the same damn process: invade and set up elections, and couldn't understand why the rest of the population formed new militias in response instead of thanking them."

Springer chuckled in response. "That would be the difference between their short term planning and ours."

"Indeed. When we discuss short term plans, that generally means eight vorns or less," Prowl said with utter seriousness that lost a bit of it's edge from Jazz's snickering.

"While this is true, _today_ is for the next vorn," Prime dragged them back to the plan. "Major Lennox, are you aware of methods that are likely to work to calm down wars such as the Congo where numerous human groups and species are at risk of extinction?"

"There is a reason that the US, the UN and even other African nations have hardly been willing to touch it. There are so many external powers involved, and multiple factions within them," Lennox shook his head. "Everyone wants control of the resources in the Easter DRC. The surrounding governments have to be pressured to back off, get out. They keep arming factions, militias keep coming in. And the world powers that are funneling their support through those nations need to be exposed and shamed."

"In the meantime, the initial reports I have indicate that the most effective answer will be to get the official government to invite us in to control the various militias," Jazz spoke quietly, evenly, fully aware that he was suggesting that they insert themselves into a war. "There does not seem to be a significant religious component, unlike the Middle East."

"No, but there is a strong tribal one, which can be even worse. Hutu and Tutsi all over again. Look at the history of Rwanda before you even think about intervening. The Rwandan genocide was really just part of this wider conflict. But yes, being invited in is the best option if you want to intervene," Lennox agreed, fully in his tactical planning mindset, his questions put off for later, when he could speak with Prime alone.

"I will," Jazz agreed. "There will also be a significant on the ground intel gathering before we make any moves. It is one location that will require an extended presence to keep it under control."

"Which means we will be very cautious in presenting the potential that we could be invited to do so," Prime added.

"Why that conflict?" Will asked quietly. "Why there an not other places? My former nation had its reasons to go into certain places and not others, which came down mostly to self interest. I'm part of your nation now. I'm cynical enough to believe it is not simply altruism for sentient organics. What else is in it for you...us?"

Jazz shot Prime a look, silently asking if Prime wanted to explain it or if he should go ahead.

Prime shuttered his optics for a moment, then nodded to Jazz, with a silent comm to _try_ to avoid setting off Ironhide for Will's sake.

::I'll try,:: the silver mech sounded honest in his promise. "In simplest terms, what we get is land and political connections that are in debt to us. With a location that everyone knows will require an extended presence it is all but expected that we will build a base there, station mechs there, and be around for some time. No one will blink that we will be heavily involved in the politics, patrolling, having numbers there. It gives us another foothold on Earth."

"One that makes far more tactical sense than an island in the middle of the Indian Ocean," Will nodded. "I appreciate having it all...or at least that on the table. The need for bases I understand."

"Burma is another we're looking at, as well as Sudan, Somalia, Haiti, Guatemala, Bangladesh, Indonesia and Sri Lanka," Jazz continued when there was to explosion of objection across the conference table. "All top humanitarian nightmares, all situations that once we exist officially that no one will be surprised we show an interest in or should be surprised would ask for our assistance."

Will gave a nod of understanding. "I'm sure we can discuss the pros and cons of those particular conflicts at a future date," he said flatly, turning toward Prime to find out what other shocks he would be dealing with that day.

The large mech nodded his agreement and glanced around, meeting optics to ensure he had everyone's attention. "From each of your divisions, what are your expectations for our integration into Earth's government system?"

Red Alert spoke up first, so calm that it was obvious Inferno must have merged with him a dozen times to prepare him. "I do not need permission to have use of every satellite in orbit. I'm already using them for intel and security, along with Blaster for communications. If you think we should have official sanction for it, go for it, but it won't change what I do. The safety for this planet and our sparklings is more important the sovereignty."

Prime inclined his head. "I intend to add a few satellites of out own, particularly to keep an optic on Soundwave."

"I'd really like to have us classified as friendly military planet-wide," Silverbolt spoke up. "I don't mind giving them an ID ping, but talking to each government to get clearance to fly is a major pain in the afterburners. I think it's reasonable to tell them that we can be called on if needed for natural disasters. We'll be there anyway."

"Quite true," Prime chuckled softly.

"Good for public relations as well," Blaster added with a nod toward Silverbolt. "I do not need anything, but I think offering assistance in unifying their emergency communications grids on a world wide level and offering the tech to make their cell phones connect with it anywhere would be a good thing to offer to take the sting out of the kind of power we will be requesting."

"Agreed," Prime nodded. "A very valuable project, and a simple one for us."

"Improving their earthquake and tsunami warning systems would be fairly simple as well," Prowl suggested. "Given we are acknowledged as a nation by the UN, requesting a permanent seat on the UN Security Council seems reasonable request, given our military and economic power."

"That is one I had planned on insisting upon," Prime nodded in agreement, "with veto power. It is in the planet's best interest that those with the best and most reliable intelligence be on hand to make decisions regarding interventions, which I'm counting on you to demonstrate to them, Jazz.

"Of course, Prime," the silver mech inclined his head.

"With the possible exception of the security council, I would like our sockets to represent us at these bodies," Optimus continued, looking directly at Will. "We need to make it very clear to earth's governments that they are as much a part of our political presence on this planet as we are, and that we are not simply a nation of alien refugees, but also of humans who have chosen to be with us."

"I'll start paying more attention to those with political savvy," Will smiled wryly. "It's not a common trait among those who are drawn here."

"Medical treatments for diseases they can't cure, ways to feed their numbers without destroying the environment will usually score major points, along with disaster relief," Ratchet brought up. "There are enough of them."

"Are we going to try to acquire an embassy in all these countries?" Springer asked.

"Undecided," Prime responded. "If we do, most will be staffed entirely by trusted and trained humans. There are not enough of us to spare, and Ratchet, I plan on using the medical advances, along with the communications ones that Blaster proposes as our negotiating points for the power and positions we are insisting on."

Prime scanned the room, regarding those who had not spoken. "Chromia, Ironhide, Jazz, Will do you have any requests?"

"Ya know everything ah do is out of sight," Jazz shrugged. "Whatever level of intel networking ya want to use as barter ah'll go with."

"I know you'll negotiate new bases when you can, but the Australian Outback is looking very nice to me," Chromia said. "I'd train them, but I know you don't want give weapons or tactics."

"But training our own is a different matter," Prime responded. "Now that we have the resources, I would like the human troops that work with us to be outfitted with the best we can give them, including armor. Your training them will be invaluable, Chromia, along with you, Ironhide."

"Of course, Prime," she inclined her head. "Whatever you wish of us."

Ironhide looked vaguely embarrassed, then met Prime's optics. "If we go into one of the conflict zones where child soldiers are being used, I do not want to see them harmed, regardless of what they are being forced to do. I would like to be involved in their rehabilitation. I've taught so many to kill, it would be a relief to help teach some not to." Ironhide said with his signature grumble, sounding as though he found the assignment distasteful when everyone knew it was just the opposite.

Will smirked and gave the warrior with over-the-top guardian coding a pat.

"I am sure that can be arranged," Prime smiled at his long-time friend. "Are there any more comments on today's subject?"

"I have one last question," Will said, looking at Prime seriously. "What will you do if Earth's major powers say 'no' to the powers you are requesting?"

"I negotiate until they change their minds," he responded just as seriously.

"With bribes or blackmail, depending on what they respond to," Jazz added cheekily.

"Right," Will smirked. "That's what I thought."

Laserbeak watched the meeting breakup with a mixture of disgust and amusement. It was always the same with these sentimental Autobots and their concern for organics and their worlds. Once again they would stretch themselves too thin trying to fix a pathetic planet's problems and save a doomed species from itself. Once again, his master would find ways to take advantage of their emotional weakness.


	58. Naturalists 14: Another form of Pleasure

**Fandom: **Transformers Bayverse  
**Author: **gatekat and femme4jack on LJ  
**Pairing: **Mirage/Hound/Alicia Rodriguez  
**Rating: **NC-17 for mech/female  
**Codes: **Het, Xeno (Transformer/Human)  
**Summary: **Alicia gives Mirage's new alt mode some loving.  
**Notes: **Written in the Dathanna de Gray fanverse (community .livejournal .com/ tf_socket_fics)  
**"text"** translated Cybertronian.  
"text" organic languages  
~text~ bond talk  
::text:: comm chatter  
BMW Concept Vision Efficientdynamics http: / www. lincah. com / 2009-bmw-vision-efficientdynamics-concept  
Alicia's costume or http : / funnypicblast. com / wp-content /imgdir / 2008_09 /sexy-policewoman-pic3. jpg and http: / gadgether .com / wp-content / uploads / 2010/02 /sexy-police-woman-shoes. jpg remove all spaces (ff . net does not allow links in stories)

Spanish Translations:  
Ay Mierda - Oh Shit!

* * *

****

The Naturalists 14: Another Form of Pleasure

* * *

Mirage was enjoying a leisurely cruise around Diego Garcia in his new alt, one selected especially for Hound, though the noble had no problem admitting that the BMW Concept Vision Efficientdynamics suited him quite nicely as well. Sleek, advanced and utterly unique among his kind.

He was heading south past the airstrip, where the island narrowed to just a small isthmus, and finally allowed himself to open up and test the speed of his new form, smoothly riding the corner at the SW side of the horseshoe at speeds well over 250 mph. He slowed down as he approached Turtle Cove where he and Hound had first met Alicia, only to be surprised by the flashing lights of a police car on his tale.

The ID ping told him it was Prowl, which wasn't a surprise. Streetwise wasn't much on enforcing laws like this and Nightbeat wasn't on Earth yet. He quickly slowed in a cloud of sandy dust and pulled over, wondering what was going on as he transformed per Cybertronian expectations.

Prowl's passenger door opened, and the first thing he saw were two very familiar long organic legs, with a set of stylized police-themed stiletto heals, complete with the flashing lights. He cycled his optics once, and then again as Alicia emerged from Prowl wearing a leather police officer costume that barely contained her breasts that were ready to spill from the v-shaped split that went from her shoulders to below her navel. The skirt barely covered her ass. Her eyes were hidden by dark mirrored sunglasses. In one hand she held a baton that she swung several times before she stood with her legs spread wide, her hands on her hips, giving a nod at Prowl to transform.

~What is going on?~ Mirage demanded with a rush of arousal.

Prowl had to click sharply several times to bring Mirage's attention off his socket enough to pay attention to the Enforcer.

"I had planned to cite you on a speed violation, Mirage, but upon examination, I'm citing you for a gross violation of code 48271gama6 on the proper hygiene and upkeep of your frame, and ordering you to hand over control of your alt form to my assistant to take you to the location where you will receive your punishment." Prowl replied in an emotionless, dry tone.

**"What!"** Mirage felt himself expand his armor indigently as he glared at the larger mech.

**"Look at yourself, mech,"** Prowl ordered sharply, indicating the splatters of thick, green wetlands mud and muck that were suddenly dripping from Mirage's previously pristine frame.

~Hound...~ he rumbled across the bond at his holographically talented bonded, irritation mingled with a sense of 'whatever you're doing this for, I better enjoy it'.

**"Yes, Sir,"** the noble murmured and folded himself into his alt, opened the driver's side door and switched all but emergency overrides to manual.

Alicia resumed hitting her baton on her hand as she walked toward Mirage with a swing to her hips. Before she reached the door, she paused a moment and leaned sexily against his hood, turning back toward Prowl who was still watching.

"Thank you officer," she said in a low, sultry voice. "I'll take it from here and report to you when his punishment is complete."

Prowl gave her a nod and transformed and she slid into the drivers seat and closed the door.

"What are you up to?" Mirage demanded as she fastened the seat belt and ran her hands around the steering wheel.

"Punishing you," she purred, her hand suggestive caressing his stick shift. "You have been a very, very naughty mech." She looked for the starter and the keys, and found there were neither, but then smiled when she realized that the engine was already silently running. Licking her lips, she put him into reverse, turned back toward base, and then peeled out onto the road.

"Now have I?" he purred back, enjoying the warmth of her on his seat. "You know, I've always believed that if I'm going to accept a punishment, I should truly earn it."

"You think so?" she asked, accelerating to over 100mph without a thought thanks to his high powered engine, fully trusting him to take control if it was needed, but getting off on the control all the same. "And just _how_ do you plan on earning it, miscreant?"

"By getting properly messy," he hummed and spun around as he took control back, pushing his speed to it's limit. Cables snaked out from the seat and dashboard along with a connector cable. "And making you need the wash more than I do."

Alicia gasped and actually squealed in delight at the change of plans and speed, holding on tight to the wheel that no longer had any use out of both delicious fear of the speed and arousal that had been running hot ever since she put on the costume. "You will pay, noble," she tried to growl even as her body trembled.

"But not before I make it worth the penalty, my pretty enforcer," he rumbled. Some cables strapped her tightly against his seat while others spread her legs. One pressed against her lips, others slid under her uniform to fondle her breasts and up her legs.

Alicia put up a token fight, but she was already far too turned on to give the cable at her lips more than just a few nips before she was sucking and running her tongue along it wantonly. Her skirt was riding so high that it was almost entirely her bare ass on his seat, which she pressed into the soft warmth.

"I think that will wait until you beg," Mirage crooned smugly as his cables stroked and explored her as if she was a brand new human lover. "I will not have it said I am not a good lover."

~No, but you will have be said that disobeyed a direct order from your TIC, and now you are on the run from justice,~ she teased while she got off on sucking his cable, hoping there were at least a few sensors there to enjoy her efforts. She closed her eyes and gave low moan at the slow, sensuous exploration of her body. ~Holy Mother, it feels good like this, with you driving so fast. Why haven't we done it this way before, love?~

"Because it's dangerous," he chuckled. "If you distract me too much we could end up crashing."

She took her lips off of the cable for a moment and smirked. "You mean to tell me that my super advanced, millions of years old alien lover doesn't have the processor power to drive fast and overload at the same time? I'm so disillusioned," she giggled, then suggestively began moving her lips up and down the cable, wondering just where it was he kept his spike and valve in this form...and whether it was possible to...or for Hound to...and wasn't that a naughty thought.

~You are having entirely too much fun speculating,~ Mirage chuckled, letting her feel the pleasure she was causing him. ~It's inside, and no, we haven't. He has overloaded,~ he slid a thick cable into her sex and began to thrust, ~me in alt though, which I'm sure is where this little idea came from.~

Alicia's much slower processors were no longer capable of teasing while being thrust into by her lover whose speed had approached 300mph on the lonely road running along the large u-shaped island. Everything went by in a streak of color as she moaned and rocked her hips into the thrusting cable that felt so smooth and warm. His metal felt better than flesh, and she wanted to feel the heat of his frame all over her body.

In response more cables came out, rubbing against her and gently cocooning her in his warmth.

"Come for me, my lovely socket," Mirage rumbled, vibrating around her, from the seat, to the cables to the very air inside his cab. "I know you want to."

As if on command, her body convulsed, clenching rhythmically on his cable as tingles of pleasure rushed through her body. She heard herself moan his name along with the Saints and the Virgin even as his subtle commands through the cable into her nervous system extended her orgasm for several minutes of bliss-filled writhing _inside_ her lover who was also inside of her.

Slowly, she came back to reality to find the cables sliding away and the buildings at the edge of the base visible at a more sedate driving speed.

"I'm ready for my punishment, officer," Mirage rumbled, audibly amused.

"Mmmmm" was all she could manage to say at first, lazily running her hands over his interior...his oh so sexy interior that she had spent hardly any time enjoying...something which was going to remedied many times over in the future.

"I don't think I can drive you where we were going ... too sharing-blissed. Take us to the west side of Hang 10 where you will find the instruments of your torture, gorgeous."

"As you command, officer," he rumbled, just a little smug, and drove at a suitably sedate speed, stopping far too soon for Alicia's tastes, until she remembered just what she was going to do to him.

Running her fingers through her now wild hair, she made a few adjustments to her costume, and replaced her stilettos that had somehow managed to make it to the floor on the passenger side. She took a few deep breaths and slid sensuously out of her lover as his futuristic door silently glided shut from above.

The water in the hose and that of the tank it was attached to were already nicely warm from the baking sun. A cool water hose also ran from inside the building. She set to filling the buckets, and then, on impulse, took the cold water hose and turned it on, spraying herself down from head to toe to fully awaken her blissed out mind to the task at hand.

She turned to find her noble lover with doors closed and waiting for her, a slight tremor of excitement making his frame creek and moan. Across the strengthening socket bond she could feel it as well; anticipation, eagerness for what was coming, and a distinct sense of familiarity, both in giving and receiving.

Alicia walked around Mirage, considering every sensuous curve and angle of his new alt form. Still dripping, the leather of her skin tight her costume was now clearly showing her nipples as she leaned over his hood.

"So," the purred with a sly smile. "Why don't you tell me what gets you off about a real, Towers detailing job. I know a parking lot on Diego Garcia is a far cry from it, but I want to try to make you forget what backwater planet you are stuck on today."

A hard rev greeted her statement. ~The meticulous attention, the thought of flaunting it, of being envied by my peers,~ he used the more intimate connection of the socket bond to include some of the cultural elements, of the reality that those looks were as close to praise as he'd been raised to know. ~To be the absolute, undivided center of someone's attention for several joor is an intense pleasure.~

~Perfect, because several joor of my undivided attention was just what I was planning on,~ Alicia's sultry tone barely covered up her nearly giddy excitement that the plans she and Hound had laid were coming to fruition so beautifully.

"It's a hot day," she stated the obvious. "Do you prefer warm or cool water, love?"

"Cool," he rumbled, his systems heating up in response to her and the intention laid out for the afternoon. "Where's Hound?" he asked, even though he knew his bonded was nearby.

"Here," Hound rumbled, walking around the corner. "To watch, unless she needs my help building you up to a nice slow overload, which she assures me she will be able to accomplish on her own."

Alicia slid off of Mirage's hood with an sensuous caress, and then got the cooler hose and turned it on, showering Mirage with first a cool mist and then a more powerful spray over every last inch including underneath, their growing bond wide open and allowing her to feel what he enjoyed the most. Not as intensely as when they were connected by cable, but delectable nonetheless.

"I believe she can," Mirage said smoothly, his chassis leaning a bit into the water when it felt particularly good near the hottest parts of his undercarriage. "Such small, sensitive fingers to get in where I'm hardly ever clean."

Alicia quickly abandoned the stilettos, preferring the feel on the cool water on her feet. She got her first bucket of soapy water. It wasn't just any soap. She had managed to procure a blend that was as rare these days as the finest aged high grade, one that even Sunstreaker couldn't get his hands on from the mech who had the supply. But Mirage was one of Jazz's favorites, and Alicia was very convincing. She didn't tell him, simply took out a natural sponge and began lathering him up in luxurious circles, starting on his hood, making sure that as much of her body made contact with him as possible as he made slow progress over his frame.

A low, vibrant moan echoed across the space, and Hound revved deeply in response. Across both bonds flowed surprise and an exquisite pleasure that had nothing to do with touch.

"Y-You really went all out," Mirage managed to say out loud.

"You deserve the best," she said simply as she continued to wash every inch of his frame, climbing on his hood to reach his mostly clear roof that on a human automobile would have been glass, but on him was a nearly impenetrable nanite-grown transparent alloy. She let the soap work itself in, filling the humid air with a decidedly alien scent that made her feel light headed in the right way.

When she had waited what Jazz had said was the appropriate amount of time, she turned the sprayer on again on mist, and allowed it to gently flow off of him, taking away every spec of dirt, sand, and grime.

The swirling rush of pleasure that crept up from the bond was a shade of new to the now familiar sense of pre-overload from her noble. He didn't hold back the soft sounds and near-keening the sensations dragged from him, or how much he wanted this to continue in a blissful forever.

Alicia attention had been fully on her noble spy the first wash, and it wasn't until she went to get her next tool of loving torture that she saw the gathered crowd. If the scent was doing something to her, there was no doubt about its affect on the audience. She gave everyone a smirk, and then ran the sponge down her own body for good measure, shaking out her hair. She returned to Mirage with a clean bucket of cool water with more of the aromatic soap. This time her tool was not a sponge, but what was affectionately known as the mechanics best friend - a toothbrush, which she began to use on every little crevice she could find on her lover, scrubbing away grime that rarely if ever got removed even by the best trip to the washracks.

Mirage's EM field flared sharply several times, and never settled down completely. It danced across her skin, caressed her socket and pleasure centers, and tuned her in as much as their bond to just how close he was to loosing control.

"Who ... taught you..." Mirage managed to groan unabashedly, relishing the way other Autobots were looking at him, jealous of the attention his socket was giving him and the blatant sign of favoritism by Jazz in the special soap.

She shivered as his field caressed her yet again, making her hair stand on end briefly. "Mikaela suggested toothbrush as a detailing tool, if that is what you mean. The rest...you're showing me what's feeling good. I'm just following along," she said sweetly as found a place deep in his wheel-well to clean.

A crackle of energy flashed down his chassis and his energy field lashed out sharply, enveloping her with the ecstasy of the touch that had tipped the balance and sent his pleasure into overload.

"Wow," she whispered from where she had landed flat on her ass from the feedback she had received without even being plugged in. "I'm really not close to finishing yet, Mirage. You up to more?"

"Yes," came out as more growl than word, his engine revving hot and hard in anticipation.

Hound just smiled as he leaned against a building and watched.

She adjusted her costume, realizing that one of her breasts had slipped out. It was tempting to simply remove the leather, to feel his heat against her naked body while she pampered him. She looked back at their audience with a smirk. Hound looked blissed out, enjoying Mirage's pleasure through their bond.

~I'm going to do this for you, too. Maybe not today, but soon,~ she promised the scout.

~You'll need to be very well rested, with how _deep_ my grill is,~ he replied with a nearly breathless quality to the thought of her fingers in his most sensitive externals, right over his sensory suite.

~I'm sure I will, baby,~ she laughed outloud and within, ~because I intend to pleasure every inch of that deep grill of yours the next chance I have, but I have some special plans for a gorgeous noble who needs some attention to his undercarriage, so bring me that special surprise I borrowed from maintenance, will you?~

Hound grinned and walked over to where Mirage was quivering and Alicia stood with a smirk and put the mechanics creeper stool on the ground. He then brought her another bucket, and several different kinds of brushes. She placed everything where it would be accessible and then slid herself underneath Mirage's frame with a quiet giggle of anticipation.

Mirage's intakes stuttered and his engine nearly stalled when she began to work on the areas that really were dirty, starting with the inside of his bumper. She could feel another overload building in him, and that he wasn't resisting it in the least.

Alicia felt herself quickly becoming filthy as she tended to each and every crevice in which dirt could possibly hide, in some spots digging in with her fingers to remove crusted dirt, rocks, tar, and other unpleasant souvenirs of his time on earth and perhaps other planets as well. Each stroke with a brush or fingers was a physical act of love and devotion, her own way of showing just how thankful she was that he had returned from his mission and was healed enough to have his armor and new, exquisite altform. Well enough to have created a spark with Hound.

This close to him, she could feel the heat of his engine and the crackle of electricity that came just before an overload, but unlike a human vehicle, neither were enough to injure her. Instead the heat warmed her pleasantly and the tingle of the charge licking across his frame teased her body in all the right ways to drive her pleasure higher right along with his.

Her cleaning became a caress, fingers dipping in to find every bit of sensitive circuitry she could reach, her own breath beginning to come in gasps from the way her whole body was starting to tingle with Mirage's building charge.

~Want?~ he reached out to her across the bond, the single word including a very clear suggestion of cables pleasuring her while she pleasured him.

~Yes!~ Alicia gasped, continuing to find ways to make him moan and keen with her fingers deep in his now clean undercarriage. She was completely under his frame, her head near the front bumper, exploring every component she could find with both her hands and feet. She was certain that to an outsider it would have been a ludicrous image, but for anyone who understood the sensitivity of the systems she indulged, it was highly erotic. Those who watched could see her with sensors, fans and vents working hard as heat built up among the audience as well. She vaguely heard the hoots and cheers, but her main attention was on her lover.

Cables snaked down, curling around her breasts as they slid under her top and up her thighs. She heard Hound's systems rev and stutter, very close to overload from the scene, sensations from his lovers and his own touches driving him with the intent go over the edge with the pair he was watching.

A small spark jumped from Mirage's frame to her nipple, only to have a cable sooth the spot.

"Dios Mio, do that again," she hissed as a spark jumped from Mirage's frame to her nipple, with an amazing mixture of pleasure and delicious pain, only to have a cable sooth the spot like a caress after a quick bite.. She arched her back, moaning loud for everyone to hear as smooth, supple cables caressed her along with the charge that was making the hair on her arms stand on end. She found a spot that she had managed to miss and dug in deep, removing the hardened sand, until she reached what she instantly knew was a transformation cog. She threw her head back with a wicked smile of anticipation and put her knowledgeable fingers to work on the highly sensitive part.

All Mirage could do then was keen as pleasure crashed through his processors, wiping all thought but to drive his cables into her waiting body and thrusting hard and fast, desperate to feel her pleasure mix with his own. Under the keen was a rumbling howl as Hound reached his limit and joined his bonded in the mindless bliss.

Mirage's overload was all it took, and her body clenched down on the thrusting cable as she screamed Mirage's name, the released charge of his overload licking her entire body with tingling bliss in an orgasm that seemed to last forever.

When she was done trembling, she pushed herself out from underneath and shakily got up from the creeper seat. She was wet, filthy, her costume was in shambles, and her face had a deeply satisfied grin as their audience which now included a group of base soldiers and sockets erupted into cheers and catcalls. She gave a little bow, then turned toward Hound.

"Love, care to wash me off? I still need to do the waxing and polishing and don't want to get our noble beauty dirty again."

Without any shame, she stripped what remained of her costume, ready to be sprayed down before she continued what was sure to be a long, sensual, and highly satisfying afternoon.


	59. Frontliners Sidestory Wolfkat & Smokey

Fandom: Transformers Bayverse  
Author: gatekat  
Pairing: Smokescreen/Wolfkat  
Rating: R for mech/female  
Codes: Het, Xeno (Transformer/Organic)  
Summary: Ratchet is worried about Wolfkat's difficulty with normal pleasure and enlists Smokescreen's aid to see what the reason is.  
Notes: Written in the Dathanna de Gray fanverse (community .livejournal .com/ tf_socket_fics)  
Written for (community .livejournal .com/ tf_matrix) Fall Challenge: "Write a socketsmut scene involving an organic socket with a completely non-human form of sexuality or who is asexual but experiences other forms of pleasure."  
**"text"** - translated Cybertronian  
Wolfkat (the darker one):

* * *

Frontliners Sidestory-Wolfkat and Smokescreen

* * *

"Wolfkat," Smokescreen called out to the nearly eight foot tall canine humanoid as she crossed the open space of the Diego Garcia base for the holo-training center. On a mission from Ratchet or not, he was looking forward to getting to know this organic of Chromia's cadre better.

**"He-llo S-mo-ke-scr-een,"** she turned on one digitigrade foot to face him while she continued to walk towards the holo-training center backwards. "What do you need?"

"Some of your time," he allowed a small apology to slip into his tone, knowing that taking such an individual away from combat-time was an imposition.

Still, she stopped and gave no outward expression of annoyance that most warrior-mechs would have. "If you're seeking a charge, my sister does that," she said with clear expectation that he'd made the same mistake several other mechs had since her arrival.

"Ahh, no," he smiled down at her, his scanners telling him she was mildly surprised with growing curiosity. "I was actually looking for you to speak with," he felt deeply imbedded protocols from his promotion to PDF negotiator begin to modify his language, body language and perspective based on what his sensors and profiles told him about his subject. "Would another time be better?" he offered to let to go to her training, even though he knew it wasn't scheduled and she was off duty.

The chocolate-colored alien tipped her head sideways slightly, her thick, red-marked tail swishing as she considered him for a moment. "Now will be fine." She motioned him to lead the way to wherever he wanted to go.

He nodded his thanks and calmly folded into his alt mode, opening the passenger side door for her and relaxed again when she settled in with no difficulty he could detect from the difference in her form from the race his alt had been designed for.

"Are you having any trouble acclimating to Earth?" he asked as he pulled around to head off base. "You are the first predatory organics the humans have encountered."

Wolfkat chuckled deeply and relaxed a bit more, though never so much that she couldn't be ready to fight in a heartbeat. "The military ones are fighting for rank to train with me. The non-coms seem uneasy, but they haven't caused any problems. The food's good, the berth soft, weather's nice and there's space to *run* here."

"I'm glad to hear that," he said honestly. "You sister seems to enjoy it here as well."

A deep, rumbling howl of laughter answered him. "Oh yes. She's thrilled to have more mechs and so many organics to play with. She's in heaven. Caurver's pretty happy too, with open skies to fly in and plenty of space on empty islands to practice his magic."

"That is good," Smokescreen said, passing Ironhide's stand-alone quarters. "Do mechs come up to you often for a charge?"

"More often than I'd like, but no one has twice," she flicked her tail tip in something of a circle that Chromia's notes indicated was equivalent to a shrug. "It's acceptable. News will get around to everyone eventually."

"Quite true," he agreed easily. "Has sensual contact always been unpleasant for you?" he asked as they passed into the forest between the base and human's airstrip.

"Urfff?" a startled snort escaped before she processed the question. "Ratchet grumbling again? Yes. I'm a first changed, a warrior. Sex is a distraction for us, so it's ... programmed out, in your terms. Younger ones make babies. First changed protect the village."

"Have you explored non-sensual pleasures?" he asked curiously, passing the airstrip and into the parts of the island's forests that almost no one, mech or organic, went if they weren't Hound or his human.

"Why would I want to?" she looked at the center of the dashboard curiously. "It is not something I feel any need for."

"It could have cost Springer his functioning," Smokescreen pointed out and knew instantly that he'd played it right. "Even if it is rarely needed, it would be good to know how to charge a mech's spark."

"All right," she consented, even if less than thrilled with the idea. "You believe you can figure it out?"

"Yes," he said with all the confidence of his background and experience. This was what he did, after all. He got into another's processors and worked out what made them tick, how to make them do what he wanted and be happy about it.

"Then find a spot to park and let's sort it out," Wolfkat told him.

Smokescreen chuckled to himself at her impatience. That was in her profile as well. Once committed to a mission, she was all Zerstörerz; act fast, don't hold back, keep going until the enemy was obliterated. It didn't matter if the enemy was a mech, a unit, a base or an idea.

He pulled off the road, let her get out and walked into the denser forest between the lagoon and the road to give them privacy. Even if she didn't feel the need for it, privacy almost always helped people open up. As he settled against a stout tree, she climbed onto his chest and settled with her legs curled under her, ready to launch in any direction should trouble come. As much as he wanted to tell her to relax, he understood enough from her profile and her actions so far to know it wouldn't be helpful.

So he allowed her to settled in a way that made her feel comfortable and extended a connector cable from his shoulder. She barely glanced at it before plugging in and relaxing most of her mental firewalls to let him deep into her mind and body.

~I'd like you to think about a time where you felt very good,~ he instructed calmly but firmly. ~However you define 'feeling good' for yourself.~

Wolfkat nodded slightly and let her mind drift, flitting from memory to memory that was positive for her.

Despite the speed and semi-random, incomplete nature of the thoughts, there was enough of a pattern that Smokescreen was sure he could drive her high enough for a charge. It would feel different than one derived from sexual pleasure, but it would work. She was hardly the first organic he'd had to work out a non-sensual peak for.

Gently he ghosted control commands to her mind, allowing her to accept the idea that he'd drive her mind and body to something it enjoyed. Against all his expectations given what had happened before, she let him in smoothly and watched with simple curiosity as he began to trigger sensations.

A low, throaty sound escaped Wolfkat's throat as her body stretched upwards with an ark. Her mind flashed back to the most intense pleasure she remembered, running the combat obstacle course as her final act as a trainee; her coming of age rite. Muscles strained and stretched, her young heart and lungs pumped and sucked in air to fuel her powerful body as she danced the deadly race. All thought tapered off as she descended into a glorious state were there was nothing but the intoxicating feeling of freedom that was her unstoppable body.

Under her Smokescreen had to work to control his reaction, the near-instinctive sensual response to having his spark fed. Her pleasure was intense even before he began to feed it, drawing out the mindless ecstasy as she understood it.

She howled and writhed, acting out the dance in muted movements as her heart and body danced. Claws dug into the frame under her, headless that it might hurt, or even that it was alive. All she perceived was the glory, the race, the blood, the sensation of her powerful body breaking the bones and rending the flesh of her prey. The taste of living blood in her mouth as her jaws ripped a throat out.

Her piercing howl of victory and dominance echoed across the entire island and well out to sea. Under her Smokescreen was within moments of overloading, so close he shielded her from his sensations and drove his fingers into the gaps of his armor.

"Here," Wolfkat's panting came closer to his audio before her fingers dug into his left sensor-wing join. It was all it took and he grunted, arching his chassis as the charge rushed through him, discharging in waves of electric ecstasy.

"That wasn't bad, was it?" Smokescreen asked hazily as he came back to himself.

"No, it wasn't," Wolfkat smiled at him, her teeth carefully concealed as she leaned close to his helm and licked his cheek. "It wasn't bad at all."


	60. The Naturalists 15:  Lost Sparkling

Fandom: Transformers Bayverse  
**Author: **gatekat and femme4jack on LJ  
**Pairing: **Mirage/Hound/Alicia Rodriguez  
**Rating: **NC-17 for mech/mech/female  
**Codes: **Slash, Het, Xeno (Transformer/Human)  
**Summary: **A week after claiming Alicia, despite everyone's best efforts, something goes very wrong with Hound's new spark.  
**Notes: **Written in the Dathanna de Gray fanverse (community .livejournal .com/ tf_socket_fics)  
**"text"** translated Cybertronian.  
"text" organic languages  
~text~ bond/cable talk  
::text:: comm chatter

* * *

****

The Naturalists 15: Lost Sparkling

* * *

Hound was beyond grateful that his bonded and socket were inclined to sleep deeply and relatively late when in the safety of the base. Whatever Ratchet might say about why he was feeling funny, he didn't want to stress either of them over it. It could be nothing, just him being a paranoid first time carrier. It could be something minor, then Ratchet would insist on telling them and that was fine. But if the odd feeling in his spark was what he suspected, he'd rather know for sure before bringing it up.

So he was in the medbay just before dawn, confident that no matter who was on duty they would either know what to do or get a medic who did.

"Hey Hound, everything ok? Your appointment with Ratchet isn't until 1300." Mikaela gave Hound a concerned look from where she was checking Grimlock's stasis monitor as he entered.

"I'm not sure," he said as he approached her. "My spark feels ... off. I don't know how else to describe it."

"You spark?" Mikaela quickly pulled out her hand scanner to take a superficial look even as she called to Ratchet through their bond.

~Hey babe, better wake up and come on out. Hound is here, says his spark feels off. Preliminary readings aren't looking good for the little one.~

"I called Ratchet, Hound. When did you start feeling this way?"

"I noticed when I cycled on line twenty minutes ago," he answered. "It took a few minutes to work out why I was on line and what didn't feel right."

The door that separated medbay from Ratchet and Mikaela's quarters slid open and Ratchet quickly made his way to the berth where Hound was sitting next to a standing Mikaela. The look on his faceplates was gentle rather than annoyed, which was not a good sign. Ratchet angry was always a better prognosis than Ratchet looking gentle.

"Are you experiencing any pain, Hound?" he asked, as Hound felt the much deeper scan run through his systems.

"No, though it's not a pleasant sensation either," Hound tried to explain something he had no comparison to. "It just doesn't feel right."

He watched as Ratchet extended his medical interface and plugged in to the access port closest to his spark chamber, initiating a much deeper scan.

~I'm not registering the second spark, Hound. I'm going to need to take a look at your spark. It is possible it is simply hiding behind yours and I can't register it, but there are other indicators of reabsorption. If it has been, I need to visually verify that it has been fully reabsorbed. Is it ok if Mikaela stays on hand? There is a chance you might need a medical charge.~

~Yes,~ Hound felt the hard rush of pain-panic-grief at the very possibility and immediately felt both his bonded and socket reach out to sooth him as they struggled to come on line. It surprised none of them when he felt Mirage coming closer before the spy had even half his processors booted.

With a deep cycling of air, he unlocked his chest plates and separated them, bringing his spark chamber to the surface.

Ratchet's presence was calm and professional, even though it was clear that underneath it all the medic was deeply grieved. Hound felt him connect his medical interface into a port directly connected to the chamber, and could feel him probing his spark thoroughly.

When he disconnected, he was in full battlefield medic mode. Without preamble, he extended from his wrist a thick three-way medical charge cable, connecting one end to Mikaela's socket and the other the port on Hound's chamber.

"I need to initiate a charge immediately. Have Mirage bring Alicia. It is not fully reabsorbed and there is a chance we can save it. Mikaela I'm not putting him under for this. He needs to be able to direct the energy to the sparkling. This is going to be fast and furious."

Mikaela had barely nodded her head in understanding when she was obviously being brought to an extremely fast climax through direct neural stimulation. She fell to the berth, her eyes rolling into her head, her whole body twitching as it truly became a medical tool. The rush of energy was directed towards the new spark, though Hound's systems objected.

~Almost there,~ Mirage reached out, his tires screeching as he slowed down as quickly as he could at the medbay doors, which opened for him only to lock immediately behind him. He was still attempting to burn off momentum as he transformed and brought Alicia out of his cab.

**"Both of you connect with her now. Mirage, bring her to overload, and don't take your time doing it, and keep on doing it until I tell you to stop. Hound, you keep directing the energy to the spark,"** Ratchet ordered.

Even as they connected to Alicia, Ratchet brought his face close to the naked human's. "This is not going to be gentle, Alicia. We need you to overload as fast as you can, as many times as you can to try to stabilize the sparkling and bring it out of the corona back into orbit. Let Mirage take care of making your body do what it needs to. You focus on positive emotions as much as possible."

"Whatever needs to be done," she answered, moaning into the shudder of the all too skilled efforts of Mirage as he accessed methods he hadn't bothered with in ages. She'd barely finished the first shudder when pleasure exploded across her body.

**"Would any of my energy help?"** Mirage asked, trying to keep his voice calm and even, and failing completely.

**"Unknown, but worth a try,"** Ratchet said even as Mikaela screamed out in pleasure as her body shuddered again with another strong climax. **"But the most important thing you can do is bring her to strong climaxes, as many as she can take, and fast."**

Mirage nodded and partitioned off enough of his processors to keep Alicia going and make sure the energy was directed to Hound, then turned the rest to channeling what spark energy he could across their bond. He reached out to his bonded at the same time, holding him close physically and mentally in their shared fears.

Hound, Mirage and Alicia were instantly aware the moment the tiny spark was fully absorbed. No matter the energy directed at it, the pleas, hopes and prayers for it to continue, it was suddenly simply gone.

The naked, trembling socked let out a sob from where she was being held by Mirage. Ratchet gently disconnected Mikaela, picking her up to hold her shaking body close to his spark. He withdrew, giving the three of them a sense of privacy to grieve without hampering his ability to monitor them.

Mirage crawled on the berth as Hound closed his chest plates, and within a few nanokliks it was impossible to tell who was comforting who. All three were shaking, the human sobbing and both mechs keening softly between hitched ventilations.

After a time, it settled down into quiet resignation.

"What happened," Alicia finally asked Ratchet softly, tears still running down her face.

"The new spark was reabsorbed into Hound's," Ratchet said quietly. "According to Jazz, one in ten sparks reabsorb during the first decaorn. There are no predictable reasons why."

"Does this change our odds if we try again?" Mirage asked, his face still buried against Hound's shoulder, though it seemed the scout was taking more comfort than giving by it.

"Not in any negative way," Ratchet said gently. "You know you both can generate the energy needed. The next time you wish to try, you can spend a few decaorns getting yourselves ready."

Hound nodded weakly. "How long should we wait?"

Ratchet considered the question for a nanoklik, obviously weighing his own opinion with the data from Jazz. "There was no danger to you in this Hound. Reabsorption could very well have protected you from what could have been dangerous to your spark later, at least by some of the theories I've read. Both of your sparks are strong, your socket has outstanding energy and resonance with both of you. I would say the only factor is when you feel emotionally ready to try again."

Ratchet paused for a moment, as if contemplating whether to add something else.

"The one thing I would advise in your case is that you might go in with the intent of Mirage as carrier. While normally it is the larger, more heavily armored mech who carries, in the case of the two of you, different factors come into play. Hound, your guardian and caretaker protocols make you the ideal for filling that role according to our more ancient traditions. And Mirage, the strength and sheer quality of your protoform and armor due to your heritage may make you a more likely carrier. The two of you should consider talking with Jazz about it. He could explain from experience what I only understand from the data he gave me."

The pair nodded. "We will," Mirage added, sounding much better with a plan, especially one that involved a mech he trusted and respected. He shifted to stroke the grill over Hound's spark chamber with gentle fingers. "There is nothing we can do to give it better odds in the first decaorn?"

Ratchet walked over and sat on the berth next to theirs, still cradling Mikaela who had actually fallen asleep from the use that her body had been put to.

"The new spark was very small, and while I can't be certain that was why it reabsorbed, there are certainly things you can do to create a stronger spark. Medical grade energon for 2-3 decaorns prior to the attempt, intentionally strengthening the spark of whomever plans to carry, and then internationality when you attempt to spark. My impression was that though you both were partially aware that your reproduction protocols had kicked in, it was not as intentional a process as it could have been. All of those things will help."

Mirage nodded slightly. "It wasn't. I tried to pull back at one point too. I wasn't ready for pain in the merge."

Ratchet smiled gently, "So as difficult as the loss is, consider how much more you will know next time you try. I will know more as well. I have extensive data recorded from the point I knew Hound was carrying until now."

Alicia looked at Ratchet, then up at her mechs with weary eyes, still red and puffy from her grief. "What...happens to the spark that is absorbed? Does its essence return to Primus? Do you have any way of knowing?"

"No, though Prime will, if he looks hard enough," Ratchet considered the issue. "It's entirely possible that with this form of spark creation, the distinction between carrier and new spark doesn't happen until later. There were thesis written about why the new spark didn't display any awareness or personality until a certain point, and that it did not actually receive the touch of Primus until then. It's possible that this early on, it's not actually alive in the way we understand it."

Alicia nodded thoughtfully before curling up on Hound's lap.

Ratchet contemplated them for a moment, clearly debated a question internally. "When would you like for me to officially inform Prime and the other command staff? I'm certain they will arrange leave for all of you if you wish it, and at some point, Prime will wish to inform the rest of the base. That can wait...though I'm certain the at least all the mechs on base heard your keening and will guess. I want to make sure you have the privacy you need, even if that means spending some time off island."

"I'd like that," Hound murmured. "A few orn somewhere ... quiet," he felt Mirage nod and the support and agreement across their bond, even though he knew without a doubt that Mirage would rather be on base, to accept all too rare expressions of comfort from others. It was something the scout doubted he could stand. He needed to reset his emotional equilibrium, and for him that meant the wilderness.

"I will speak with Prime as soon as we are finished. Why don't the three of you get back to your quarters. Your spark is safe, Hound, and there is no reason to stay here. You can decide where you'd like to go. Plan on leaving today, within a few joor. I don't imagine I'll get any argument from command, and I can certainly make it a medical order," Ratchet said kindly, putting Mikaela down on the berth and standing to put a hand on each of the mech's shoulders, much to Mirage's surprise. "Make sure she gets something high protein to eat, will you? That kind of charging is really taxing on them," he added as he looked down at the now sleeping Alicia.

"I will," Mirage promised as he uncurled and slid off the berth, offering the hand that wasn't supporting Alicia to his bonded. "We'll be ready."

A joor later, there was a ping at the door of their quarters. Alicia had woken up enough to have a plate of eggs while Hound and Mirage were having some time alone in the bath, more on the order of sharing grief through a merge than anything erotic. She wasn't anywhere near ready for sharing after the intensity of trying to save the tiny spark, and she had felt as though they needed some time alone.

She debated answering the door, unsure whether her mechs (or herself for that matter) where ready to see anyone, but when she checked the ID, she realized it was Prime waiting. She could feel through the growing socket bond that Mirage and Hound had already merged and were now simply holding one another, so she gently let them know who was at the door.

She signaled the door to open, and found her breath catching at the site of the gigantic and charismatic leader of the Autobots waiting to be invited in.

"Come in, please," she said shyly. "Mirage and Hound are in the washracks and will be out in a few kliks."

"Thank you, Alicia," his deep voice rumbled as he entered their quarters. "It is not my wish to disturb any of you in your grief, but I have an offer that I hope might be just what is needed right now."

"Oh," she blinked in surprised. "Please make yourself comfortable ... or I can pass the information on?"

"I will sit. I would prefer to speak with all three of you. As I said, it is not my intention to intrude on your grief, other than to offer my own and whatever help I can be."

Prime sat gracefully on the mech-sized couch and then extended his hand for her. She carefully stepped onto his it and he brought her to a level she could speak comfortable with him.

"I have requested a psychiatrist for Diego Garcia that has experience with miscarriages and unusual family units. While I am aware that her knowledge will not be a match for this situation, I believe she can help you."

"Thank you...that is very thoughtful, and I'm sure having someone with skills in counseling unusual families will be helpful to more than just me," she said respectfully.

"That is my hope," he inclined his head. "Though I would hope this loss does not happen again, it would be foolish not to prepare for it given what Jazz and our Seekers have told us. How are you feeling?"

"Oh ... I didn't mean it happening again. I would hope not. I was thinking in terms of the issues that will come up for mechs and their first generation sockets as the honeymoon wears off," she explained, then looked down for a moment. "I feel ... far more grief than I ever imagined I could for someone I did not even know yet, wish there was more I could have done. I was ... extremely optimistic, perhaps arrogantly so, that a socket would make all the difference," she admitted quietly, surprised that she was opening up so much to the leader whom she had hardly spoken with before, but finding it nearly impossible not to.

"I am very sure you did, and will, make a difference. Even with the best care and preparation, there will always be new sparks that are not meant to be," he said gently.

"What happens to those...that are not meant to be?" she asked quietly. "Ratchet said you would know."

The Prime hummed softly. "The energy returns to the carrier. I could not sense the new spark yet, and there was no one who passed on in the last orn. I can only assume that it was not an independent life yet."

Alicia nodded thoughtfully. "It is strange, but also comforting to be able to know so clearly something that human beings have debated endlessly...when a person really becomes a person. They are coming," she added, relieved that her mechs were on their way out.

She appreciated speaking with Prime, but would rather have been in a different frame of mind than completely weary and needing desperately to somehow comfort her mechs...to feel useful and not be another emotional burden on top of what they were already carrying.

**"Lord Prime,"** Mirage somehow managed his formal greeting and bow without a flaw while Hound stepped up and accepted Alicia back. **"You honor us with this visit."**

**"Thank you,"** Prime said graciously, standing and moving to another seat so the mechs could sit together while they spoke. "I add my grief to your own, though I will admit that even this all too short success has given me great hope for our future, which Ratchet assures me is appropriate.

"Ratchet has requested a decaorn of leave for all three of you, at a location away from base for privacy," Prime continued. "I have not had reason yet to make any beyond the senior officers aware of this, but shortly after the Mission City battle, when it was apparent to me that we would be making our home here for some time, I purchased several remote properties ... perhaps it was to convince myself that we were indeed staying, or out of a sense of hope that the war was indeed coming to an end. Regardless, the locations are not suitable for full bases, but are suitable for mechs needing a place to retreat, or even to make their homes some day. Each location is far enough away from human population centers for those who visit not to be seen, and I've had simple but suitable accommodations built at each location. It was my hope that at some point, I could make one of these available to any of my soldiers who needed it."

"That ... would be wonderful, Prime." Hound's smile almost reached his optics. "Much better than the Canadian shield that we'd agreed on," he reached out to draw Mirage close, fully aware of how much the noble was giving to grieve in such a place.

"I am glad they will finally be of some use, and hope that conditions remain in such a state that others will be able to begin using them. There are currently three completed sites that all have airstrips. One is an uninhabited atoll in the Marshall islands, another an island on the Alaskan Archipelago, and the third in an island in the NW Territories of Canada," Prime explained, with no small amount of pride, handing Mirage a datapad with photos and information on the locations and what they would find there. "Starjumper is at your disposal whenever you would like to leave. Oh, and each location is well stocked, whether for mech or organic."

~Would the Alaskan Archipelago be agreeable?~ Mirage chose the one he knew would have the wild weather and storms that would sooth his bonded.

~With adequate shelter and two mechs to keep me warm, it sounds like paradise,~ Alicia answered. Despite her exhaustion and grief, the idea of being somewhere wild and uninhabited had her nearly quivering in excitement despite her grief.

~It sounds good,~ Hound nuzzled his bonded and gently caressed Alicia.

"Thank you, Lord Prime," Mirage leaned into his bonded. "We will be ready soon for the Alaskan Archipelago within half a joor."


	61. The Naturalists 16:  Healing Storms

**Fandom:** Transformers Bayverse  
**Author:** gatekat and femme4jack on LJ  
**Pairing:** Mirage/Hound/Alicia Rodriguez  
**Rating:** NC-17 for mech/mech/female  
**Codes:** Slash, Het, Xeno (Transformer/Human), Sticky, Spark-sex  
**Summary:** Hound, Mirage and Alicia each come to terms with the loss and find their way back to normal in the own way, backed by the storms of the artic ocean.  
**Notes:** Written in the Dathanna de Gray fanverse (community .livejournal .com/ tf_socket_fics)  
**"text"** translated Cybertronian.  
"text" organic languages  
~text~ bond talk  
::text:: comm chatter  
pobrecito = poor little thing

* * *

****

The Naturalists 16: Healing Storms

* * *

Alicia woke up as Starjumper announced their approach to Attu Island, the westernmost point in Alaska. She excitedly looked out the window at the rugged, snow-bound mountains and green valleys of the uninhabited Aleutian island surrounded by a dark, dangerous looking sea. The Coast Guard had closed a LORENS station on the eastern end of the island in 2009, the site no longer needed due to the advent of GPS. Prime quietly had it modified for Autobot use after purchasing the entire island from the US government and the Aleut people.

Touchdown was gentle and fast, and Starjumper opened her side for them to exit.

**"If you need me, I'm just a call away,"** her lightly resonate voice, usually cold, was gentle and warm with real grief. "I'll come back in a decaorn."

Alicia joined her mechs in giving her sincere thanks as they entered the damp chill of late spring in the Aleutians. The field around the airstrip was bursting with wildflowers that seemed even more vivid under the gray, stormy sky that Starjumper quickly disappeared into.

The human was glad that for some odd reason there had been clothing suitable for the weather on base at Diego Garcia, even if she would be wearing fatigues and camo for their remainder of their leave. She took in a deep breath of the cool, damp air laden with the smell of the sea, closed her eyes, and smiled, feeling tension she had not even known she was carrying drain from her body.

"It's beautiful," Hound drew the air deep into his systems, relishing in the bite of the cold and the organic nature of the chemicals his sensor array sorted out.

"Why don't you two explore the outside while I find out what Prime considers simple but suitable?" Mirage smiled, relaxing a bit as he felt both his bonds calm.

"I'm sure it will be 5 star," Alicia teased. "That is if you are an Evermann's Rock Ptarmigan. This is the only Aleutian island they remain on, about 1000 of them left."

"I'm sure the numbers won't remain so low for long," Mirage shook his head and headed for the decommissioned station. It still looked the same, but he knew inside it would have been gutted and appointed for mechs with a small section for humans.

His sensors easily read the history of the island that was no longer visible. The scars of one of the least known but fiercest Pacific battles in WWII on the only place in North America to have been occupied by the Japanese, mass graves of the over 2000 Japanese soldiers who were killed or killed themselves sill evident across the landscape. He scanned the remains of the small Aleut village at the site of the decommissioned Coast Guard station, the huts had been destroyed when the Japanese had invaded. As pristine, wild, and remote as the as the fog-shrouded island appeared, it was very much shaped and scarred by humanity's legacy.

Mirage knew the wildlife's recovery, the fact that the island _looked_ all but untouched, would relax his bonded. He could feel it working even as he opened the mech-sized door to the former Coast Guard and slipped inside to gage just how uncomfortable the next decaorn would be.

It was a pleasant surprise. He had expected the bare bones quarters with a few berths, minimal washracks, and a small area set aside with bunks for humans. Instead, he found a large geothermally heated common area with expansive windows at both ends looking out over the Pacific and to the west at the volcanic mountains of Attu Island. There was an entertainment center, comfortable furnishings, and a small area set up for socket use for food prep.

Leaving the common area, he walked down the expanded corridor of the former LORENS station and found four berth rooms set up in different configurations including a large one on the west side looking out over the pacific with a comfortable double berth. The 3 rooms on the east shared one washracks and the large room on the west had its own, similar to officers quarters at Diego Garcia including a soaking tub/oil bath. Each berthroom had appropriate socket quarters attached.

The corridor ended at at a large supply room that included energon, some basic parts, and other various items helpful to long-term and short-term stays for mechs and organics. A decent supply of high grade was also on hand.

Not large enough for a base, but definitely an outpost that could be home to up to 8 mechs depending on their size.

~How is it?~ Alicia asked him, her attention obviously on both of her mechs as it was on the remote beauty she was surrounded by.

~Very nice,~ he murmured, still more than slightly surprised as he abandoned all other thoughts for the oil bath and set it to the highest temperature it would go, far higher than he could with an organic even in the quarters, much less in the wash rack. ~It's fitting for Prime to spend time in.~

Alicia could feel his pleasure over the bond, and glancing over at Hound, saw him give a small smile as well. ~Enjoy your bath. I'm going for a walk. The info said there was a boathouse about a half mile south at the old bird watcher housing, and I'm going to see if there is a sea kayak. Winds are low enough today to enjoy the water.~ she told both her mechs, already thoroughly in her element, ready to go let the sound and smell of the cold salt water bring her peace.

~Inventory indicates there is,~ Mirage responded with a low, pleasure-laden groan from an indulgence he hadn't had in a very long time. ~But be _careful_. We can't rescue you in time if something goes wrong.~

~Don't worry, I've lots of experience, and I'll stay very close to shore. There are buoys connected to the network here that monitor the tides and currents, and I'm already hooked in.~ She sent her assurance and confidence that she was doing something she had done many times before she met them.

~I'll keep sensors on her,~ Hound said softly. ~There is a rocky peninsula over the same direction that would be a good place to sit and watch the birds and the waves.~

* * *

They are both so quiet in their own very different ways. Hound is simply being and thinking out there in the wild storm that finally forced me in on our second day when even the parka I found in storage and my scout's own frame couldn't keep me warm enough. Mirage is spending much of his time in the oil baths, far too hot for me to join him. I can't read him right now. On the one hand, he is conversational when we are together in the far nicer than expected accommodations that we enjoy, but he also feels distant. It is as though he is fine. Completely fine, and perhaps protecting me from just how fine he is.

But either way, the underlying conversation in my head that has become so familiar is suddenly very quiet. I can _feel_ them, and that is enough.

I'm really not the sit still type. Not for very long, at least. Even meditating outdoors, I usually walk as. The movement brings me peace. I might sit in one spot for an hour if there is something to watch, or longer if I'm working and need to get a good count or am waiting patiently for a particular animal to show itself, but nothing like the stillness Hound is capable of. Of course, him sitting in one spot for 36 hours straight, by comparison, is a far shorter part of his life than the hour I might sit.

The first day we arrived near dawn on the westernmost point in the United States. I spent the morning kayaking a small inset from Massacre Bay between Casco Point and Murder Point, the names of the geography of Attu attesting to the horror of one of the single largest banzie attacks in WWII. Such a strangely beautiful spot, with no visible signs of the battle in which well over 600 Americans and 2500 Japanese died in brutal hand to hand combat or by their own grenades one it was clear the Japanese had lost. Now it is a birding paradise. I've already seen a dozen species that I have never seen in the wild before.

All of the _life_ in a place that was a site of gruesome death is bringing me a sense of peace, as nature always seems to. The waves continue to crash, the tides continue to ebb and flow no matter what we have faced or what will come.

In truth, I feel a bit guilty about just _how_ much I am enjoying myself. Even without the death ... no ... that is not the right word ... even without the new spark that became part of Hound's once again, I _needed_ this. I needed to be away from the constant social atmosphere of base. Perhaps I even needed a time without the ongoing conversation happening in this new and wonderful bond. It feels so good to be both alone, but with the ones I have chosen and who chose me.

When the weather started to turn today, I sat for an hour on Hound's lap as he watched the incoming storm. We did not say a word, aloud or through bond. We just were. His warmth seeped through my parka and flannel lined camo pants, his hands sheltered me from the growing winds. Tears were running down my face, and yet I felt so much peace. We are so small, even my giant lovers, compared to the vast ocean and the wild storm, which themselves are tiny blips in the universe. Why being finite makes me feel peaceful, I have no idea. Perhaps it's being a part of what is infinite, not separate, just like now bonded to my mechs, I am no longer simply Alicia. I'm a part of beings so much vaster and older than I am, part of their very life force. I know that energetically I am connected with _everything_, but through our bond, it isn't just an intellectual knowledge. I can feel and touch it the way I would my own skin.

Finite and infinite, a tiny spark now a part of a much vaster one, which itself came from Primus' own spark, and will be part of it again. A drop in the ocean, but a precious drop that is in its own way as important as the whole.

* * *

Alicia put down the journal she was writing in. Despite her socket, or perhaps because of it, she still enjoyed the discipline of writing with a real pen on real paper.

She had showered to warm up after Hound had broken his silence insisting she watch the storm inside because of the threat of frostbite. Realizing that she was no longer warm, but was actually numb, she agreed.

She was now in the common room, and as much as the old coast guard station had been reinforced and improved at Prime's direction, she could still hear the nearly hurricane force winds outside. She made herself a cup of tea, turned off all the lights, and sat by the window overlooking the raging cauldron that the day before she had been calm enough to kayak.

She felt Mirage approach by the heat he was radiating more than the sound of his whisper-silent frame. He said nothing as he lay down behind her, taking up a majority of the two windows on the wall she was sitting in front of.

"Is there anything you wish to speak about?" he asked gently, tailing a finger down her back.

"Mmmm," she leaned into the touch, realizing quickly that she was quite happy not to be alone. "I don't really know. I'm...fine. Still sad, but I feel a little guilty about just _how_ much I'm enjoying it here, considering what got us here in the first place."

She moved from her seat to sit on the floor leaning against Mirage's chest, his heat dispelling the remainder of her chill. "You feel _so_ warm," she purred, practically melting against him.

"I was in the oil bath, as hot as it gets," he smiled gently and draped his fingers across her body lightly. "It is not bad to enjoy being here," he tried to sooth her. "It was a minor grief. No _person_ was lost, only the potential for one."

She nodded. "I...it just was such a sign of hope, the first non-seeker to be sparked. I had really hoped I would make a difference, but I know logically there was nothing more I could have done."

"No, there wasn't," he assured softly. "Hound and I shouldn't have tried. I wasn't healed. He wasn't prepared. We didn't even have medical care for a week. It wasn't a real life yet, it wouldn't be for metacycles, even if it had lasted."

"When do you think we'll try again?" she asked, barely audible to her own ears under the shrieking of the wind. She included herself in the 'we' without even realizing she had done so.

Mirage hummed, touching Hound's spark briefly to gage his state. "Perhaps next year. Within a metacycle I'm sure."

"That's good," Alicia murmured, even as she began taking off her layers of clothing. The heat was still pouring off her lover. ~Are you up for sharing? I _need_ to, especially after medbay. It ... it was very harsh

~Yes,~ he said gently across the bond, a cable snaking out from his wrist to nudge her hand. ~Think what you'd like.~

She plugged in with an audible sigh of relief, giving him images that all involved gentleness. Never had orgasms felt so clinical as when one after another had been literally extracted from her. She had been more than willing to have that happen, and it wasn't that it had not felt good, but it had simply been so cold, as though it were happening to another body while she watched.

~That is not an inaccurate assessment,~ Mirage pointed out gently as two cables snaked around her body, simply exploring. ~Lay down, pretty one,~ he encouraged with thoughts of his glossa exploring her fully.

~Gladly, and thank you, love,~ she murmured, not having been aware of just how much she needed to reconnect this way until it was happening. She lay on cushions in front of the windows, the wildness of the storm both exciting and soothing her as much as Mirage did. She stretched out with a soft moan as he rolled over, hovering above her and leaned down to kiss her gently.

It was odd to think that only days before she had been detailing him outside Hanger 10 on base. Now they were on an unpopulated, remote island between the Pacific and Bearing Sea, in this strange intersection of grief and soul deep enjoyment of one of the earth's remaining lonely, wild places. She reached up and caressed Mirage's delicate facial components and opened her tiny mouth to his much larger one.

Through her bond she felt Hound's awareness of their intimacy, and his encouragement and approval even as he more fully immersed his sensors in the wildness of the storm. She arched into Mirage's soft touches as the kiss was broken and his glossa lapped at her throat.

~You are lovely, Alicia, even in grief.~

~In a strange way, this sort of grief _is_ lovely, Mirage. Something created out of love and loved to its end, and knowing that new life will come again from your sparks. I love you both so much I feel like I could burst with it,~ she said with a sob, tears mingling with her whimpers of pleasure at Mirage's exquisitely slow, gentle progress down her body.

~That is a good way to think of it,~ he smiled as his glossa slid up the moist softness between her legs. ~We will bring a sparkling to life. It just wasn't this time. We know so much more for the next try.~

She arched into him, weeping as much in relief at the touch as she was in lingering sadness over their loss. The slide of his glossa sent tingles up her spine and down her legs, her sobs quickly changing to gasps as he played her body like a virtuoso and shared with her the sweetness of her vibrant energy flowing into his sated spark, purely for the pleasure of being with her and not out of any true need.

Cables slid along her body, caressing her lightly to heighten her pleasure without trying to drive her to orgasm. Only his glossa, smooth, warm and patient, worked to bring her to completion.

~Hold me,~ she begged, wanted to be wrapped by his hands and claws as her body built towards exquisite completion.

With a soft hum he complied, sliding his fingers and cables around her as he lifted her up so he could sit up and exact more full control over how quickly the pleasure built without using anything other than his skill with his glossa. It was a rush, feeling this slow build to pleasure he almost never did with organics and rarely even his bonded.

~It feels good, though.~ Hound brushed against his spark, causing him to shudder in memory of the times they had taken their time, spent joors building up to that first overload.

~When you come in, I think we will,~ Mirage rumbled, as eager as he was patient.

At Alicia's wordless plea, Hound began to feed their socket the symphony of the storm as experienced through his sensor suite, and the storm and Mirage expertly drawing out her pleasure with his sensuous metal became her only reality, as though her lover was the storm itself. By the time the energy in her finally burst, she had lost all awareness of time or even her own name.

When she woke, she felt balanced, calm and rested. Mirage's resting presence in her mind, the strength of still being plugged in, was close to the first thing she recognized. She also felt the light charge of an overload that hadn't quiet happened still zipping around his systems.

Alicia gave a soft smile, unplugged and slid off of him, finding her bag where she had packed the rest of the polish Jazz had given her. Looking around, she located some soft cloths and returned to plug herself back. She moved between her lover's lower pedes and began to rub him in as though she were some Cybertronian masseuse even as he recharged.

The mechanisms spread out for her and he began to cycle to awareness with a soft sound of contented pleasure and a decidedly not-quite-aware brush of _desire-affection_ across the connection.

It was all the encouragement Alicia needed to begin polishing each and every component thoroughly, with exacting care. She was thrilled with this new way of showing her lovers TLC in a way that her tiny hands were particularly gifted at giving. It was a particular source of pride for her and they left no doubt how much they enjoyed the attention they couldn't truly give each other.

A cable snaked out from his ankle joint to slide up the back of her leg, dipped forward to tease her sex lightly, then continued up her back.

~There is something extra enjoyable with pleasure that isn't required,~ he murmured with a hum of contentment.

~Giving it and receiving it,~ she brushed against him with adoration as she worked her way to his other pede. ~Aside from the reason we came, I really could get used to going on vacation together,~ she admitted.

There was a long moment of mental stillness, almost long enough to concern her, before he chuckled lightly. ~The option to have a vacation longer than a two-orn furlough will be unique.~

~Personally, I could go for a whole season hiking in the Himalayas, but I'm not quite sure that is what you have in mind,~ she laughed. ~But I think I know something you would enjoy,~ she added slyly, making her way between his legs to lean against his interface panel. ~If I recall, there was a certain area I was not able to polish when you were in your alt form. I'll start with your interface panel, and can move on from there,~ she suggested as she began to sensuously polish the quickly heating armor above his spike and valve.

Mirage shuddered deeply and unlocked the panel, though he didn't retract it. A low, vibrating moan of pure pleasure echoed through the room and Alicia's entire body. With it came simple non-verbal instructions for how to manually open the panel when she was ready, and that he was in no hurry.

The socket patiently took her time, polishing every inch of his panel to a mirror finish, taking care that her movements were a sensuous as possible, like a slow dance that would never end, drinking in the slowly building ecstasy she was causing. Somewhere during it Mirage transmitted that she was the first organic to touch him this way, to polish him as a lover would. Even his surprise at how much more pleasurable it felt than with professionals trickled in.

With a smiled and hum of pleasure, she carefully polished the edges, dipping her fingers in from time to time in the promise of more. Finally, when she was satisfied, she slid her fingers into the gap at the top and retracted the panel into its slot. His spike nearly exploded from its casing as soon as the panel cleared, and Mirage groaned in relieved anticipation. A bit further down and she was facing his the soft metal folds around the edge of his valve, already slick with lubricant.

It was so tempting for her to dip in her hands, to taste him and find the nodes that would drive him to overload the way he could find every sensitive nerve on her body. But she held back, as aroused as she was becoming, though she did take a little of the lubricant on her finger and tasted him out of utter curiosity. Just like his scent, the taste as all Mirage. Alien, elegant, and erotic.

~Shall I polish your spike first, my love, or the rim of your valve?~ she purred to him, her own sex hot and wet in anticipation of pleasuring him. He gave voice to her arousal with his own.

~Valve,~ he answered breathlessly, trembling in anticipation of something that had never been done to him.

Alicia took a deep breath to calm herself and stay patient. If there was anything she had learned in the past week with her mechs, it was how supremely enjoyable it was to bring them slowly and patiently to overload simply with the skill of her own fingers.

She leaned forward a placed a kiss atop the rim of his beautiful valve, and then slowly began to polish every lovely metal fold with the contents of the priceless bottle Jazz had given her.

Pliable, sensor-dense living metal responded, twitching and pushing outwards slightly to encourage her touch. In her mind she could feel perceivably how good it felt, how hard it was for Mirage not to thrust his hips or extend cables to draw her in to directly pleasure the inside of his valve.

~Oh Primus, Alicia,~ he breathed against her mind, his chassis trembling in the slowly building charge and a sense of awe at the sensations she was creating. In the back of his mind was a thought of her polishing the inside of his valve with the same care and the thought _burned_.

Alicia smiled at the thought. ~That sounds like an amazing idea, as soon as I can see my reflection in the rim,~ she purred, continuing her methodically sensuous care, firmly controlling her own trembling and forcing herself to be patient. The pleasure she was building in him, the whimpers, whines and gasps he offered up to her were very much worth it.

Slender, sharp fingers clutched at the pillows he was laying on as his vents whined in a desperate attempt to keep up with his racing circuits. Mirage pressed his head back with a low, deep moan, trying to hold the soft living metal of his valve rim steady despite the way he wanted to pulse and pull a hard spike inside. A spike that wasn't there, and he whimpered at what wasn't coming.

From it all, though, he couldn't suppress the thought that this was the buildup Jazz described for creating a new spark. Agonizingly long, holding it back until there was no possibility of resisting anymore. That the next time it would orbit his spark, that it was his functioning at risk ... but could he really do that? Could he do such a thing, to willingly take himself off duty for at least half a vorn?

~To create another as amazing as you ... as Hound...~ Alicia whispered, moving her hands to begin to polish the inside of his valve that he had dried of lubricant. She had no spike to drive into him, but she knew how to pleasure sensor nodes, and began polishing each one with the same care she had shown his rim. She reveled in making him the center of her universe, perfect to her, utterly desirable and deserving of her thorough and adoring attention.

Affection, desire, approval, awe-tinged appreciation all flowed from Mirage as she paid special care to polishing the sensor nodes, places that had _never_ experienced this kind of attention. She sensed how close he was, how much he was struggling both through the connection and how the valve walls quivered under her fingers.

~Let go, love,~ she murmured to him, intentionally giving him firmer attention even as she continued polishing, imagining watching Hound spike his now mirror-like valve, her own body beginning to quiver at both the image in her mind and the very real emotions and sensations being shared across bond and cable.

When she had polished as much of the quivering valve as she could reach, she placed her mouth on a single node close to the rim and sucked hard on it while massaging two others with her hands. It was all it took and Mirage keened into a scream of ecstasy, his valve tightening and flexing almost painfully around her hands as power surged through his systems, whiting out all thought and impute for several long kliks.

Alicia's own arousal settled while he reset. She could easily have continued this game long into the night, but she also had things on her mind, like whether Mirage was really doing as well as he seemed.

She climbed up onto his chest, waiting to see if he would drift into recharge or be up for talking. A slightly shaky hand came up and stroked her lightly as his systems hummed and optics came on line.

~That was amazing,~ a still sated mind brushed against hers. ~But you didn't...~

~I'm fine, just enjoy, love. It was wonderful to feel you overload that hard,~ she added, caressing the seam in his chestplates as she listened to the musical hum of his systems and spark.

~It felt unbelievably good,~ he murmured with a faint tremor and continued to stroke her lightly. ~I never thought anything could feel that amazing. So different from a spark merge, but so incredible. Are you feeling better, about the lost spark?~

~I'm fine, mostly. I know I'll have my ups and downs, especially if I think about the what ifs and might have beens. My mama is a midwife, you know, and she described to me the process of grieving a miscarriage ... grieving a lost future that will never happen. I know how humans deal with it. I honestly have no idea about you or Hound. Are you really doing as well as you seem?~ she asked gently, as she continued to caress his chest.

~I am,~ he assured her, opening up to her more. ~Like most SpecOps, it drives Ratchet and Smokescreen to near hysterics. Remember how easily I recovered once the physical damage was dealt with from my capture? It's how many of us handle trauma during wartime. You package the grief-memories up, stick them in a high-security file with a file name that warns you that it's a debilitating memory or event, and it's over.~

~So...is it the emotions associated with the memory you file away, or the memories themselves?~ she asked, trying to understand something so alien to her.

~The memory files themselves,~ he said easily. ~If there is important information involved, that is written as dryly and factually in a separate file that becomes the memory accessed for that event or events. I know we lost a new spark that Hound carried and when it happened,~ he did feel a small pang of grief, but it was the abstract kind associated with a general statement. ~I know what Ratchet said about how to do it next time. Lesser details weren't recorded.~

~And Ratchet and Smokescreen think this is a bad idea because...~ She knew why it concerned her, but it also was just such a 'Mirage' thing to do

~Because we never really _processes_ the trauma. Just forget and move on. It goes against everything their training says is healthy and sane ... but we're SpecOps, mentally healthy and sane are not terms meant for us. We do what we have to, to get the job done, and then again to be ready for the next one. It's just ... it's just what we do, to survive.~

~Will it ever catch up with you, Mirage?~ she asked with quiet concern. ~It makes sense...for what you experience on missions. But for the grief that comes simply from living?~ Alicia tried to make it clear that she was not judging, simply concerned.

~Probably,~ he shrugged mentally. ~When it does, I'll be of no more use to Jazz or the Autobots. Until then, I stay mission ready.~

It was very clear in that moment that while war took a toll on everyone, it took an especially hard toll on those who did the the kind of work Mirage did. She could _see_ why strong emotions, even love, could get in the way of the work he did that ultimately saved lives. Yet the very things he did to keep going emotionally disconnected him and isolated him further from those his work protected.

~You pay a high price, love,~ her mind tried give him a sense of her limited but accepting understanding of why he did what he did in order to have a purpose as strong as the one he had been created for.

He considered her for a lingering moment. ~It is only a price when you lose something. Without this, I would have ceased to function not long after the Towers and without ever having been of use to anyone. 'Living on borrowed time' I believe is your saying?~

It hurt Alicia on a level, knowing that grief was simply written away as though it was some sort of bad code. She wondered if she would become a packaged memory when her end came, and yet, if she did, would it be in its own way a compliment. What he said made complete sense to her, even though along with grief filled memories, he also was ridding himself of the joy those same events brought. She remembered all too clearly how joy and pride had radiated from Mirage at the party but a few days before celebrating the new spark.

But it was how he continued to function after far more pain and loss than any mortal, even a practically immortal one, should ever endure. And it gave him purpose, usefulness, a reason to function. The only thing she could do was accept it, and try to give to give back as much of the joy and pleasure as she could to make up for what he lost in packaging away his memories.

* * *

Energy cannot be destroyed, life goes on, there will be another chance. The new spark was just energy, not a true spark yet. Its end leaves me with a little more of my bonded in my spark. That isn't a terrible thing, it was nothing to grieve. No, it wasn't a bad thing at all, to have a little more of Mirage inside me.

Yes, potential was lost, and I could, should and would grieve that. But it was not a life lost, only the potential for one. I still have my bonded, we are both healthy and neither spark has been harmed.

Alicia has been all over. On the water, hiking the hills, generally burning energy in a way a mech does when they are desperate to forget, not think. Yet I can feel her emotions settle as the days pass. Organics never process these limited forms of grief as quickly as mechs do. The passion she shared with Mirage felt good, but I don't believe either of them felt better when they finished talking afterward. Mirage has sunk into the processorset that he is nothing but his ability to perform missions, that his only purpose in functioning is to please those who give him orders. He has forgotten that I'll still love him no matter what, that when he can't be a spy and one of Jazz's favorites anymore I'll still be by his side and value him just as much.

Alicia is hurting again, but not over the new spark. His coldness burns her. She'll need me to explain a few things as well, though I hope she can wait until a spark-merge or three sorts Mirage out. I really don't dare let him off this island and around people again in his state.

The storm is calming. Time to sort out my lovers.

* * *

Alicia had spent the morning on a hike up Engineer Hill to see the monument to peace dedicated by the Japanese government in 2008. The storm had blown all the clouds and fog away, and she had been able to see for miles in every direction.

As she came over the hill above the old LORENS station, she was aware of something different. Hound was no longer sitting at Murder point. He was, in fact, walking toward her on the trail. He smiled at her, and when she reached out he felt ... balanced, but not calm.

~How was the storm?~ she asked as he gently picked her up to walk to the station.

~Very refreshing. There is little quite like the energy of a wild place to remind you that the universe is very vast and full of energy, full of life.~

~I think we both like it for the same reason, though I'm not very good at staying still. I'm glad you are feeling better, love,~ she brushing him with affection and no small amount of desire.

~How are _you_ feeling, after talking to Mirage?~ he returned the affection, but not the desire. ~He's not himself yet. Those edits he does cause major issues with his emotional subroutines.~

~I can only imagine,~ she sighed. ~I feel sad, and I have to wonder whether it is necessary for the normal pains and grief that life brings, because he is editing out the good things that come with those memories as well...at least that is how it feels. For what happens on missions...I can understand. This war in going to be over, though. Hopefully in my lifetime.~ She left the thought unfinished. There would not always be missions for him to be ready for.

~Yes, it will be over in a few vorns if the current trend is to go by,~ he vented a heavy sigh. ~Then the real work begins for all of us, not just Mirage. There are so few left who have any idea how to function as civilians, and even those who do will have to do a great to of reworking of their protocols to function that way again. Many never will manage. Mirage will,~ he assured her. ~Whether he is a mech you recognize I can not say.~

~His ability to change and adapt makes him who he is. I understand that. The self-centered part of me hurts that I might become one of those edits when I'm gone. I try not to let the limits of his emotions towards me hurt, but sometimes I can't help it.~

~He never forgets his sockets, even the ones he dislikes,~ Hound almost chided her, pausing near the door to finish the conversation without Mirage watching them. ~Do you remember that first conversation, when he tried to explain why he can't let you as close as he does me?~

~Of course. I think about it every day, Hound. And I remember that he doesn't forget. I...wish he didn't forget the sparkling either, and it just got my mind going to places I didn't want it to go.~

She took a moment to try to figure out how to explain. ~On some level I think that if I just try hard enough, give him enough, love him enough, I could somehow be more than just one more among so many. Self centered and immature, but it's there in me.~

~It's _natural_,~ he corrected her gently. ~It is in everyone to want to be special.~ He caressed her gently with a finger. ~You already are special to him. You chose him, you love him. There are only a handful that would have chosen him above many without my being there. He may not express it well in trying to protect himself, but never doubt that you are one of the special ones for him, mech or organic. You know how few accept him outside the core of SpecOps.~

She smiled at that. ~I know, Hound, and I feel it, but he'll never say it, so it is easy to get convinced that I'm deluding myself on my less emotionally secure days. But all I have to do is look at his actions and I know. I guess that learning that he's editing his memories of the new spark bothered me more than I realized,~ she admitted, ~and the sense that he is only worth the missions he can perform, whatever the cost to him. I love him for who he is.~

~Yes, that is second creation Towerling code at its most basic,~ Hound vented a deep gust of air. ~He only heals himself partially. You've been there for what comes next; a spark merge that isn't for pleasure. He needs to be reminded that he's worth more than his missions and a little bit of acceptance and waking up his emotional subroutines.~

~Love, I can't imagine what it would be like if he didn't have you. Is it just my own prejudice and western mindset in thinking that coding is cruel?~ she asked as she took the mental steps she needed to prepare herself for what was coming.

~Yes and no,~ he smiled down at her and stroked her back gently. ~Cruelty is a matter of perception, so it can't be stated as anything other than an opinion. It is, however, a perception that we share.~

Hound had a nearly magic way of centering Alicia with his patient, loving, calm presence in her mind. By the time they opened the door to the fully remodeled LORENS station, she felt ready for anything.

~Good,~ Hound brushed against her mind and stepped inside and focused on Mirage. ~Love, would you turn down the temperature in the bath so Alicia can join us?~

~Of course,~ Mirage brushed against him eagerly. ~It should be acceptable for her when you get here.~

The door slid open and Hound walked quickly through the common area, intent on the washracks and pool attached to the main quarters.

~Mirage has spent _a lot_ of time without his armor,~ Alicia commented lightly. ~If he were organic, he would be thoroughly pruned by now.~

~Fortunately I am not one,~ he teased her back and rolled over in the hot oil to watch them come in.

~You are incorrigible,~ Hound stifled a laugh as he put Alicia down near the edge and began to strip down to his protoform as well. ~But it is a rare treat to enjoy so much time reasonably safe to be this bare.~

Alicia remembered with a shiver the first time she had felt the pure sensuousness of their bare forms sliding against one another in a pleasure and intimacy far older than that of their more recent, socket-centered history. She hoped that unlike the previous time, she would actually have the opportunity to touch and be close to them, unlike before she had been claimed. It seemed impossible to her that her claiming had been so recent, and yet it had happened less than a month ago.

She watched as Hound slid into the oil next to Mirage and drew him close. Forehelm to forehelm they relaxed in the silent, still embrace. It wasn't even a signal across the bond that she could detect when they brought their spark chambers to the surface and spiraled them open with no effort to arouse before the coronas touched.

A wild range of emotions that were not her own ran through Alicia faster than she could track. The clearest to her were Hound's sadness that Mirage would edit this particular memory, his acceptance and understanding of why his bondmate did so. Then an uncharacteristically fierce and commanding demand that Mirage _feel_ the value he had to Hound beyond anything he ever did in the service of the Autobots or Jazz, no matter what state his emotional subroutines were left in when the orn came that he no longer served in SpecOps.

Feeling Mirage respond to that demand was both amazing and terrifying. In a matter of heartbeats he'd shifted to the far more familiar thought processes, forcibly shutting down protocols and activating others without question or hesitation. He felt the loss, a momentary confusion, and settled into a state that his bonded wished of him.

The merge deepened to the point where Alicia could no longer recognize whose emotion belonged to whom. She was breathless at the intensity of it, and that they kept the bond so open to her despite her not being connected. She found herself with countless questions about _why_ Mirage complied so quickly, with no resistance or argument, and if it was so simple for him to change his emotional responses and mindset, which one was truly his?

Neither of her mechs answered as they reluctantly separated, slowly and affectionately. But when Mirage was lax in Hound's embrace, she felt him reach out to her.

~I am a second creation Tower's noble,~ he explained first in the way most mechs would understand. ~As long as I keep my heritage, my existence, on the most fundamental level, is to please my bonded, then my House Lord and those above him. It literally goes against my most core programming to not immediately and completely comply to any demand from Hound, Jazz or Prime.~

Alicia slipped into the bath, immersing herself up to her neck in the warm, thick fluid and made her way to her lovers. ~You've told me that before, but I think this is the first time I've really felt what it means.~

Mirage reached out to her. ~Unfortunately, you are likely to have many more occasions to witness this aspect of my nature. I'm not ready to give up being a Tower noble.~

Alicia's gaze was riveted on her lovers' exposed spark chambers. Seeing the glow of the very core of who they were, of their living souls that she gave life to made it difficult for her to think about anything else. She shyly touched Mirage's forearm, still uncertain how much she was allowed to touch his armor-less frame now that she was claimed.

~Is it unfortunate? If it is so basic to who you are? It isn't for me to judge, my love, only to try to understand.~

~It is unfortunate because it causes both of you pain,~ he murmured and curled his fingers around her to draw her close to them. ~Everything I am is to please those close to me, not hurt them.~

Alicia was not sure how to respond. There was simply no way her lover could please all those close to him all of the time, or even avoid causing pain. His authentic, core desire to please those close to him was something she deeply valued and loved in him, and also saw the shadow side of, the conflicts and pain it caused him.

~I love you, Mirage. I believe I would have chosen you regardless of whether Hound was there to smooth the way ... at least if you had given me any opportunity to know you like you have. Everything in me is to love the two of you, as strange and alien as your feelings and core programming can be to this little organic brain. Thanks for helping me to understand.~

~You are welcome,~ Mirage murmured after suppressing a flash of reflexive _panic-confusion_ at her declaration. A gentle wash of pleasure caressed her body before she could processes his emotional reaction, trying to distract her from even trying.

~Now just wait, I'm not distracted that easily. Why does my reaction confuse or panic you? Help me to understand.~ She looked toward Hound as well.

~Love is an alien emotion in the Towers, not something in their basic emotional protocols,~ the scout explained as he drew his bonded close and stroked him, long and slowly. ~It's marked as dangerous.~

Mirage snuggled into the contact, drawing comfort from it as his processors settled into the new protocol priorities. ~Give it a few joor and it won't feel so unsettling.~

Alicia made an understanding sound, relaxing into Mirage's hand that held her at chest level between him and Hound, no longer making any effort to distract herself from her desire for them with the next batch of questions the explanation raised for her. It was enough to _feel_ the affection and tenderness that came from him that her brain interpreted as love.


	62. Important Update Notice

Story Notice:  
**Chapters 41 & 42 (Fear & Fire chs. 3 & 4 InternoxRed AlertxMaggie Madsen)** Are now posted, replacing the incomplete chapter notices sent out earlier. Please review, it makes our muses so happy and leads to kinky things

**_If you happen to be subscribed to this story, but not Sockets as an author, we wanted to let you know that we have recently posted several other sockets-related stories in the same 'Verse as Dathana de Gray._**

**Dark Nobility** is set in the future - Alicia and Mirage are walking near Skyfire's lab when an accident sends them to an alternate dimension where the war never took pace and organics are treated as little better than pets or slaves.

**Before Dathana de Gray** is contains prequel stories to the current story arc including Prowl, Red Alert and Inferno's arrival on earth and Jazz's ressurection.

**Full Circle** is the story of Prowl & Jazz from nearly the beginning of Cybertron to thousands of vorns after the events of our main story arc. It explains just who these two are, and why they are so different from other Cybertonians.

**Some Things Never Change** is a oneshot about the growing love between Skyfire and Wheeljack.

**The Naturalists First Christmas** Alicia brings her mechs home to Northern New Mexico for Christmas, and it doesn't go as any of them expected.

**Starscream's Belle** Two vorn after he arrives on Earth, Starscream is brought out of stasis in Ratchet's medbay, his processors unscrambles from thousands of vorn of charging in the generators while partially online. Will he be willing to charge his spark with a socket? Annabelle Lennox, who is more than experienced with converting 'cons, volunteers to be his first share.

**_We will be updating with the remaining chapters of Dathana de Gray soon, and then will be moving on to completing Dark Nobility and starting the next story arc of Dathana de Gray, set in the future. We hope you continue to enjoy. Please, please review. It feeds our muses energon treats and makes them happy and productive. Also, look for other DdG related stories to be posted soon. Subscribe to sockets as an author so you won't miss them. Thanks again for reading! It is so thrilling to know people are enjoying our work._**


	63. HP 23, FL 10, EB 3:  Breaking Points

**Fandom**: Transformers Bayverse  
**Author**: gatekat and femme4jack on LJ  
**Pairing**: Jazz/Prowl/Miles Lancaster, Chromia/Ironhide/Will Lennox/Sarah Lennox, Ratchet/Mikaela Banes, Jolt/Killblade/Bluestreak  
**Rating**: NC-17 mech/mech/mech sticky  
**Codes**: Slash, Sticky, Xeno  
**Summary**: Despite it being a party, several mechs are near breaking point with each other. Even the 'Cons seem to know to stay away. However, Jolt and Killblade find some time amid the infighting to have a very interesting date.  
**Notes**: Written in the Dathanna de Gray fanverse (community .livejournal .com/ tf_socket_fics)  
We have edited the minor mentions of Cathy (Blue's socket in POV collective verse), who belongs to Baka_no_Neko out of DdG verse. Not because of any issues with her or her writer, but because we wanted to give Blue a larger role and didn't want the issues involved with having someone else's character involved with a major character. So Cathy was replaced by:  
**Yevette Williams**, NEST soldier, African American, born and raised in Atlanta, Georgia. She is a sharp shooter, assertive, tough, masculine. They met when Bluestreak was training human snipers on exactly where they needed to hit the 'Cons to get through their armor.  
**"text"** Cybertronian speech  
"text" organic languages  
~text~ bond or cable talk  
::text:: comm chatter

* * *

**Hunting Pleasure 23  
Frontliners 10  
Electric Blades 3:  
Breaking Points**

* * *

Mikaela let her eyes sweep the medbay as she walked in. It was still a domain divided. Ratchet and First Aid had two-thirds of it cordoned off where several mechs from Long Shot were in stasis and being repaired. That was the organized chaos of a field camp. Her section was largely empty and better stocked than she'd seen it since the beginning. Her 'assistant', Jolt, was the only one present there.

_He_ looked fidgety as hell too.

"You are as restless as Ironhide without a weapons range or a Con to blow up. You ok?" she asked, walking over to the new medic apprentice who was already beginning to feel like a friend.

"Yes, yes, I'm okay," he nodded, having only barely suppressed twitching in surprise at her voice.

She watched him draw in a deep vent, his armor shifting outward in a purely defensive posturing he likely wasn't even aware of.

"I have a favor," he got out in as rush. "Please?"

Mikaela snorted and grinned at him. "I bet you have a lot of favors, Jolt. Just which one did you have in mind to give me? Ratchet is a sharing sort of mech, after all." She deftly climbed up the ladder to her examination berth so she could speak to him on a more equal level.

His optics cycled as confusion flickered across his features, but it sufficed to work him out of his nervous state.

"I said that wrong," he amended in a hurry. "I need your assistance," he tried again and pulled a finely crafted wooden sphere engraved and inlaid with an overlapping fractal design of some kind. "Give this to Killblade for me? Please?"

Mikaela smirked at him, taking the sphere which was twice the size of a basketball, but surprisingly light weight. She'd have no trouble carrying it, unlike the abstract, glyph-covered stone carving she'd managed to deliver for Killblade with a forklift.

"This is the third time this month, Jolt. You know, I thought my note-passing days were over when I became the first member of the Banes family to actually graduate from high school. I'll do it, but first you get to tell me what the hell is up with all of the secret gifts and messages? It's adorable and all, but why don't you just give 'em to each other yourselves?"

"Custom," he said simply and sat down on the berth next to her with a settling of armor plates. "Where I'm from, courting was a rather long and involved process if it wasn't arranged. He's going with my customs because he wasn't raised with any. I only have a basic understanding of what's to happen. Our creators would normally have overseen the entire processes, deliver the gifts and make sure we didn't do anything stupid. If they couldn't or wouldn't, a manager or an already bonded friend would suffice."

Mikaela raised her eyebrows, intrigued to learn about more of the elaborate courting rites and rituals she found so endlessly fascinating. "So, in this case, am I taking the place of ... bonded friend because I'm Ratchet's claimed socket? Or manager because technically you are my assistant? I somehow can't imagine you asking Ratchet to deliver the gifts," she added with a laugh at the mental image of Ratchet playing the part of Yente in Fiddler on the Roof.

"A bit of both," he decided. "I can't bother Ratchet or Chromia with this, and I don't know any of the bonded couples on base well enough. Not really."

"So, what else can I expect to see from the two of you in the courting process, besides lots of armor puffing and strutting from your bladewarrior? And just how _long_ is this long and complicated process, anyhow? Will I be dead and gone before you get to third base?"

Jolt ducked his head and grinned sheepishly. "It's a little turned around because of the war and all. We should barely be holding hands and kissing, but we've been casual lovers for vorns. It's only since we landed that he said he wanted to court me, to be more than just casual lovers." He looked down at his hands, fidgeting again. "The first gift he gave me was to signal that he was interested in me. When I gave a gift in return, I accepted his advances. There's no real set time for how long the dating and gift exchanges go on. We're still trying to work out who would be stand-in creators. Mine are long gone and he never had them."

"You probably have no idea how much I can identify with both of your situations in the creator department. So, what does this make you? Engaged?" Mikaela briefly wondered if they'd appreciate any human customs, such as an engagement photo or party.

"Ummm," he hummed uncertainly. "I believe the best comparison to your stages would be that we're boyfriends. After our creators are introduced and accept it, we'd have some kind of visible mark of our relationship and would be ... engaged, I think. If a couple wishes to bond, they ask their creators and make a public announcement where objections can be voiced and challenges for one or the other issued. Before the war kin and friends gave speeches about how good the couple was for each other. The longer the speeches and party went on, the more favorable the union was viewed. Most take at least a couple hundred vorns to get as far as we are now.

"What you call being engaged, the pre-bonded status, was usually for one to five vorns. Originally it was so the news could travel across Cybertron and to plan the bonding ceremony and celebration. It was common to spend a hundred vorns income for the immediate family on it, even for the poorest mechs. It's the biggest deal in anyone's life. Many creators would begin saving for it before they had the sparkling, and most mech would save from the orn they were sparked."

"Wow, and I thought human weddings were expensive. 8300 years of income? Of course, bonding is a whole lot bigger deal than a marriage. So...how long will it be before we get to have a massive engagement party for the two of you?" Mikaela gave Jolt a wink. "You two are adorable together. I'd like to be around to see it, you know, as your go between. It would kind of suck to spend 1000 years passing gifts back and forth between you and never get to see you take the next step."

"Actually it would be 49,800 years of income," he chuckled. "A hundred vorns income for all four creators and both those to bond," he flickered his armor in embarrassment. "Many couples never go past this dating stage, or the next. But for timing ... I don't know. My home city, Protihex, was well known for courting a long time, taking several hundred if not thousands of vorns. But with all that's going on, I doubt we'll take a vorn between steps."

"I'm sorry...I'm not sure I heard the rest. My little organic brain stopped processing at 49,800 years of income. And of course, it would take much longer than that, because it's not like you can just stop spending any money for 49,800 years. Did anyone ever just elope?" Mikaela lifted up the stunning wooden ball to look at it once again.

"Of course," he nodded easily. "For many reasons, though it was generally because one set of creators or both objected to the union. I said a hundred vorns income for all four creators and both those to bond. Many couples never go past this dating stage, or the next. But for timing ... I don't know. My home city, Protihex, was well known for courting a long time, taking several hundred if not thousands of vorns. But with all that's going on, I doubt we'll take a vorn between steps."

Mikaela burst out laughing. For a moment she could hardly say a thing after he repeated precisely what he'd said before. "Oh God, Jolt, I keep having to remind myself just how literally you take things I say. My brain didn't _really_ stop processing. It was just a way of expressing how mind blowing a figure it is that you're talking about," she shook her head and wiped a tear from her eyes. "I'm going to go deliver your lovely gift to your boyfriend. Should I take it to him on the training grounds so he can get all puffy and strut his mech stuff for everyone when he receives it? You make this, by the way?"

"Please do," he shivered in excitement at the thought. "Yes, I did, with some help from Mirage and Hound."

"It is lovely," she said, climbing onto his offered hand to lower her to the floor so she didn't have to climb a ladder with his gift. "Does the design have any particular meaning?"

Jolt looked flustered as he set her down, his armor shifting randomly. "It's a geometric based on the first time we sparred."

"Did I say something wrong?" she asked, concerned as she saw his reaction. "If I'm going to be the messenger, I'd better know the rules."

"No, no," he assured her quickly. "You did nothing wrong. I'm just not used to talking about such ... personal ... things with anyone. I need to get used to it."

"We humans do tend to error on the side of openness about matters of the heart," Mikaela grinned at him, relieved. "Any secret or deliberately public messages you want me to give to your boyfriend upon delivery?"

"No," he smiled with a mixture of shyness and gratitude. "He knows what it means. Thank you, Mikaela."

"No problem, I think it's adorable," she gave him a final wink and stepped forward to make the delivery, only to freeze when she saw a visitor drive up. "I need to deal with this first, then I'll deliver your present, okay?" she glanced up at Jolt.

"No problem," he agreed easily and stepped away to check inventory, curious what the TIC was here for.

"Hello, Mikaela," Prowl greeted her evenly. "I received a message that the supplies are ready?"

"Of course," she smiled and tucked the wooden sphere under the berth where it was unlikely to be damaged and trotted towards a crate nearly as tall as she was and twice as long. "Everything is here. The datapad inside spells it all out. Though I did want to double check that it's _Jazz_ that's going to carry?"

"Yes, we agreed that he is the better choice," Prowl graced her with a nearly-there smile. "I may have the larger frame, but he has successfully carried before and knows what to expect. He has the stronger spark as well."

She gave a hum of understanding while regarding the size of the crate. "I'm guessing you won't need any help with this, not that there is anything I could do 'sides driving it over on a forklift, and since a certain mech banned me from driving for two decaorn..." Mikaela winked at Prowl who had given her the sentence with good humor after she'd done minor damage trying to chase down Ratchet with a tank she'd 'borrowed'.

"Do not worry," Prowl's faint smile remained as he easily picked up the crate. "I am capable of transporting it. Simply remember not to hit anything other than Ratchet the next time you chase him with heavy equipment."

"You have my word, Prowl. You two are going to make such wonderful creators. Have fun knocking up your mech." She gave him a wave, picked up the wooden ball and headed toward her latest delivery.

* * *

Sarah looked on excitedly from Ironhide's shoulder. The past few months had been an absolute riot from a mech-watching perspective. Between her own mech and Chromia, Drift and Perceptor, Skyfire and Wheeljack, Sunstreaker, Sideswipe and Shimmerfire and Jolt and Killblade, the base seemed to be infected with some kind of love bug. Then there were all the established couples going bonkers over making sparklings.

~Don't forget the insane rush to claim sockets as soon as Prime approved,~ Ironhide chuckled as she spotted Ratchet and Mikaela towards the edge of a huge bonfire that would no doubt have a rather impressively primitive display of testosterone going on in a few hours when certain organics - human and otherwise, male and otherwise - got drunk enough to not give a damn about social norms anymore.

::Hey Mik!:: Sarah commed the other woman while they were still outside easy talking range. ::What's the latest tidbits on JK?::

::Oh girlfriend, it's good. I delivered yet another gift yesterday, and got the scoop on how this would all be working if they were back on Cybertron. Do you know that a bonding ceremony usually costs 48000 _years_ worth of income?::

Sarah could see Mikaela saying something to Ratchet, and soon the medics were heading to stand next to them.

::600 vorns? Damn, and I thought our weddings could get expensive,:: Sarah murmured in shock.

~You have no idea,~ Ironhide chuckled. ~That's the _minimum_ in many places. Protihex is actually known to be on the cheep side because the courting is so long and public a processes.~

::Think about it in terms of lifetime income,:: Ratchet broke in with an amused rumble of his own. ::It's a great deal of money, but it's also a fraction of what many organic races do when you put it in perspective.::

::Ok, that is too much math for me,:: Mikaela admitted. ::So, what percentage of one's lifetime income would 600 vorns worth be if translated into a normal human life expectancy?::

::It's only a hundred vorns for each mech, there are six involved,:: the CMO corrected as he came to a stop next to Ironhide and brushed the old warrior's knuckles with his own in an affectionate gesture. ::Take an average of a ten million vorn lifespan, which was accurate enough before the war for the kind of mechs who bonded. A hundred vorns is 8.3-6 of that.::

::You all really do have a lot longer to save for retirement,:: Sarah grinned. ::Ok, I guess it isn't as extreme as it sounded at first.::

::We don't normally retire until we can't function anymore,:: Ratchet pointed out. ::By then, it's rare to last more than a few vorns.::

Mikaela looked at her mech with a slight frown on her face. ::You know, every once in awhile I get tired of realizing just how fucking short my life span is...even my new lifespan.::

::Will and I call it the mayfly-effect,:: Sarah said knowingly. ::They have a lifespan of 30 minutes.::

::You _did_ ask,:: Ratchet grumbled, clearly as unhappy with the mayfly-effect as his socket.

"Okay, back to better topics, the various lovebirds on base," Sarah grinned, her eyes sliding over to where Jolt and Killblade were doing an admirable job of restraining themselves to just touching hands. "Though I don't get why they behave like that now, when yesterday Will saw Killblade pin Jolt against a wall and take him like Prowl did to Jazz a while back."

"Oh, Jolt explained that one to me," Mikaela said, Ratchet's mental caresses lifting her mood. "Highly public dating is part of the courting traditions in Jolt's city of origin. Chaste touches and kissing were the only intimacy permitted until their creators had given permission for them to proceed to the next stage. When they did move on to what we'd call getting engaged, friends and family had to testify how that they'd seen the couple behaving appropriately and honorably."

Sarah gave a giggle as Killblade said something that made Jolt look dreamily into the bladewarrior's optics.

"They are _so_ cute," she grinned. "The sparklings are going to be so adorable. Who are they likely to take after more?"

"Much will depend on the coding Jolt gives the protoform, who donates the most protomass, and, most especially, what spark Primus sends them. At least, that is how it worked with the Allspark. I honestly have no idea how much this type of creation changes the equation," Ratchet explained, as fascinated by courting couple as the human women were.

Several members of Chromia's cadre approached the two, and Killblade instantly was in his full, puffed up, preening glory, while Jolt engaged them in a conversation which, judging from his hand movements, was about everything he was learning in Medbay under Ratchet's tutelage.

"Do they even realize it when that coding kicks in?" Mikaela laughed.

"Very, very few do," Ratchet chuckled himself. "Some aspects, yes. Many of the signals, like that puffing up, has always been part of our culture, even when we had no idea why it was attractive. It's as inherent in us as flashing his tail is in a peacock or locking antlers is for deer."

"God, I love this," Sarah nuzzled Ironhide. "It makes all of you seem ... well ... so much more like us in a way. Helps counteract that mayfly-effect to see mechs acting on instinct to reproduce the way we organics do. And to think we try regularly to deny just how much of our behavior is coded into us genetically, or even culturally."

"While we take comfort in it, on the whole," Ratchet smiled at her. "It is one of two things that every Cybertronian, even Jazz, has in common. Our base code and a spark from Primus."

"Jazz does not seem to think his spark comes from Primus," Sarah commented, watching her mech carefully for any signs of a Jazz-related meltdown.

"Jazz thinks a lot of slag," the black mech grumbled.

"The truth is I've been up close and personal with that spark as a medic, and there is no way a spark not of Primus could bond with one that is. There's no doubt that Prowl came strait from the Allspark. Prime was there."

"That is a relief to hear," Sarah said, running a soothing hand down Ironhide's neck cabling. "I had figured as much. But speaking of Prowl, what effect does being a preprogrammed mech have on this whole courting process?"

Her eyes were glued on Killblade, who had begun to trade pre-sparring insults with Drift while Perceptor and Jolt traded a few friendly barbs as well. The difference between the two sets was almost complete. Drift was tightly controlled while Killblade was wild. Perceptor was quiet and introverted while Jolt was vocal and excited. Good matches with their chosen lovers, but near polar opposites.

"With few exceptions, most pre-programmed mechs come with some level of emotional programming, so they take on whatever culture they are activated into, whether it's a class, such as the bladebrothers, or a city, like Prowl," Ratchet explained. "Those that don't start with emotions, like Prowl and Smokescreen, will usually take whatever culture they are most involved in once they are upgraded with them. Praxis, in both their cases."

"For warriors, we don't really court," Ironhide added, watching eagerly as the youthful sparked purposed warrior worked against trained perfection. "We 'face, we fight, we train. If it goes beyond that, it just happens. We aren't much on permanent bonds."

"Except Killblade is going out of his way to try to court Jolt properly, and both of them assume this is heading towards a permanent bond. I should know, I'm their intermediary for trading gifts, and that in itself is intentional courting behavior," Mikaela said with a questioning look toward Ironhide. "Even the fact that two mechs who face each other publicly and have been casually facing for as long as they served together are now on a date where they will only touch each other's hands says a hell of a lot about just how seriously they are taking this whole courting thing."

"Properly for a Protihex mech," the old warrior corrected. "Praxis, what Prowl made Jazz do, was a very different thing. Every city had its own procedure, and several classes did as well. But yes, they are very serious," he didn't completely keep the disapproval from his voice. "They're good with each other, but warriors bonding isn't right, especially in war."

Sarah gave Mikaela a long-suffering look, but did not share her opinions about the conflict between Ironhide's objections to bonding and his deep desire for sparklings of his own.

Ratchet's optics took on a pensive look as he turned his attention toward the sparring match. "Sometimes I think we've let this damn war make too many of our decisions for us. I wonder if we'd perhaps tried harder to live rather than simply survive, we might not be in a better position now," the medic's voice had none of its usual stubborn, sarcasm-laced tone.

"Or you might not exist at all," Sarah said quietly, stroking Ironhide even as she saw Mikaela do the same with Ratchet. "You have the chance to bring back so much of what you lost in the next thousand vorns, or build something completely new, something that isn't divided as much. As much as it's painful to lose what you were, it's cultural differences, a lack of understanding and acceptance, that creates so much of the violence of today."

"We _are_ making something new," Ratchet commented softly. "One of the reasons I enjoy watching those two. Back on Cybertron, before the war, preprogrammed mechs did not bond. They were second-class citizens, sometimes viewed as little more than drones. Mechs rarely courted out of class, or even outside of their own city. There were exceptions, but we were a rigid society in many respects. Now Killblade is going out of his way to try to respect Jolt's customs, and together, they are creating customs of their own. I expect many more of us will bond when the war is over."

"But what about Jazz and Prowl?" Mikaela asked.

"One, that's _Jazz_. Second, it was well after the war started," Ironhide spoke up. "That silver sociopath was a Con for too long."

The other three made a point of ignoring Ironhide's jab against the SIC, as did Jazz who had heard every word, though it wasn't ignored by the black and white mech on the other side of the bonfire with him.

Prowl stood with the grace of one who knew their body inside and out in the most literal ways and walked directly for Ironhide.

~He looks ... _angry_,~ Mikaela said with a sense of fear-dread as she eyed the approaching mech. ~I didn't think he got angry.~

~He _is_ angry, and for good reason. Ironhide makes his dislike of Jazz far too public, and forgets that as much as we may disagree with his tactics, we probably would not be alive now without them. Jazz has proven himself thousands of times over. No matter how he came to us or what he did before, Jazz is one of us now, as good an Autobot as any of us.~

Ratchet placed a hand on Ironhide's shoulder, attempting to calm him and get him to back down.

~An apology would set things to right,~ Ratchet continued, ~but Hide does not apologize, unless one happens to be his mate, his claimed socket or their offspring.~

**"Ironhide,"** Prowl's smooth, even vocals held a dissonant harmonic that caught the attention of every mech that heard it. **"Because Jazz has asked me to, I have turned a deaf audio to your vitriol."** His golden optics hardened even more, and those watching Jazz saw how much the silver mech _didn't_ want this confrontation to happen in his distressed shifting of armor. **"That ends now. Jazz is second only to the Prime in rank. You will respect that as you respect every other proven officer."**

~Hide,~ Sarah warned as the warrior expanded his armor and let out a low growl. Jazz _would_ defend his bonded, as would Prowl, and the last thing the base needed was their officers fighting.

**"Jazz's illegal actions are _never_ punished, Prowl, because he is _your_ bonded,"** Ironhide's voice was deadly and quiet, his weapons offline only because of the socket on his shoulder. **"I will _never_ remain silent about what he did to Miles. It was not only unethical, it was completely illegal by the oaths all of us have sworn to regarding freedom of choice and self-determination for the sentient we protect. Yet there he stands, not in the brig, but free to flaunt that he can get away with actions no other mech in this army can, simply because he is _your_ bonded."**

**"You have misjudged the situation,"** Prowl held back a growl, well-controlled emotions beginning to slip loose. **"I have never shielded him from Prime. I never will. If you disagree with the Prime's actions, you should take it up with him. What _I_ will not accept is any creation of mine hearing you speak ill of my bonded. This ends now, before our sparkling is kindled."**

**"I would _never_ speak ill of a creator in front of a sparkling,"** Hide bellowed, causing Sarah to flinch and desperately try to calm him with her hands. He gave her an apologetic look, and continued in a softer, but just as deadly voice.

**"I am a _guardian_ Prowl. Surely you know what that base code means. Every time I _think_ about what was done to your socket, that coding kicks in as if the lad were my own charge. How dare you claim I would _ever_ do something that would harm the young of any species, including our own!"**

**"This isn't about Miles and you know it,"** Prowl said stiffly, his own anger unfurling like a cobra rearing its head. **"You have..."**

Suddenly Jazz's hand was on Prowl's arm, his visor, his entire manner all but begging his bonded to let this go.

**"He hates me,"** Jazz spoke softly. **"He had damn good reason to. If he can't let it go, you have to. It's not like any sparkling of mine won't know what I am long before they meet anyone else."**

It seemed to take a lot of the fire from Prowl's temper, but not enough. He looked at Jazz, then glared at Ironhide. **"You will keep your vocalizer mute against Jazz."**

"Keep quiet and let go that he tortured my socket and sent her to the generators?" Ironhide hissed, one of his cannons spinning dangerously, though still not online. "Damn right I won't let go of that. It _is_ about Miles, and every other organic here. I will never feel they are safe with _him_ around, and now he is infecting the minds of my sockets and has them telling me they are going to get the same killer nanites that Miles has." Ironhide deliberately spoke in English, his statement eliciting gasps from Mikaela and every other human in hearing range.

"Enough Ironhide!" Sarah yelled. ~How dare you assume Will and I do not have the capacity to make our own choices. I am sorry and angry about what happened to your socket, but you are harming the Autobots by doing this in public. Prowl is _right_ to call you on this. Speak to them in private, or with Prime. Don't undermine the chain of command by doing this where everyone can hear!~

"All you need to do to be rid of me forever is to convince Prime to let me go," Jazz spoke in English as well. His voice hardened. "Until then, I am your superior officer and you will treat me as such or face the consequences."

"I gave up trying to convince Prime long ago, _Sir_," Ironhide easily made the title an insult.

~Ironhide, please, for the love of God, let it go. Stop this before you end up in the brig or worse. Let's go home, or go to the range so you can cool down,~ Sarah begged, watching Prowl's fists tighten. In her estimation, her presence on Ironhide's shoulder was the only reason the pair hadn't come to hard blows yet, and probably wouldn't.

"Then mute it, _soldier_," Jazz hissed back in insult and reminder of their relative rank all in one.

::Ironhide, Ratchet, Prowl, Jazz. My office. _NOW_. Bring Sarah and Mikaela.:: Prime's _open_ transmission informed them all that he'd been told of the exchange, and he was _furious_.

Sarah and Mikaela gave one another a worried look as the entire contingent of humans and Autobots at the bonfire stared at them. Prowl was the first to depart, his sensor wings held stiff and high. The rest followed. One did not hesitate when Prime gave an order in that tone. Neither woman missed that Chromia, Whiplash, Starjumper, Silver Shadow, and Will Lennox trailed them, or that Mirage made a move, but Hound stopped him.

They couldn't hear the quiet exchange between the bonded pair, but Mirage settled down in Hound's arms after a moment.

When they reached the office, they had nothing to focus on save Prime's standing form, his power all but radiating in his tightly leashed anger.

"Sarah, please state what you witnessed," he kept his voice level for her.

Sarah looked at Prime and spoke in a voice shaking with emotion. "Ratchet, Mikaela, Ironhide and I were watching Killblade and Drift spar, and were discussing courting customs and how things have changed. Ratchet mentioned that before the war, preprogrammed mechs did not bond. Mikaela asked about Jazz and Prowl, and Ironhide explained that it was well into the war, and then called Jazz a sociopath who had been a 'Con for far too long."

The entire room was all too aware of the new wave of tension that passed through the tactician, though he displayed only a quiver of his sensor wings and tightened his fists. Jazz's hand went to his arm, a touch meant to calm, though it didn't help much. The silver mech was near his own breaking point, having rarely been the one who had to be calm for them.

She took a deep breath, clearly trying to remain objective, an apologetic hand on Ironhide's neck cabling as she met Prime's optics.

"Prowl approached us and stated that he would no longer overlook Ironhide's insults to his superior officer even though Jazz asked him to, he spoke in Cybertronian, but Hide translated for me as he always does. Ironhide ... Hide said that Jazz's actions toward Miles were illegal, and that Jazz should be in the brig, but that he got away with it because of who he is bonded with. Prowl told Ironhide that his perception was not correct and that he should bring it up with you, sir, and that he could not abide by Ironhide speaking ill of their future creation's carrier. Ironhide became very upset at that point, and stated that his guardian code would not allow him to ever speak ill of a carrier in front of a sparkling and that it was the same code that made him so concerned for Miles and the other sockets on base."

Sarah glanced at Jazz, who looked ... incredibly tired to her, in the way she'd seen soldiers that were at the end of their ability to cope. She turned back toward Prime.

"Prowl said that it was not about Miles and Ironhide knew it, and at that point Jazz intervened, asking Prowl to drop it, that Hide hated him and had reason for it, and if Hide couldn't let it go, at least they needed to. Hide...then changed to English and said that it was about Miles, and every other socket on base because Jazz had tortured Hide's socket and sent him to the generators when he was a 'Con. He also stated that Jazz had ... somehow convinced Will and I to want to the same nanite programming Miles had. I challenged Ironhide on this through our bond, asked him to move the conversation somewhere private so it didn't disrupt the chain of command. Jazz reminded Ironhide that he was his superior officer and that until you let him go, he would be, so Hide should take it up with you. I asked Ironhide through our bond to let it go and leave, go to the range and cool off. Ironhide said that he had given up trying to convince you, Jazz ordered him to 'mute it', and then you commed us, sir."

"Mikaela, do you have anything to add?" Prime turned to the other woman.

Mikaela was obviously shaken. Ratchet was holding her in his hand and stroking her back with a large finger.

"I have plenty of opinions, but nothing factual to add. Neither Sarah or I have verbatim memories, but that was the gist of it."

"I would like to hear your opinions, now that you both agree on what you perceived," Prime spoke gently, his rage clearly reserved for his officers.

"I think both were in the wrong, sir," Mikaela said, her eyes now raised in a nearly defiant look. "Ironhide does insult Jazz regularly, which is not good for the chain of command and needs to stop. But that comment would have been the end of it at the bonfire. Prowl could have confronted Ironhide in private. Doing it in public simply escalated the situation. And Ironhide does have one point. Practically everyone on base knows now what was programmed into Miles nanites without his consent. The fact that there was no outward sign of consequence for that action has made all of the organics on base question just exactly what our rights are. I've spoken with Miles, I understand that he has forgiven Jazz and wants to stay with them. I like Jazz. I trust him. I believe he had Miles' best interests in mind, but the lack of any public consequence makes it seem like he is above the law here, and it doesn't sit well with me for anyone to be in that position, whether Ironhide or Jazz."

Prime nodded and focused on Sarah once more. "Do you have any opinions to add?"

"I'm so close to the situation and it is very difficult to be objective about those I love," Sarah said, looking exhausted herself, continuing to run her hand along Ironhide's neck cabling in a fairly futile attempt to calm the mech who was a coil of barely restrained rage. "I absolutely understand and sympathize with my mech's pain regarding the past, but I agree with Prowl that the public barbing must stop. It isn't good for anyone. Trust and respect for the chain of command is essential for any military unit. I didn't know before tonight ... what had happened to Hide's socket early in the war. Will and I thought it likely he had lost someone close to him to Jazz. It has helped me understand a lot of the conflict in our family recently, as well as the strength of his feelings. I also think that Prowl and Jazz have been through so much, and have hardly had a moment to deal with it. I don't agree with Mik that Jazz needs some sort of public punishment, but I do think that things need to be explained to those on base. Too much around here happens through the grapevine. For the record, Jazz never did anything to try to convince Will or I to want kill-protocols in our nanites. Military and Ranger experience has done that."

Prime nodded to them both. "Thank you. Please return to the festivities, or you may wait outside with the others," he quirked a small smile at the women about the number of individuals who weren't going to celebrate while there was trouble.

"One more thing, Prime," Sarah said as she was placed on the ground to head out the door, her mech closed tight from her mind. "I believe that the situation with Miles should never have been allowed to become common knowledge on base. It should have been kept strictly between yourself, Miles, and the two mechs involved. I believe a great deal of pain and tension would have been avoided had that been the case."

Sarah gave her mech and the others a weak smile before putting an arm through the shaken Mikaela's and guiding them out of the door.

Once the door closed again, Prime focused on his old friend, trainer and guardian with a grim expression. **"Jazz has long been of the opinion that it is better to let those who hate him vent, no matter his rank or theirs. That suppressing it does more harm than the words. While I disagree, I have allowed it. Now I ask you, what will end this between you that does not involve at least one of you leaving my service?"**

**"He has never shown a lick of remorse for what he did to me and to mine,"** Ironhide growled. **"Would you have been able to forgive if he had been the one who had tortured and killed Melodia, rather than Megatron?"**

**"Likely not,"** Prime responded. **"It is not, however, a valid excuse for routinely trying to undermine my command staff. Your socket may not be aware of the role you played in how common the knowledge of Miles' nanites became on base, but I am. I am not pleased,"** he straitened, projecting his full natural authority. **"Jazz assured me the uproar will fade to little concern in time, like the other events of this nature you played a key part in. If it were just mechs, I would be inclined to agree, even if it sickens me to see my First Lieutenant accepting such slander as a matter of course.**"

**"But this, what you did today, did far more harm than Jazz's choice about Miles ever could,"** he fixed Ironhide with a deadly glare. **"You may well have caused irreparable harm to our alliance with these organics, all because you could not resist a chance to try and sway opinion against Jazz. Are you aware of the affect your barbs and hatred of him has on how people view _me_? View the Autobots as a whole? He may have done wrong, but that is _not_ an excuse to broadcast sensitive information to other parties. The only piece of the puzzle I don't have is how you found out about Miles in the first place. I know that no one who knew would have told you."**

His optics slid almost accusingly to Ratchet, who rattled his armor and rumbled. **"You know I'd go to the smelter before I betrayed a patient _or_ this command to _anyone_,"** the medic didn't control his snarl.

**"You have _never_ ordered me not to reveal what he did to my own!"** Ironhide exploded, his voice shaking the room as his barely contained rage exploded. **"And I said _nothing_ to anyone until my socket came back to me after speaking with _him_, wanting to have the same nanites Jazz used to _kill_ my socket after we rescued her from the generator he put her in!"**

Ironhide nearly sobbed the final words, before calming fractionally.

**"Slag you all. Put me in the brig for insubordination. At least it would show that _some_ command staff are punished for their misdeeds. He has never paid for what he did before the war, with the 'cons, or while serving with us. You treat him as though he were above the law when he should have been executed for war crimes a thousand times over! If you want to know how I found out, I stood guard outside their door along with Silver Shadow when _they_ were arguing about what happened, making sure things did not get out of hand. But I did not say a word to anyone until Will came to me asking for the same nanites that killed Symphonia, and then Sarah spoke with him and came home agreeing with the insane idea! And now Sarah wants the same for herself and Annabelle! My sockets and their sparkling!"**

**"You would have me punish all the former Decepticons in our ranks, all those who committed non-war crimes before joining us, or _just_ the one you have a personal grudge with?"** Prime leveled a demanding glared at him. **"As I recall, the mech who shared your berth just before Chromia arrived murdered hundreds of Autobots, has never denied it and has not been punished for any of it, nor will he be."**

**"Though I do wish to know one thing. Did your socket tell you who told him about the kill protocols?"** Prime's tone shifted to a note of curiosity rather than anger.

Ironhide looked like he was about to continue his rant, but paused, accessing his memories of the horrible and then wonderful decaorn that had started with Miles' abduction and ended with the arrival of Chromia.

**"Yes,"** he finally answered. **"When I was guarding their quarters, he could sense my concern and he told me he had been briefed ... by you. When he approached me a couple of days later regarding having them himself..."**

Ironhide trailed off, his processors finally connecting what everyone else had realized and his sockets had been trying to tell him. Jazz had nothing to do with his sockets wanting the kill protocols. Will had already made up his mind before leaving Prime's office.

**"Every time I see you near one of my sockets, I go mad with rage and grief. It has never faded,"** he admitted in a low rumble, his optics dimming as to not have to meet those of the other officers.

**"And the one thing you need from me I can't give,"** Jazz answered quietly. **"It's not in me to re-evaluate my past actions. Hardcoded access denial for my own protection. You've been around long enough to be at least peripherally aware of some major social changes. The only way to keep going after enough of them is to not look back with different optics. What I did was right at the time. I can say that it's wrong now, but you and I both know I can't _feel_ any remorse for what I did under a different society."**

**"Torturing an innocent is _never_ right, no matter what society we were a part of,"** Ironhide stated simply, his voice calm and cold. **"How can you claim something was _right_ then that was never right, at any time in our history? You were amoral long before the 'Cons, by the standards of every society you have been a part of, and you are responsible for your actions."**

Jazz cocked his head, his visor flickering a bit in amusement. **"Actually it's been a valued skill in many societies, both Decepticon and before. Alpha, Vector and Nova all made extensive use of me for it. Regardless, even if the society was just myself, my creations and bonded when I had one, the point stands. I'm hardwired against re-evaluating previous behavior when my morals have changed."**

Ironhide gave a low growl at the response. **"I said torturing innocents has never been right, not the occasional necessary torture of an enemy. No mech with a Prime spark would order the torture of a sparkling. That is what organics are compared to us. Vulnerable sparklings. Your morals change too easily. If something happened to Prowl, you could turn against every mech and human on this base, including your own socket. I will always see it as my duty to guard the vulnerable around me against what you were and what you could become."**

**"No Prime ever asked me to torture a sparkling or organic, but mechs that hadn't done anything to rate my attentions other than anger that Prime, there were a few,"** Jazz shrugged. **"For the rest, I never expect you to do anything else. In case you forgot, _I'm_ the one that asked that your anger not be punished. That's a battle I've clearly lost,"** he looked rather pointedly at Prowl. **"I still think it's better to leave you be, but it's no longer my choice. You are what you were sparked to be and you've held truer to that than almost anyone I've ever known,"** he didn't hide the honest respect he held for the trait.

Ironhide grunted his agreement with the final comment, the closest he could come to thanking this particular mech. Everyone was silent for half a clik as Ironhide's systems cooled. He finally spoke again, with a low, quiet rumble.

**"For Prowl's sake, and for the sake of Prime and the chain of command, and for my mate and sockets for whom my attitude is distressing, I will no longer make the comments I do in public places, in front of non-officers or organics. I will _not_ promise to hold back my suspicions and concerns from my fellow command officers, unless ordered to do so,"** he rumbled, giving a look at Prime, before his optics met Jazz's visor and he added, **"I do not want you anywhere near my sockets or their offspring, with the exception of Will where it is required for the sake of missions. This is for my sake and theirs. It causes me too much grief and rage, and complicates my relationship with them."**

**"I will not order you to withhold your opinion from me or other command officers in an appropriate setting,"** Prime said, relieved and more than a little amazed that this had gone down without violence. **"I do value you thoughts, old friend,"** he reached out to clasp Ironhide's shoulder.

**"It is their choice if they seek me out,"** Jazz countered. **"I will not go to them outside of my duties, but I will not turn them away if they look for me. Otherwise, agreed."**

Ironhide looked as though he were about to argue the final point, but an extra squeeze on his shoulder and adamant instructions from his all too independent sockets through their bond with him stopped him short. He grunted his agreement, needing more than ever to go to the range and slag every target there to their basic molecules. Then to take Chromia's valve and be taken by her with all the warrior strength they both carried.

**"Prowl?"** Prime focused on the mech who had brought this to a head but had otherwise remained quiet.

**"The terms are acceptable, all of them,"** he inclined his head to Prime.

**"I do have a question, old friend,"** Ironhide said in the calmest voice he had used thus far in the conversation. **"In all sincerity, and not because I bear a grudge. Why was Jazz _not_ punished for illegal modification of his socket's nanites without his socket's consent? Officers cannot be above the law, and Prowl would normally be the first to argue that."**

Prime kept his hand Ironhide's shoulder but his optics shifting to Prowl, who had stiffened again at Ironhide's question.**"Simply put, his socket did not wish to press charges, even after I gave him every opportunity to do so. He did this of his own will and volition. If he had desired to press charges against Jazz, I am certain Jazz would now be in the brig ... not that it would keep him in if he took it in his processors to be loose. Everything these two have been through since Jazz was killed is punishment enough. I do not need to add to their strain by pressing charges that Miles does not wish to press."**

Ironhide grunted again, and turned toward the door, not waiting to be dismissed. Prime, sensing the mech had important business on the weapons range, let him go, even as Miles came running through the open door, having finally been let go by Starjumper once the danger of physical violence had passed. He was almost instantly scooped up by Jazz, the silver mech actually darting towards the door before Ironhide had even made it that far.

**"If there is nothing else, Prime?"** Prowl asked while Jazz soothed their socket, all but oblivious to anything around him.

**"I will speak with you about it later,"** Prime said calmly. **"Your bonded and your socket need you more than I need answers at this moment."**

Prime's optics were no longer locked on his officers, but on Sam who was patiently waiting at the door to do whatever he could to sooth his own mech's spark after what had been an especially trying and tiring conversation. Prime reached out his hand to his first claimed socket since the beginning of the war with an unguarded expression of gratitude and exhaustion.

**"Yes, Prime,"** Prowl inclined his head and turned to wrap his arms around Jazz, shielding Miles between them for a moment before he guided Jazz out of the office and towards their quarters.

"Some days I truly wish someone else could have my job, Sam," they heard him say as the door slid shut.

* * *

Outside at a far more somber bonfire, Jolt sat next to his lover, waiting like most everyone else to get at least the drift of what had happened in Prime's office. They watched as Ironhide exited the command center and stalked off in the direction of the weapons range, his sockets exiting with Chromia who appeared to be trying in her own, fairly ineffectual way, to comfort them.

Shortly after, Jazz and Prowl also excited, making their way quickly toward the officers quarters. Jazz was clearly shielding Miles protectively as he walked, not meeting the eyes or optics of any who were around the fire.

**"I never knew Jazz was responsible for what happened to Hide's socket at the beginning of the war,"** Jolt admitted quietly.

**"I did, but Jazz was an Autobot by the time I met him,"** Killblade wrapped his arms around the smaller warrior. **"No matter what he'd done, that sigil is a pardon by the Prime."**

Someone...Blaster began to play music to attempt to bring the party back to the partiers. Jolt shifted closer into Killblade's arms, resisting the strong urge to turn and straddle his lap, scraping the paint of their plates together.

**"What do you think you are going to want in a socket...I mean, if we ended up sharing one,"** Jolt asked, watching the organics relaxing around the fire curiously.

**"The most important thing will be someone who can deal with the fact that I'm a sparked warrior and I'm never going to calm down,"** he murmured, gently stroking Jolt's side. It was pushing it, but within bounds. **"I never really thought about it. It's not like I'd ever have one as a pre-programmed mech under the old system, and there were never enough during the war for me to have a chance at it."**

**"Your brothers have claimed at least 23 of them, including Ma-le, if records are correct. A low number to be sure, but plenty more than others of us who have been in and out of stasis can. They have pretty specific tastes."** Jolt clearly was inviting Killblade to comment on whether those tastes were also appealing to the mech he desired.

**"They do,"** Killblade hum-warbled uncertainly, uncomfortable with the conversation, or rather with his inability to say much in it. **"I just never thought about it. Never had one. Never expected to."**

**"Hey, don't worry about it. I never really thought about it either,"** Jolt laughed, running a hand along Killblade's upper pede. **"For all that I claimed Shekat, that was simply to keep her alive longer for the cadre. I _never_ would have claimed her for myself. But...Ratchet says I should, and I have no idea what I really want. _Not_ one like Mikaela, as much as I respect that something so small could have _him_ under her control."**

Killblade snickered. **"It is something to see, and I very much agree. It's all well and good when they have some spirit, but that's too much."**

Jolt leaned his head back, nuzzling against the broad chestplates of the warrior holding him.

**"Do you _like_ the type your brothers claimed? That kind seems very well suited to a bladewarrior, and is very submissive,"** Jolt asked gently, trying to get a sense of what would please the mech he hoped would carry their creation.

**"She does seem well-suited to my kind,"** Killblade leaned down and nuzzled the top of Jolt's helm. **"Pretty too. What do you think you'd like?"**

Jolt turned his processors to all of the organics he had met, human or otherwise, while gently running his hands along the outer side of Killblade's upper pedes, trying hard to keep his claws from caressing inside the sensitive seams. **"Honestly, I am fairly fond of most organics I meet, so long as they attempt to contribute their fair share to the work at hand, aren't terrified or obnoxious, and not terribly high maintenance. Humans are confusing to me, but their energy is also more resonant to our kind than others I've met. I think one like Ma-le would be a good match. I must admit that it is rather endearing that she thinks we are gods, even if it bothers Mikaela and Ratchet to no end."**

**"I think so too,"** Killblade chuckled. **"My brothers treat her well, so I don't see what the problem is."**

**"Hi mechs, do you mind if I ask a few questions? I mean it's okay if you don't want to answer and all, I guess it's kinda personal, but I'd really like to know."**

**"Blue,"** Jolt interrupted him with a bemused, half-indulgent expression. **"What do you want to know?"**

**"Why is it some days you nearly break bolts trying to keep your hands off each other but other days you don't worry about it?"** Bluestreak asked.

**"Well, right now we are on a date,"** Jolt explained, chuckling at Bluestreak's confused look at that explanation. **"In Protihex, we had a very long courting period that required public, chaste dating where light kissing and touching were all the contact permitted,"** the medic added.

**"But why bother? I mean, I saw you just the other day outside Hang 10 and you weren't trying to hold back at all,"** Bluestreak frowned. **"Why just some orns?"**

Killblade felt a small smile quirk his lip components. **"Because after as long as we've been casual lovers stopping completely for vorns isn't something we'd manage. So we agreed to honor Jolt's heritage by behaving while on dates now that I'm actually courting him."**

Bluestreak's face broke into a huge smile. **"So you really are courting? That is so wonderful. So many more are starting to pair off or form trines now that we are here. Are you going to bond? Will you have sparklings? How many do you think you want? Are you going to claim a socket? Mine is so adorable and kind and her energy feels so amazing. I don't know how I ever went without having one of my own!"**

**"Yes. We intend to. Most likely. No clue yet. Yes, that is what we were discussing when you came up. Like Prime, you let the hurt of loosing your first influence you for too long."** Killblade answered smoothly.

**"Not even my first. I hadn't claimed her yet when she was killed,"** he said in a much quieter, mournful voice which just as quickly changed back to his normal pace. **"But you are right. I let myself be sad for too long. I'm so happy for you both. Frontliners deserve to be happy, too, no matter what anyone says about them not bonding. I heard Ironhide talking earlier that he didn't think it was right for warriors to bond, but of course, Ironhide was saying a lot of things tonight that he probably shouldn't. He does that a lot, but he is a good mech even though he gets mad at me sometimes. He was really nice to me when I was a mechling so I know he has a good spark. What do you think about people saying that warriors shouldn't bond while a war is on?"**

**"It's very dangerous,"** Jolt answered softly. **"Even if one doesn't follow the other, it will take you out of a battle, a fatal distraction during it. But the need to make sparklings is greater than out need for warriors right now. I wasn't sparked a warrior either, and now I'm a medic. Or getting there at least."**

**"I have a spark. I deserve a life off the battlefield,"** Killblade added.

**"That you do,"** Jolt added, reaching behind him to give his lover an awkward hug since he couldn't trust himself to limit himself to that if he turned around.

**"Aww, that's so sweet. I hope some mech looks at me like that some orn,"** Bluestreak cooed, embarrassing both warriors briefly. **"I mean, it would feel _sooo_ nice. Wouldn't it?"**

**"It is nice,"** Jolt smiled softly. **"The physical pleasure, and even more, the companionship and knowing that someone you love is going to be part of you spark and you will be a part of theirs. Have you ever had a lover, Bluestreak?"** Jolt asked curiously, the talkative Praxian providing a helpful distraction from the way his valve was beginning to leak lubricant through his panel in unsated arousal.

**"A few, well, they weren't _lovers_, more like we just spent the time together. Mutual distraction, you know, when things got bad. No one I felt bad about not being with again,"** he rambled. **"It felt good and all, but we both knew it was just a distraction, something pleasant for a joor or two, you know?"**

**"We know,"** Killblade nodded easily. **"It's how we began."**

**"Is there anyone you're interested in?"** Jolt asked, shifting uncomfortably at how his spike seemed determined to come out of its housing on its own, a fantasy of watching his lover teach a few things to the seemingly innocent mech running through his processors.

::What has you _this_ turned on?:: Killblade pinged him privately.

**"Not really,"** Bluestreak shook his head. **"I mean there are plenty of mechs that would be nice to be with, but no one I think of staying with or anything. No one I cycle up wondering about. I want to sometimes, but I don't."**

::You, watching you spar and not getting to 'face you after, all of this conversation about sockets and bonding and sparklings, and not being able to _do_ anything about it. Then my processors started fantasizing about you teaching Bluestreak a thing or two and it just went from there.:: Jolt answered with a tremor. ::I wonder if watching you with him would technically break Protihex dating traditions?:: he asked deviously.

::I can't imagine it does, as long as _we_ don't touch,:: Killblade rumbled hotly.

**"So...Bluestreak. By my city's traditions, I can't 'face my mech on a date, and he can't 'face me. But there is nothing that says he can't 'face you. Would you like to feel how frontliners do it?"** Jolt asked suggestively, knowing the gray mech needed to be 'faced as much as he had needed a socket.

A staticky squeak came from Bluestreak, his optics spiraling open as he looked at Killblade. **"You really want to? I mean, I know it would just be for fun and all, but why me? Surely there are mechs that know what they're doing better than me, I've only faced a few times, usually just let the other mech do what he wanted..."**

**"I find the idea very appealing,"** Killblade rumbled and reached out, pulling Bluestreak towards him with a loose enough grip that the smaller mech could break away if he wanted to.

**"Killblade is a very good teacher, Blue. You could learn a thing or two from him, and I love to watch him give instruction,"** Jolt purred, **"And after he takes your valve, he can tell you how to take mine,"** he added, a plan developing in his lust-filled processors.

**"Umm, let me check with my socket, she might want to ... oh ... she wants me to have fun with you and then show her what I learned and said it was about damn time I faced a mech or two on this fantasy island we call a base. I'm not sure what she meant by that..."** Bluestreak stopped abruptly as he was pulled in to straddle Killblade's lap.

Jolt's optics glowed nearly indigo as he watched his lover bring his face to Bluestreak's and slide his glossa in for claiming kiss, one hand firmly around the sniper's waist while the other stroked a sensor wing uncertainly. His optics traced every fine tremble of Bluestreak's frame, his audios tuned everything out but the sniper's whimpers as Killblade pulled him close to scrape their interface panels together. Jolt felt his fans kick in and leaned back, putting his full weight on arms stretched behind him to keep himself from touching either mech, or himself.

Killblade growled seductively and adjusted their positions so he knelt straddling Bluestreak's lap, hands holding the sniper's face as he leaned in for a crushing kiss, glossa sliding along the sniper's own before kissing his way down his neck cables and chestplates. Jolt felt a thrill rush through his spark each time Killblade's optics slid his way to see if he was enjoying the show.

Both warriors were absently aware that they were drawing attention from both humans and mechs. They were likely the first public facing of the night, and definitely the first good distraction from the mess that had gone down with Ironhide earlier.

Bluestreak keened, his vents stuttering as he arched and pressed into Killblade's touch. **"Oh please more. More. Feels so good please don't stop. Never want you to stop. Want you to spike me, please, soon. Feels so good. Spark if you want it. Just don't stop."**

**"Can't let the poor mech beg,"** Jolt tried to comment nonchalantly, but the static in his tone gave away just how revved up he really was.

::What do I do about his sensor wings?:: Killblade asked, not having experience with the frame type before.

::Do him from the bottom, or he can lean against me so I can caress his wings while you take him,:: Jolt suggested, vents hitching at the image of being so close to his lover as he spiked another, transmitting their desire for one another through a mech in between.

::I take him on his knees, while he sucks you off?:: Killblade was trembling nearly as much as Bluestreak as he brought his mouth up to silence the smaller mech while they sorted out just what they would do. ::We can both play with his wings, you can show me the best places.::

::Perfect,:: Jolt shuddered, his panel retracing and pressurized spike leaping out as they both began to push and prod the trembling mech into position.

**"Suck me off while he takes you, Bluestreak?"** Jolt invited with a smile for the trembling, panting mech.

**"Primus yes!"** Bluestreak keened static and reached out to pull Jolt closer. **"I always forget how good it feels,"** he added as he nuzzled the hard spike before him, then took it all the way to his intake pipe in a single motion.

**"Oh Primus, Blue,"** Jolt moaned, his hands reaching out to run along the edges of the gray mech's sensor wings in desperate caresses. ::You are so eager and good at this. Why hasn't anyone snatched you up yet?:: he switched to comms as his vocalizer offlined. He looked up from the delectable sight of the Praxian swallowing his spike to see his lover's optics blazing, nearly crazed with desire, his field encompassing what he hands could not.

::Please, please spike me, Killblade,:: Bluestreak used a open, short range comm, shameless in his desire. ::You feel so _good_ Jolt. Oh _yes_ touch me there. You've had a Praxian, you must have to touch like that.::

::Because you are doing such a fine job on my lover's spike, and you asked so nicely,:: Killblade teased, and pulled Bluestreak's aft a bit higher so the tip of his spike rested against the outer ring of the sniper's valve. He caught Jolt's optics in his own, as if to transmit every touch to his lover's own frame. One hand scratched at the sand, holding up his weight, while the other played with the mech's twitching wings, carefully avoiding Jolt's hands.

::Hardline with him? It isn't technically cheating, you know.:: Killblade suggested, his cable snaking out to ask for entrance to the port just below Bluestreak's right sensor wing. The port sprung open and he connected, quickly followed by Jolt's under the left one.

~Oh _Primus_ this feels good,~ Killblade moaned to them both. He leaned forward to plant both hands on the ground, his mouth turned to pleasuring the intricate extensions on Bluestreak's back as his hips thrust, finding their own rhythm to reap the most pleasure for all three of them. ~Such a mouth, such a tight valve. Spike is sure to match.~

::Yes Primus please oh frag harder so good slag I'm gonna overload too fast!:: Bluestreak called out on the open comm, eliciting a few chuckles and some cheers from those gathered around the fire watching the show.

Jolt could only repeatedly keen, his hands holding on desperately to the gray mech's winglets as he began thrusting shamelessly into the sniper's mouth, hitting the back of his intake and crying out as the smooth glossa swirled along the underside of his spike with each thrust.

With a grunt Killblade shifted his weight to brace on one hand, using the other to wrap around Bluestreak's fully pressurized spike and stroke it in a counter rhythm to his thrusts. He lavishing Bluestreak's sensor wings with his glossa and nipped at the larger sensory nodes as all three rushed towards the overload they all wanted so badly.

Three more thrusts in mouth, hand, and valve and Bluestreak went gleefully over the edge, taking the warrior and medic with him in ear and audio-numbing keens and a roar. Jolt slumped forward over Bluestreak's helm, his vents gasping for cooling air. The energy of the triple overload ricocheting between them, driving them all to a second peak before it finally smoothed out and allowed them to relax.

::Stay the night with us?:: Jolt asked hopefully.

::Really?:: Bluestreak asked, quietly hopeful even as he began to daintily clean off Jolt's spike with his glossa. ::You really want me to? I'd love to but I don't want to be in the way or for you to feel like you have to because I'd understand if you didn't want me to. I'm so glad I decided to talk to both of you tonight!::

::We _want_ you to. You were amazing,:: Killblade assured him. ::And when we get back to my berth, we won't be on a date any longer and it will be even better.::

::Oh yes, so very much better,:: Jolt rumbled hotly, thought-images of all the ways three mechs could pleasure each other, scenes of exposed sparks and blinding ecstasy surging across the hardline connection. ::Maybe we'll even keep you, if your socket lets us.::

Killblade chuckled affectionately at his blissed-out lover's surge of desire even as Bluestreak stuttered at the idea, for once at a loss for words, hot desire radiating out of him at all of the images and suggestions Jolt had made.

::Watch out, or he might just collect you, Bluestreak,:: Killblade teased, finally pulling his spike out of the sniper's valve and unsubspacing several cleaning cloths so they could wipe off the worst of the mess off.

"You know," a familiar female organic voice suddenly said from somewhere near Jolt's pede, "I'm not sure if this is what they meant in Protihex about remaining chaste with your sweetheart on dates."

"We didn't actually touch or pleasure each other," Jolt tried to sound serious and solemn, though it was completely countered by the cheshire grin on his faceplates and the still fully pressurized spike between his upper pedes.

Mikaela snorted and patted him on the leg. "I think it was a very creative way to get around the restrictions. Did you enjoy yourself, Bluestreak? I have a feeling they might take you along on all of their dates."

They gray mech made a sound suspiciously like 'eep' as the lovers grinned at each other over him, then helped him to his pedes.

"Humans do come up with some great ideas," Jolt grinned.


	64. SSU 14, EB 4:  Business in Burma

**Writers:** femme4jack, gatekat LJ  
**Fandom:** Transformers Bayverse  
**Pairing:** Shimmerfire/Sunstreaker/Sideswipe/Hgwa Ma-le, Killblade/Jolt, Silver Shadow/Soe Than  
**Rating:** NC-17 for femme/male, mech/mech  
**Codes:** Het, Slash, Xeno (Transformer/human), Sparksex, Twincest, Violence, Rape, Sticky, general darkfic warning.  
**Summary:** Ma-le gets a call from her father asking her to petition her husbands to help the village out after the army raids it.  
**Notes:** Written in the Dathanna de Gray fanverse (community .livejournal .com/ tf_socket_fics)  
**"text"** translated Cybertronian.  
"text" organic languages  
~text~ bond or cable talk  
::text:: comm chatter

**Lisu/Burmese lexicon:**  
Wu-sa: The god of creation for the Lisu  
Swamx: gods with vampire-like qualities, what the Lisu of Ma-le's village believe the Cybertronians are  
Arun Shwe: literally "golden sun" in Burmese, Sunstreaker's Lisu god name  
Mvkang: trickster god, Sideswipe's Lisu god name  
Xo-Po: deeply feared death spirit, Jazz's Lisu god name

**Author's Note from Femme**: I want to give our readers a heads up that this is the most violent chapter we've written to date, and that the violence is directed at humans. We meant this chapter to be disturbing. While we love our Autobots, we never want readers to forget just how dangerous and violent the Cybertronians can be, especially mechs like Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, and their fellow bladewarrior Killblade (OC) who in our 'Verse were built, programmed and sparked specifically to be brutal warriors, to revel in violence, and be fiercely protective of what they consider to be their own (their faction, their lovers, their organics, etc.). We also wanted to show the darker side of SpecOps. SpecOps agents, whether they are human or Cybertronian, do the behind the scenes messy, questionable activities that others would rather not dirty their hands with or even know about. Never forget that Jazz, and fun loving as he is (whether in our AU or other G1 and Bayverse characterizations), is a saboteur, assassin, and a mech who deals death under the cover of darkness, and his team are the same - trained by him, and in some cases descended from him. Please be warned. None of our characters are purely good. They are what they were programmed and sparked to be, and what they have made of themselves since. They are capable of both great good and evil, and hurting those they care for, especially those who are helpless to protect themselves, engenders fierce wrath.

**Update: **We are having a contest for our readers. For more information, please see (take out the spaces after you paste in the url) http : / / livejournal . com / tf_socket_fics / 51694. html

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Sunny Side Up 14/Electric Blades 4: Business in Burma

* * *

Ma-le was taking a sip of tea as she and Sarah watched Annabelle 'perform her warrior moves,' that involved a great deal of jumping, twisting, and shooting 'Cons with an imaginary bow.

"Kuhn Chromia must be pleased with her," Ma-le said with a smile at the little girl.

"Ironhide even more," Sarah commented. "They both have been entertaining her at the weapons range, and she begs to watch them spar."

Ma-le froze suddenly as if she were listening to something.

"My father has called," she said, sounding confused even as Blaster explained the incoming call to her. "They are routing the call through my socket. May I go to the other room to speak with him?"

"Of course, Ma-le," Sarah gave the girl a concerned look as she left the mech-sized room to enter the Lennox's apartment. Her concern shortly turned to dread as she heard two Lamborghinis racing toward the home the Lennox family shared with Ironhide at full speed. With the sounds of hurried transformations, the twins burst in.

"Why is she upset?" Sunstreaker demanded even as Sideswipe continued to the apartment door.

~Ma-le? What is wrong, pretty?~ the silver twin reached out to her across their socket bond. ~Who upset you?~ he asked with implicit eagerness to exact painful retribution on whomever it was.

Killblade, the twin's brother from their original cadre, appeared at the main door, also looking disturbed but too polite to simply enter Ironhide's domain. Sarah waved him in, as much to protect her from the twins' agitation as any other reason.

The Lisu girl came out of the apartment sobbing, the only thing she could express over the bond was ~my father ... army ... brother dead sisters taken.~ She continue trying to speak with her father on his satellite phone as Sideswipe scooped her up and cradled her against his softly revving engine, trying to sooth her the way he would one of his own kind with warmth and specific vibration frequencies.

The twins were immediately connected, listening in to the conversation and aware that Jazz, Blaster, Prime, Prowl and Whiplash were all listening as well, though it was unlikely either human realized it yet.

::Yes father ... yes, I will ask him. What about mama?:: The socket curled into the comfort Mvkang, her silver husband, offered even as she felt Arun Shwe close in on the other side, surrounding her protectively.

::She is alive,:: her father responded wearily. ::Her injuries will heal.::

::Who did this?:: Sunstreaker growled across the connection.

::Burmese Army,:: Jazz spoke up on the open comm line. ::Yes, you'll both be in the response team.::

::I wish to go as well, sir,:: Killblade spoke as he tapped into the connection. ::This is an attack on bond-kin.::

::Agreed,:: Prime's deep rumble still everyone. ::You will wait until Prowl and Jazz have a plan and you will follow it. Is that understood?::

::Yes, sir,:: Killblade responded immediately.

::As long as it involves getting the job done,:: Sunstreaker responded for both Twins. ::They've kidnapped Ma-le's sister, our future socket.::

::You'll really help?:: Ma-le asked, hardly able to get out her words.

::Yes,:: Prime rumbled. ::At a minimum we will return the children to your village and make certain this does not happen again.::

~_We_ are going to do much more than that,~ Sideswipe promised.

::We're ready to rock and roll,:: Sunstreaker spoke up.

::Working on it, guys,:: Jazz spoke up. ::Should have something ready when you get to Skyfire.::

::You may take Ma-le if she wishes to go home while you are on assignment in Burma,:: Prowl's even tone added.

::Thank you,::Ma-le sobbed, ::I want to help mama and my father.::

Sideswipe nodded with a brush of approval across the bond and left Ironhide's quarters, skating towards the main runway with his twin and brother. Skyfire was coming in for final approach, but it was Jolt's arrival on screeching wheels that they actually looked at.

**"I'm along too,"** the trainee field medic said by way of a greeting to the Twins, though the caress against his lover's blade joints was anything but professional.

**"It's good to be on a mission together again, even if against a bunch of puny organics,"** Killblade gave a predatory grin, his systems already primed to take out anyone who had harmed the kin of his brothers' socket.

~Does my father understand who is coming?~ Ma-le asked as they borded Skyfire, looking bewildered and shocked at how quickly things had moved.

~I'm sure Jazz told him,~ Sideswipe responded as he settled down next to his brother with Ma-le still snuggled against his chest. Across from them Killblade and the much smaller Jolt were similarly snuggled close. ~Though it'll probably still be a shock.~

Ma-le gazed blankly, numb now that she had quit sobbing. Her father had said that army came because somehow they had been tipped about the extra cash flowing into the village. A single thought kept repeating itself in her mind - that she thought she had been protecting and helping them, and now the very worst had come to pass.

~But because of this, Prime's letting us free your people, and we'll protect them directly now,~ Sunstreaker countered her dark thoughts. ~We'll retrieve those taken and no one will harm you kin again.~

~I know, Arun Shwe. I know you'll make it right. I just never wanted my sisters to experience rape at the hands of the army, and now they most certainly have. They will force the boys to machete to death any girl who fights it, and my brother is dead.~

~Don't focus on the loss,~ Sunstreaker focused on their bond as much as he could, trying to give her at least a sense of how he functioned in a world where that was a relatively minor evil.

~Focus on evening the score,~ Sideswipe added, the emotions coming from him more of pain that he couldn't stop this, frustration at his leadership for not moving faster and demanding such things happen before action was taken. ~The loss will eat your spark if you let it.~

She nodded her acceptance of their instructions, and tried to do as they told her, to focus on what was about to happen to those who did this ... which suddenly tripped her up.

~There will be many in the army my age or younger. None of them asked to be there, but they will fight you because they will have been taught they must or they will be killed,~ she said sadly, knowing that some of those very same youth could be the ones who would rape her sisters, under orders.

~If they aren't close kin, you can't worry about them,~ Sideswipe insisted. ~Most soldiers aren't evil. It doesn't matter. Good people die in war just like bad ones. It's what happens. You can't sympathize with the enemy.~

~If you do, it will drive you to death,~ Sunstreaker added with his own kind of concern. ~If they are of your village, if they are young and surrender, we won't hurt them. Otherwise, they are enemy and no matter why they fight, they must die.~

~Many will surrender as soon as they see you,~ she said with conviction, curling into her silver warrior for comfort, murmuring prayers to Wu-Sa the creator for protection for her sisters, prayers that would soon be answered by the gods she had married.

~Then many will live to return to their homes,~ Sideswipe pressed closer to Sunstreaker so their socket could feel both their warmth.

~There is no honor in slaughtering prisoners,~ Sunstreaker added, reaching out to caress her gently and without sexual intent.

::You think you can keep your brothers from going off the deep end with the organics?:: Jolt asked from where he was observing the twins and their socket while wrapped in Killblade's arms.

::To a point,:: Killblade replied, nuzzling his lover. ::Once they aren't comforting her, the rage will kick in again. Neither one is exactly sane.::

::Prowl likely knew what he was doing sending her along, then. We can have her use her bond to stop them if things get too out of control,:: Jolt noted, twisting around to kiss his lover deeply, every system keyed up for the coming battle and wanting an outlet.

::Agreed, these are her kin being killed,:: he kissed back eagerly and shifted to press Jolt to the floor of the shuttle. ::Sideswipe is a doting caretaker, as are you,:: he added with a rumble and slid one hand up to stroke Jolt's winglets.

Just as Jolt was ready to retract his interface panel, Jazz pinged the four mechs on a secure, long range comm.

::No rest for warriors,:: Jolt complained with a smirk before responding to the comm. ::Jolt here, what are our orders, boss?::

::First and most, keep the Twins from starting an interplanetary incident,:: Jazz said firmly just to Jolt and Killblade with a touch of amusement before speaking to all four. ::Keep in mind that the government has nukes and will certainly use them against someone if they think they can. We have legitimate grounds to be there and retrieve the villagers, but nothing more. What _I_ want you to do is keep the army and government occupied without giving them heavy weapons targets while my team goes in to take over the government and arrange for a formal invitation to set up a base.::

::What are the rules of engagement, sir?:: Killblade asked, sounding cool and professional.

::The Army are free targets, though try not to kill any who surrender, unless there is good reason. Most are sub-adult conscripts. Officers are free targets unless they are convincing in their surrender of intel. First priority is recovering Ma-le's kin. Then, just make a major nuisance of yourselves in any way that doesn't draw unwanted attention from the outside. I'll contact you when we're ready to take over.::

::Understood, sir,:: the two members of Chromia's cadre responded.

::Do we need to stay out of urban areas where there are likely to be camera phones, or will communications in and out be cut by the time we get there?:: Sideswipe asked, sounding every bit like the trickster Ma-le believed him to be. ::And how much are the civilians allowed to see?::

::Comm will be completely down by the time you land,:: Jazz chuckled. ::Given the civilians are soon to be under our rule, try not to scare them and don't show more than you have to, but it's not the level of covert we need in the US or Europe.::

::Got it.:: Sideswipe couldn't keep the smile of anticipation off of his face. There was little doubt that the terror twins were excited to finally be able to show off their skills without worrying about being discrete.

**"Just leave some for us,"** Killblade teased. **"You aren't the only ones looking forward to showing off."**

::Or getting thoroughly fragged by a lover when you do,:: Jolt rumbled across the private comm and stroked up Killblade's back to fondle his wires mercilessly. ::Or before we land?:: He added and pulled Killblade's head down for a kiss as he rocked his hips against the heavier armor above him. ::Kill a little time inside me.::

::Have fun, all four of you,:: Jazz laughed in good humor. ::Starjumper's leading the takeover mission. Back her up if she calls on you, but otherwise you're on your own.::

**"Will you all please keep in mind that you are riding _inside_ of me and that I will make your ride home most unpleasant if you leave a mess?"** Skyfire gave a long suffering grumble.

**"Do you have any idea how kinky that could be?"** Killblade all but purred. **"We'd be happy to include you in the fun and wash you when we land."**

**"No thank you,"** the shuttle shivered a bit. **"Distract me that much and we'll crash."**

**"That would suck,"** Jolt agreed as he snuggled against Killblade more. **"We'll just have to clean up before we land."**

**"Small price to pay,"** the blue bladewarrior rumbled into a hot, hard kiss to pass the time.

* * *

Hgwa Akha changed the bandages on his wife's wounds for a third time in the same number of hours where she lay on the ground near the remains of their home. She was losing far more blood than he was happy with, and she was one of the lucky ones. The army's raid on their village had been nothing short of a massacre, a message to send a point that the rest of the Hill Tribes would not forget. The only teens and older children who had not been taken were those who had died resisting, managed to hide, or weren't in the village at the time. The majority of the adults had been out of the village hunting or working the fields, leaving only the old and young.

The army had moved through fast. The adults who had made it back in time, including his wife and their now murdered son would have been better off if they had not returned. The rest of the adults saw the smoke and returned to find the aftermath. Fields and homes burnt, dead and maimed adults and young children scattered throughout the remains of the village. Every child old enough to be considered of value to the army had been taken, several had already been found dead by machete or AK47 on the path the army had taken, killed either for resisting or as a warning to the other children.

Kuhn Jazz had promised him help was on the way, but he simply did not see how anyone could get there in time for his daughters or the other children. His musings were interrupted as a rumble of endless thunder vibrated the air, but it did not have the feel of a coming storm.

"Kuhn Akha!" one of the young children, his brother's daughter's youngest who had managed to remain hidden, called out for him, excited and afraid. "The special phone."

Akha quickly took the phone from him, while looking up to the skies for the source of the deafening noise. "Hello!" he shouted on the phone over the noise.

"This is Skyfire," a warm, deep voice responded in the Lisu dialect. "Touchdown on the north eastern edge of your village in two minutes. Out."

Akha looked up and saw a gigantic white and blood red ship of some sort descending slowly toward the ground. "Oh, Wu-Sa, who have you sent us?" he murmured, gathering frightened villagers to himself as they watched the shuttle come to rest, giving assurances that the people on the ship were there to help them.

When the ship's side opened, they could see several military men inside, and the gleam of four unusual vehicles, but it was Ma-le who stepped out first with a low-profile silver vehicle that moved without wheels right beside her. Behind her a matching golden one came. A very similar vehicle in dark metallic blue exited with an electric blue one half its size next to it.

Akha ran toward his daughter, placed his hands on her shoulders in the most fiercely affectionate greeting a father could give to his married daughter.

"Ma-le, you have come so quickly. Wu-Sa has not abandoned us after all."

"Father," she said, trying to keep her emotions under control at the sight of the devastated village. "I would like to introduce to you the five swamx who have come to help. Their human servants are medics and soldiers who will stay in the village to help our wounded and put up shelters. The swamx are some of their best warriors and will go hunting and bring back those who have been taken. Two of them, Arun Shwe and Mvkang are my husbands. The other humans here refer to them as Sunstreaker and Sideswipe. Killblade is brother to my husbands, and Jolt is Killblade's mate. You have already spoken with Skyfire, who brought us here, of course."

Ma-le gently guided her father away from the mechs so they could transform.

The Twins did first, quickly and smoothly transforming to their Cybertronian mech forms and taking in the devastation from twenty-five feet up.

Though their transformation had been met by a few screams and some quiet sobbing in several parts of the village, there was surprisingly little panic. The shaman's revelations about the identities of those whom Ma-le had gone to serve as wife had spread through the village. They hadn't known what to expect, but gigantic gleaming creatures were no stranger than anything else that had been imagined.

Sideswipe knelt, as he had seen Prime do many times, and extended his clawed hand to the father of his socket. "You are important to our wife, kin-by-marriage," he did his best to translate into their language. "We could not be here to stop this, but those responsible will pay dearly. We will bring your daughters and surviving kin back to you."

Akwa was trembling as he put his tiny, fragile hand on the gigantic metal one that could sure kill him with a simple squeeze or flick of a finger. "Thank you, Mvkang. We are in your debt," he said shakily. "Their trail is very clear. Would you like for me to show you the way that they went?"

"Yes," Sunstreaker answered as Killblade and Jolt transformed.

Jolt briefly stepped forward before anyone could move. "Hgwa Akwa, if someone can show our healers who needs tending the most, we can prevent any more losses," he motioned towards the soldiers who looked like they were trying very hard not to be threatening despite their uniforms, equipment and obvious weapons.

"Yes, of course," Akha said, as though shaking himself out of a stupor as he stared at the blue giants. "Our shaman will show them," he motioned for a small Lisu man in bright colored traditional garments forward. Ma-le guided him toward the armed soldiers and they began conferring.

Jolt paid careful attention, then turned his attention to Killblade. **"I'll be needed here. Go, I'll catch up when everyone is stable."**

"Show us now," Sunstreaker commanded, transforming with his brothers.

It was Killblade that opened his passenger side door for the human elder. "Jolt will stay for a time. He believes some of your injured will need his care."

Ma-le's father carefully entered, taking care to avoid touching anything unnecessarily, keenly aware that he was in the body of a shape-shifting god. "They went northeast, through the jungle. They have a base 60 kilometers in that direction, near the capital of the province, Myintgynar."

Powerful sensor suites swept the region. Behind them Skyfire lifted off and linked his sensor suite to theirs, giving them data from altitude. Information echoed between the four mechs, linking the brothers for a battle, driving their natural aggression and eagerness for violence higher with each cycle.

"Were any taken that Ma-le is not familiar with?" Killblade asked, his voice betraying his eagerness.

"No, she would know all of the children who were taken," Akha answered with confidence, sensing the energy and excitement of the swamx.

"Good," Killblade said. "She showed us what they look like so we'd know everyone she knew."

"Akha, do you wish to remain with us?" Killblade asked. "We have the trail, but your kin who were ordered to fight might listen to you so we don't have to hurt them."

"I will go with you," he said, finding the bravery of his own warrior heritage. "Even if they don't fight, they might panic and do something foolish."

::They have stopped, 13.67km to the NE,:: Skyfire comm-ed. ::Their trail will be simple to follow.::

::We have it,:: Sunstreaker responded. ::What's the base look like from up there?::

::They are not at their base. Only an encampment in the forest. Their commander appears to have ordered all of the girls to undress,:: Skyfire noted with a sound of disgust.

::You'd better find your ball bearings if anyone touches them,:: Sunstreaker snarled with the kind of demand that promised intense pain if the shuttle failed to fire to protect the girls.

::ETA four kliks,:: Sideswipe added even as he revved his engine and sped up, risking hitting trees in an effort to reach the camp before another generation was abused as his socket had been.

::Already on it, firing at their perimeter to distract. The innocents are so mixed in with the regulars that I can't risk a direct shot,:: Skyfire responded calmly even as sound of energy weapons and machine-guns reached them.

The warriors and elder slipped into grim silence as they raced towards the battle, the sounds urging them forward at ever faster speeds. For Akha the forest became a blur of green. Only the straps across his body held him in place for the extreme sideways forces. He was half-aware that Killblade slowed down before his brothers when the silver and golden forms shot in front of them, but the forces of the deceleration were intense enough it took all his focus to remain conscious.

"Stay with us, Akha," Killblade's voice reached him as the pressure lightened a bit.

The g-forces finally relented enough for Akha to be able to speak. "I'm ... I'm alright. Just tell me what to do," he whispered nervously as he got his first view of a clearing that had erupted into utter chaotic hell. Humans, both soldiers and children, and some who were both were either frozen in fear or running away, screaming from the wrath of the silver and golden gods that had descended upon them. Though it looked random, Akha could see that every person who was sliced through by their enormous blades or crushed like an insect by hands or feet was an adult soldier and the significant majority were officers.

"I'm going to transform and put you on my shoulder. Anything you say will be amplified to be heard over the battle," Killblade said before he began a slower and more careful transformation than usual. It took time to bring an arm forward, pluck the human from his interior and move him at a safe speed to his shoulder as the Cybertronian stood.

Akha nearly screamed as he was suddenly over 20 feet off of the ground, seeing from the perspective of the blue swamx the chaos around him. He felt himself frozen in shock and terror as he saw bullets ricochet off of Arun Shwe's golden armor only to hit one of the children in the head. No sooner had it happened than an energy bolt of some kind hit the soldier and left nothing behind.

The elder shook himself out of his stupor and began to shout in Lisu.

"Children of Tiger Village, this is your elder, Hgwa Akha. Do not be afraid. You will not be harmed. These are the swamx whom my eldest daughter married to create an alliance between our tribe and theirs. They will protect you from the soldiers. Come to me, and hide behind the blue god. Soldiers, lay down your weapons, kneel and place your hands on your heads. If you truly surrender, you will not be harmed."

At his words, many of the girls and younger boys reacted as they had been taught all their lives and obeyed without thinking. They rushed towards Killblade, who moved forward a few steps and crotched down, making himself a shield for those behind him. It left the Twins to do the bulk of damage while he picked off officers and those aiming at the youngsters.

Akha continued to repeat his instructions in the languages of the neighboring tribes as well as Thai and Burmese. He soon found himself getting through to many more of the soldiers, and before long, most of those who remained alive were kneeling without weapons in a terrified surrender, while the twins easily picked off the final officers and soldiers who were fleeing into the forest.

"Good work," Killblade said to Akha with a rumble of approval. He reached up and gently deposited the older human on the ground before standing. "All right, conscripts group yourselves by village you were taken from. Everyone else, there," he pointed to the spot between the Twins. Like Akha, he repeated the instructions in several local languages, major and minor, until the humans had largely complied.

Akha immediately set himself to calming the children of his and several other villages, most especially the 11 and 14 year old sisters who threw themselves on him, weeping.

They were bruised and battered, and he tried not to look at the dried blood between his younger one's thighs along with several of the other girls, likely raped in the village as a warning to the others.

He looked up and saw three western military men he did not recall seeing earlier helping to settle the other groups while the warrior gods appeared to be interrogating those who had not been conscripted. He flinched when he saw the golden god, his daughter's husband, roar and then crush one that he had been speaking with in hands, blood spraying his nearly glowing armor and the humans in front of him. His glowing eyes white with what appeared to be rage.

Killblade left the interrogation briefly and picked up several sets of clothing before rolling to Akha, only to speak to the girls as he knelt. "Here," he offered their clothing on the tip of one huge claw. "Get dressed. Be strong and help the other girls dress." He shifted his gaze to Akha. "Skyfire will land nearby. We will go to your village first, then to the other villages to take the other youths home, if they have one left. We'll need your assistance in working out where some villages are."

He paused when Sideswipe lifted another adult soldier up and began to toss him, a deep, rage-filled growl coming from his frame and his optics as white as his brother's, who was trying to grab the human from him. "Those two are ones who ... hurt ... your youngest."

Akha and his daughters watched in fascinated horror as the silver god threw the man in the air and deftly sliced him in half with his blade.

"Those men can never hurt you again, Hsama Tsin," Akha said quietly to his younger daughter. "Now get dressed like the swamx told you, and help the other girls. You are both strong like Ma-le."

When he saw that his daughters had complied and started to help the others, he turned back toward Killblade. "I will help in whatever way I am able. We are deeply in your debt, not only for my own daughters, but for all of the surviving children who were taken."

The dark blue mech paused, then smiled a little. "It's nice to have something other than counting dead friends at the end of a battle." He suddenly turned his head. **"Jazz'll want that one alive!"**

**"But..."** Sideswipe objected, another adult officer in his hand. **"Right, right. Intel."** he grumbled and put the bruised and shaken man down.

"You have any doubt he's going to wish you'd killed him once Xo-Po is done with him?" Killblade smirked, switching to Burmese to make his point clear to the human soldiers, using the name of a much-feared god of death that Ma-le's village shaman had given Jazz. Before their reactions could be heard, they were drowned out by the deafening roar of Skyfire's engines, frightening the wildlife for miles around.

Aside from the three westerners with piercing blue eyes, Akha was the only human who did not react in terror as the shuttle hovered briefly and then set down. All four of them went to great lengths to keep the small groups of children and teens from panicking.

As the Lisu elder spoke with the eldest in each group that cautiously boarded, he was able to ascertain the villages and tribe that they had come from.

The last group to be brought onto the shuttle were the remaining soldiers. Many were in a terrified shock, while some were openly weeping, begging the giant gods for mercy after seeing the brutality shown to others who had surrendered. All were well bound with some sort of metal cable.

"You said if we surrendered we would not be harmed!" One of the younger men, likely an older teen pointed accusingly at Akha.

"The two who were killed raped their wife's younger sister," he explained calmly.

"The one we _didn't_ kill raped two other girls and killed her kin," Killblade added.

If anything, it made the soldiers' terror spike even higher. There was not a single one of them who had not taken a girl under orders or of his own will not one but many times in previous raids, and depending on their rank, regularly with the girls who traveled with them. Akha could see the loss of all hope in their eyes.

Sunstreaker considered the lot, then surprised his comrades by speaking as Skyfire lifted off, the sound of his engines heavily dampened. "What do you fear more, a long time in prison, or death the way we deal it?"

They were further surprised that it was Akha who spoke up next. "Half of these soldiers are little more than boys, conscripts who were either taken by force or misled into joining, Arun Shwe. They initially raped, maimed and killed because to disobey meant instant death for themselves or someone they loved. Their childhood was driven out of them. This nation will never be whole if we demand retribution for every crime." The sun-wrinkled elder placed his hand on one of the younger soldier's arms. "This boy could easily be my own son, the one whose myi is now gone forever. When Ma-le was a girl, she saved her brother from being taken by making herself a distraction for the soldiers while he and his sisters hid. If he had been taken, he could be here right now, waiting for judgement."

The Twins shared a glance that went much deeper, but it was Skyfire who spoke, startling everyone.

"Their punishments are for Optimus Prime to determine, not those here." The shuttle spoke softly, his voice gentle. "He will take such things into account. The honestly remorseful will not be the first he has given absolution to."

Akha nodded, and squeezed the shoulder of the young man who was openly weeping at having suddenly escaped for the moment what had seemed certain death.

Ma-le's father respectfully approached the two gods his daughter had married, and gave a most formal, deep bow and wai. "Thank you for saving my daughters and the children of our village. I am in your debt for the remainder of my days. I hope your wife, my eldest, has pleased you."

It seemed to pull both of them out of the silent argument they were in with each other to focus on the human.

"She has very much," Sideswipe said with conviction. "She is a very good wife."

"Yes, she is," Sunstreaker said, a bit more guarded than his brother but speaking honestly.

"We're looking forward to when her sister can join her. She has missed family and having a common understanding," Sideswipe added with a bit of regret, his optics sliding to Suu-kyi, Akha's second daughter. "Though with what's happening now, we might be stationed in Burma soon. Visiting would be a much simpler thing."

"Her mother and I will be overjoyed if that is the case, and my second daughter is anxious to join you as well, whenever the elders of your tribe allow it. I would offer you our youngest as well, when she is of age, or to you, Kuhn Killblade, in thanks," Akha nodded to the blue bladewarrior who was watching the scene with interest. "It would comfort her mother to know that she is safe."

Killblade only just managed to avoid falling on his aft in shock, which caused his brothers to snicker.

"Urr, maybe?" Killblade stammered. "It's Jolt's choice more than mine."

"If he doesn't want her, I think we would," Sideswipe grinned mischievously. "Or for Shimmerfire."

"She will need a hard working, nice wife," Sunstreaker agreed with a thoughtful hum.

"Shimmerfire is another of us, a flyer," Killblade added. "She's carrying by my brothers," he said with obvious pride that all three shared.

As if on cue, Jolt comm-ed. ::How did things go? Many injuries on the way?::

::As well as a massacre can go, but those who survive and live to tell their superiors about it will have quite a story to tell. No injuries on us. Any we engaged were dead before they knew we had engaged them. Some wounds among the children, particularly the young girls who were raped. Speaking of which, Ma-le's father...um...offered me his youngest as a socket when she is of age in thanks.:: Killblade stuttered the last part of his response, still shocked at the offer.

::Urr, does he need an answer this moment?:: Jolt nearly squeaked in his own shock. ::She has more than a metacycle before anyone can touch her. Legally, anyway. Jazz can translate. Might not be what it sounds like.::

::Good thinking, though I'm not certain how else to take the offer to give me his daughter when she is of age in thanks, though I'm quite certain his major motivation is to have all of his daughters somewhere safe.:: Killblade responded with quiet humor.

::We would keep her safe,:: Jolt replied with affection and a bit of relief. ::Still not how I imagined we'd come by a socket. On another topic, I know it's going to be ugly to sort out, but I need to know who was raped and see them first, whether they want to admit it or not.::

::Got it,:: Killblade focused back on the girls, initiating a scan that sockets and other organics accustomed to them would notice but those in the shuttle did not. ::You want just the ones from Ma-le's village, or all of them? Some of these girls have been forced to march with the army for some time,:: Killblade noted.

::All, from those who were abused first most recently, working back to those for whom a memory wipe would not work.:: Jolt sighed, ::I doubt I can help many that way, but even if just a few can be spared. We're going to examine all of them before they go home, at least for serious issues.::

::Well, you'll be seeing Ma-le's youngest sister first. I'll have a list ready for you when we land,:: Killblade unconsciously puffed his armor in pride at doing something helpful for his future bondmate.

::Thanks lover,:: Jolt expressed his affection and approval intentionally, knowing full well it helped solidify his claim.

Sideswipe giggled, making nearly every human look at him, though Sunstreaker just cycled his optics in exasperation. "Aw, it's so _cute_ when you're trying to impress him."

Killblade laughed at both of his brothers, and then set to work determining who from Ma-le's village would see his lover first, having to calm his own rage that he wanted to direct against the remaining soldiers several times, especially when the pattern became clear that it was the youngest of the girls present who had been initially raped. As to the rest of those present, who had been with the army longer, the physical evidence was clear. Every girl and several of the boys would be seen. The scans took but a klik, though they had already landed at the village by the time he finished.

As Skyfire's side opened to the remains of Tiger Village, Jolt entered with Ma-le, who immediately ran to her sisters, pulling them close and guiding them with a bit of impatience at their fear to walk with her to her husbands.

"They will not hurt you," she promised them, watching as the various groups were directed about by humans, holoforms and mechs. "Only those who threaten us."

~Food and more medical supplies are arriving with the Protectobots in a couple hours,~ Sideswipe reached out to her. ~Prime wasn't expecting this level of need.~

Ma-le's gratitude through the bond was so heartfelt it might as well have been the twins themselves who were sending the supplies.

~You saved my sisters, and so many others. You are the best of all the swamx,~ she gushed as her sisters followed her nervously to stand in front of the giants where they sat, playing guard to the army regulars.

There was no missing the way the pair puffed their armor out in pride before Sunstreaker lowered his hands for the girls to climb on.

"Don't be afraid," Ma-le urged her sisters. "Arun Shwe would never hurt you. He and Mvkang are the very best warriors in the tribe of the gods. You could not be in safer hands," she beamed with pride.

Her sisters shyly climbed onto the golden bladewarrior's hands, trembling with nervous fear, but trusting their eldest sister without question as they were lifted above the level of the other humans and offered a place to lean against the flawless golden mirror finish of Sunstreaker's chest. The girls felt through their skin what Ma-le felt through her bond; once they were safely in Sunstreaker's hands and above those who hurt them before, both warriors relaxed.

"Only our enemies need fear us," Sideswipe added with a smile, already looking at Suu-kyi as a prospective socket. "We protect what is ours."

"They are _very_ protective," Ma-le bragged, "and they take _very_ good care of me." Ma-le giggled at he innuendo.

"Kuhn Jazz said I could come when I am older," Suu-kyi said shyly, while Tsin remained perfectly quiet, far too aware of the state of her clothing and the dry, uncomfortable mess between her thighs, not to mention the continued pain from her damaged secret parts. The image of her rapists being savagely killed by the gods kept running through her mind with equal parts terror and relief.

"Yes, and I'm sure she'll tell you all about what living with an expectant Seeker is like while we're hunting," Sunstreaker smirked a bit. "We're looking forward to your arrival. Your sister misses you."

"Mechs, I need to take her," Jolt said a little uncomfortably, his optics on the youngest and one hand out. "She can visit again after I've repaired the damage."

"Damage? What damage? Tsin?" Ma-le asked, only just noticing how pale and uncomfortable her youngest sister looked.

The girl only flinched, moving herself away from Jolt's hand and toward her sisters.

"Two soldiers, Ma-le," Suu-kyi murmured sadly. "Your husbands killed them. They can't hurt her again."

"Come Tsin," the girl's father said gently and firmly from below. "This swamx is a shaman for his tribe. He can help you."

Jolt nodded. "Killblade told me you were brave and strong to help the others. Be brave and I'll make the pain and weakness go away."

Sunstreaker, to his credit, didn't move his hands until the girl nodded. Only then did he bridge the gap to where Jolt's hand was, touching the edges so Tsin could crawl over without risking a fall.

"Her recovery will be much faster than yours, Ma-le" Sideswipe offered the only comfort he could think of as they watched the medic speak quietly to the girl as he took her out of Skyfire, her father following them. "She'll have a good mech when she's old enough, too."

Ma-le gave one more worried look after her sister. "It could have been far worse for both of them," she said quietly, pulling Suu-kyi close to her.

"Much worse," Sunstreaker agreed with a low rumble and a glare for the soldiers he guarded. "We're here now and no one is going to hurt you again," he promised darkly.

"Regular soldiers out now," Killblade ordered, distracting them from the subject. "Enlisted form up and settle in four rows of ten on the eastern edge of the village. Officers, Khan Bo and Tat Khwè Tat Kyat Kyee will be on the west side." Killblade used to the official Myanmar army ranks for the various NCOs who were present so no one could claim confusion.

The pace at which the soldiers complied with the order spoke volumes about just how terrified they were. Suu-kyi watched them stumble off the shuttle, the image of the brutal deaths of many of the other soldiers still fresh in her mind when she turned back to look at her enormous, terrifying rescuers whom her elder sister was so at ease with.

"You both look so different from Kuhn Jazz," she quietly noted.

"You met Kuhn Jazz's holoform, sister," Ma-le explained. "A form he puts part of his spirit into when he does not wish for others to see his true self. He looks very much like my husbands, though he is a third smaller."

"Then ... how do you ... mate? With their holoforms?" Suu-kyi looked bewildered.

"Easier to show than explain," Sunstreaker said suggestively, causing his brother to rev his engine in agreement. Even as much of a non-battle as it was, they were still keyed up and eager for release.

"Not in my hold," Skyfire rumbled all around them.

Suu-kyi jumped at the sound of the voice, at which Ma-le giggled. "The shuttle is also a god, sister. You would not believe how tall _he_ is."

The younger Lisu girl's eyes were impossibly wide. "I am not certain my father would approve of your...showing me," she whispered, though there was no doubt about her intense curiosity.

"I'm very certain Prime would not approve either," the shuttle rumbled in warning even as Killblade entered before either twin could object to such a ridiculous restriction.

**"The soldiers are sedated until Prime can decide what to do with ready to hunt again, brothers? The SpecOps femmes would like us to create some havoc."**

**"Always,"** Sunstreaker grinned in pure malevolence and stood to roll outside before setting the girls down. "We'll return when the fighting is over."

**"Taking Skyfire or driving?"** Sideswipe asked with an eager bounce on his pedes.

**"Skyfire is needed to bring more NEST teams and relief supplies here,"** Killblade explained. **"We're to harass and trash every major base and supply line we can find to draw the military away from the capitol and what the SpecOps are doing."** the blue warrior explaine with a predatory grin.

**"Sounds fun,"** Sideswipe stepped outside the shuttle and transformed. He revved his engine for his brothers to join him as he rolled out of the village and quickly sped up.

Jolt watched as his lover sped away with his glitched brothers, and vented, wishing he was going with them. He really needed to slag something at the moment, to calm his fury over his current task. He had just as much inclination to take his fury out on the officers of this particular unit of the Myanmar army as the bladewarriors did. But instead, he activated every caretaker protocol he had to deal patiently and avoid showing his unsettled emotions to the girls whose bodies he would restore and recent memories he would erase if possible.

Repairing damage he could handle. A small nanite injection would see them healed in a joor or two. Wiping the memory of the gang rape they had endured would involve a great deal of discomfort for him, but was kindness to the girls. But a culture which demanded that they prove themselves 'virgin' to be worthy of marriage made him want to destroy something big ... like a base, or a capital. Yes, destroying the capital of this messed up organic nation might help.

A spike in fear-pheromones from the girl he was currently tending snapped his full and complete focus to the task at hand.

"I won't hurt you," he promised in his calmest Lisu.

"You are so angry, swamx shaman," she whimpered, trying to make herself as small as possible.

Jolt paused in his work, shocked that she had noticed. He wasn't giving any outward sign of his emotional turmoil that she should have been able to read, but there was no doubt of her fear. Somehow, something had slipped past his outwardly caring and professional demeanor.

"I apologize," he in the softest, most gentle voice he was capable of. "I _am_ angry, but not with you. I am angry with those who hurt you. My tribe values protecting those who do not have the physical strength to protect themselves, and we become very angry when those with strength and power injure or abuse those who are weaker than they are."

She uncurled and nodded, displaying the innate trust she had of him once she'd been told he was a shaman. "You wanted to go with the warriors, shaman?"

Jolt regarded her for a moment, accessing the information he had on human senses to try to ascertain how she was reading this from him. It didn't help at all. She _shouldn't_ have been able to tell.

"I did," he nodded, continuing his work. "Out of a desire for retribution on those who have hurt you and the others. I am a warrior as well as a healer, but I was a warrior first. However, in this case, healing is what I am needed for."

"Thank you, shaman," she lowered herself even more than she already was. "Thank you for tending to girls and not fighting at your mate's side."

"How are you able to know these things, little one?" he finally asked, baffled and intensely curious at the same time.

"I feel it, as I do with people and animals, shaman," she tried not to tremble, uncertain if knowing such things was forbidden, though given hope from his mood.

"Don't be afraid," he assured her. "I'm just curious. I haven't met humans who were able to sense such things. How long have you been this way?"

"My mother said I always have been, even before I was born, shaman," she tried to center herself as much as she could. "My father's father's mother had the gift as well."

Jolt nodded. There were references to such abilities in human literature. He simply had not put any stock into it, though he knew as well as anyone that human science had only scratched the surface of what was possible in nature.

"I've fixed your physical damage. You will be able to function normally and no one will be able to tell you were violated on physical examination. I can also take away the memory of the rape if you wish. Having such a memory can be very trying on your species and make it difficult for you to enjoy pleasure later on. Would you like for me to do so?"

Her eyes went wide. "Yes, _please_ make me forget, shaman."

Jolt gave her a reassuring smile. "Of course. I am going to touch you on the back of your neck, and you will fall asleep. When you wake up, you will have no memory of it to disturb or hurt you."

He waited for her to nod in understanding, and then extended his field cable made up of nanofiliments that could slip into an organic brain without her ever feeling it. Not as perfect a connection as that which was achieved with a socket, but good enough for what he needed to do. Once she was sleeping, he sifted through the memories, found the ones needed, and erased them. The fact that he had to relive her violation in order to do so left him shaken almost to the point of keening. He was in such a hurry to exit her mind that he wasn't even tempted to take a closer look at what created her ability, not that he would have. He was too good of an Autobot to violate her in that way, not to mention it was illegal. Not that legality would not have stopped several mechs he knew.

He shuttered his optics briefly and gave a mental count of how many times he'd have to experience the sexual violation of a child before he was done with this group. It made him shudder and wonder if it might be worth asking Hound how he coped with what happened to Mirage. It could be a while before he could let Killblade spike him, but at least the warrior enjoyed being spiked.

With gentle tingle, he woke her up as he disconnected.

"How do you feel?" he asked gently as her eyes opened and took him and her surroundings in.

"I feel good, shaman," she answered with a bright, grateful smile. "Thank you for taking my pain."

"You are very welcome, little one," he replied earnestly. As awful as it was, _he_ could handle the memories in a way that young organic, or even an adult human would never be able to. It was _right_ to do this for the children if he could. Sadly, the ones who had been with the army longer than a few days could not be helped this way without doing damage. The memories were simply too integrated, and even if they were erased, they would experience all of the same post traumatic symptoms without any understanding as to what was triggering the terror.

* * *

Sunstreaker reveled in the perfection of his Cybertronian alt mode, his speed, and every aspect of his design as he raced over and in some cases off the roads heading toward Naypyidaw at speeds that would crush an organic occupant. Not that he had any plans in having one of the soiled little creatures inside of him...well...other than Ma-le, but she didn't count. She was _his_. He released in his speed that pent up rage that she had been hurt when she was younger, along with her kin, so recently hurt, who would also belong to him when they were older. As little challenge as the pathetic human military bases posed to him, it felt _good_ to exact vengeance on them. To show everyone what happened to those who hurt what belonged to him and is twin.

They were but a few kliks away from a major military base 80 km outside of the capital. Their instructions were simple. Make sure all of the attention went to _that_ base and not to what Jazz's agents were doing in the capital, just as they had to every base on the way to this one.

Thanks to the tactic of always leaving the radio man alive and telling him afterwards that they were swamx and this was retribution for the attack on the village they protected, the last few units had recognized what was coming. That meant this base, and the military in general, had all attention locked on them.

**"Incoming!"** Killblade howled gleefully as the heavy artillery began to rain down.

Sunstreaker easily evaded every shell that exploded around him, the power of the blasts unable to do a lick of damage other than the annoying soot and scratches on his armor, to which he reciprocated with deadly force as he transformed and began shooting, slicing, crushing, and otherwise raining destruction on every weapon, piece of equipment, and human he found, accompanied with his deafening roars of rage.

Sideswipe and Killblade flanked him, forming a swath of destructive power far wider than any human would expect of their three light war frames. With a howl of unabashed excitement Sideswipe transformed and throttled his alt mode to slam through a perimeter guard tower and two wooden buildings beyond it.

**"He hasn't changed much,"** Killblade laughed in good spirits as he pounced on a tank and shredded it into three neat segments.

**"We only become faster and deadlier,"** the golden twin replied as he tore open an armored vehical and flung the occupants to create bloody smears on the wall of a building where others were fleeing.

Unlike his brothers, Sunstreaker had no laughter or glee. He was pure malice, the very face of hell for the base as he skated toward the building the soldiers were attempting to escape to. He ripped off its roof and began scooping the humans out in order to toss them in the air and slice them in two.

Throughout the base, soldiers dropped their weapons to flee, collapse in terror, or try to surrender. It helped none of them. Without younglings to protect, a local to keep pacified, or an officer to hold them back, the three bladewarriors were free to indulge themselves fully in their nature. They knew it would horrify most of their faction-mates to witness them, and in a way it made it all that much sweeter to let loose. No one who would judge them would witness this, and Soundwave, if he was watching, already knew what they were in full. The thought that they should hold back, or that such footage could be used against their faction never crossed their processors.

They protected what belonged to them, whether socket, lover, or faction. Everything else was fair game when they had the opportunity. It was how they were built, coded, and sparked at the order of Optimus Prime. To be anything else would violate their most basic selves.

* * *

Silver Shadow crouched low in the bedroom of one of the ruling generals in the Myanmar Junta, the one who just happened to be the traitorous brother of the exiled leader of the democratic opposition, Hla Cho Mya Myiang. The SpecOps femme pinned the terrified human to his bed with one hand and connected to his spinal cord and brain with a field socket cable.

~You're mine now, understand?~ she crooned directly into his mind. ~You live or die, feel pleasure or pain, at my discretion.~

Hla Cho Saw Win shook uncontrollably. "What are you?" he managed to ask, his eyes shut, not daring to look at the monster that held him immobile and was also somehow in his head.

She chuckled and answered him in the ancient Cybertronian dialect her carrier's carrier had taught her, a musical clicking whirl that was said to mean 'my child' as it was first spoken by Primus to Prima. ~But the locals call us swamx.~

She felt the recognition hit his brain, along with a burst of disbelief and scorn. "Hill Tribe nonsense. What are you really? Some new weapon from the Americans?"

"I am a weapon of my grandfather, Jazz," she told him calmly. "A weapon of the Unmaker and the Prime at his discretion. We are the new rulers of Earth."

He finally opened his eyes and forced himself to look at the slender, silver mechanical creature almost three times his height. "Whoever programmed you did an amazing job. I'll play along with whatever this is. What do you want with us?"

The creature above him smirked, the intricate construction of her features displaying the expression easily. "You're about to be promoted as the leader of a successful coup d'état. As the new leader, you first act will be to invite the Lord Prime to build a city in this nation at the location of his choosing. You will change the local laws to comply with his wishes. You will obey him for as long as you wish to exist."

She felt him recognize the possibilities with such a position, his own enemies among the generals gone or discredited, advising a more powerful ally who would be far better at controlling the populace than even the army. "Alright, robot. I'll go along. Better alive than what you have done to all of our bases between here and Kachin. I assume whomever sent you is also responsible for that slaughter. I have plenty of experience keeping this population in order, so hopefully your ... Lord Prime ... will recognize good advice when he hears it. But I want General Soe Than's mansion for myself."

"Tsk, tsk, if you want to live, you'll keep any violent or self promoting thoughts to yourself. The Lord Prime doesn't like it," she chuckled and withdrew the connection. "Here's your first lesson. I own you."

With a silent command she had him sit up, then get up to retrieve the gun in the bed stand, the one he always kept loaded in case of trouble, and bring it to his own head. "Long live Prime and Cybertron!" He announced and pulled the trigger without hesitation.

Then she let control go.

San Win dropped the unloaded gun in horror and curled up on the bed, shaking uncontrollably. "I'll do what you ask," he begged. "Please, just don't ever do that to me again, and don't hurt my family."

"Good human," she praised him as he would have a pet dog that did something right. She pulled a human-sized datapad from subspace and placed it on the bed next to him. "I'll send you a message when the coup is complete. Until then, remain home, read the file and prepare your family to move into Soe Than's mansion, as you will be the temporary head of state, for at least a few days. Once all is ready, you and I will spend some time together to ensure everything is set up and you know what I expect of you."

As she left the room, she heard the General begin to sob.

30 minutes later, Silver Shadow calmly walked in the open past the deceased security forces in Naypyidaw's military zone. It was where all of the highest Generals were conveniently housed in a single area full of mansions and wide boulevards. Taking out the security for the zone had been far too easy, and since communications were now down, there had been no way for the junta leaders to call for help. Not that any of them even knew they were in danger before her team and the nanites took their lives.

Every general of the cabinet, along with their wives, their aids and other top officials, save those SpecOps selected to 'lead' the coup or were otherwise slated for survival were now dead. Their children were in stasis. Conveniently, all of the generals had attended a state dinner that evening with their wives, so their 'death by poisoning' would appear most believable. Special nanites had already duplicated the poison in their bodies. The only thing that would give it away would be if someone had witnessed a death that was far too sudden, but since the nanites were programmed to kill when the subject was at rest, that was unlikely.

The puppet Prime Minister, General Arun Thuza, was one of the two generals selected to back the coup, the other being the exiled democracy leader's brother. Both generals were now under her control. The current Prime Minister been easy, having already been used to the idea that he was merely a figurehead that did as he was told by those in charge.

She slipped into the shadows and vanished from detection as she approached the palace of the only leader left to deal with; the chairman of the State Peace and Development Council General Soe Than, the true dictator of the nation who had claimed illness and not attended the dinner.

What would come after she was finished with him was what she really wasn't looking forward to, and had hopes she wouldn't have to deal with at all. His wife and his mistress were pregnant with viable young, so they couldn't die and stasis was preferable to avoid, thanks to Prime's morals.

~You're in a mood,~ her bonded and sister brushed against her awareness.

~You know I'm a better spy than assassin,~ she grumbled, then sighed. ~This is grandcarrier's thing.~

~I know,~ Starjumper wrapped her in mental warmth. ~It'll be done soon and no longer our processor ache.~

Silver Shadow silently entered the master suite of the dictator's mansion only to find him sitting in his bed with a knife to the throat of a child prostitute, a girl, probably only 12 or 13 years old.

"Come one step closer and I will kill her," General Soe Than said. "Word reached me before communications went down of what you have been doing on our bases in retaliation for damage to the children in some rebel village. You come any closer to me, and another child will be dead."

Silver Shadow cocked her head and shifted back a bit as she calculated variables and timing reactions. She could easily win without the child being injured any of a dozen ways.

"If you know what we've been up to, just what do you think you'll accomplish besides making me angry?" she asked, leaving heavily on her bonded for calmness.

The general did not even answer her. The girl shrieked in fear and pain as he began to draw his knife across her neck in a last ditch desperate effort to save his own skin.

He paused and spoke over the girl's frantic screams. "I want to be taken to China, or she dies."

Faster than the human brain could process, she was on them, her hand closed around his hand, pulled the blade clear of the girl, who was already being moved to the femme's far side.

"You were saying?" Silver Shadow got right in his face.

"Send me to China," he dared to demand, staring at her with the eyes that were beyond fear. "I have allies there. Major allies. You do not want to anger them. I have already gotten word out the old fashioned way about what is happening here."

The same cable she'd used to take control of the others slid out of her wrist and burrowed into his neck, allowing her to riffle through his mind with impunity as well as deposit the nanites that would control him.

He tried to grab at the cable to rip it out, only to find that he had lost control of his own body. "What are you doing to me! Don't you know who I am? This will never be tolerated!" He shrieked.

"You are a dead meatbag," she hissed, grateful that he'd been bluffing about getting word out, as she'd expected. She and her bonded were far too good at what they did for anything to have gotten out, and they really didn't want to piss of China just yet. "The only question is how long I can justify taking to kill you, given my mission. Let's see what you're afraid of," she dove into his mind ruthlessly, not caring if she caused damage given what would be happening soon.

**"I take it this is one of those you need me to take back?"** Starjumper asked of her bonded's back as she scooped up the completely petrified girl.

**"Yes. She's a prostitute from what I've gathered, but she'll have nearly a metacycle of education before Prime lets a mech near her that way."**

**"Gatcha, and have fun breaking him,"** the aerial femme nodded and vanished in a flash of golden light.

"Ah ha," Silver Shadow laughed as she found what she was looking for in his mind. This general had ordered the conscription of children into his army and had knowingly allowed his soldiers to rape any girl of an ethnic minority they came across. He'd ordered children to be sold into prostitution or forced labor, had ordered entire villages slaughtered and burnt to the ground to erase their memory, and had brutally repressed his people for nearly 30 years. This same general was as frightened of rape as he reveled in ordering its use as a means to keep the tribes under his brutal thumb.

He had raped and killed girls brought to him for his own entertainment. Now he would face the same.

~You are about to find out why the locals call us swamx,~ she purred as she clawed his night clothes from his body and slid her interface panel back to give him a good long look at her natural sized spike. ~To those who worship us, we bring great pleasure. To those who anger us, we feed on pain and drain you entirely.~

He tried to shout 'no' only to find that he could not speak. Trembling, he fell to his knees, begging the lithe monster not to destroy him this way.

~Please, don't. I can help you. I will cooperate,~ he pleaded in the last manner left to him.

~Too late,~ she growled at him and forced him to his front, one knee spreading his legs. ~Your death was chosen before this operation began. The only question was of how and how quickly. You have chosen slow, painful and humiliating.~

* * *

Ma-le looked around at the transformation of her village. Where huts had stood, there were now watertight tents with cots holding the recovering wounded. Soldiers, ones whose NEST logos proclaimed them trustworthy, were spread throughout the area, organizing to meet the needs of not just Tiger Village, but the conscripted members of the army whose villages did not want them back and even a few of the girls whose families had disowned them or had died in actions against Hill Tribe villages in the past. Her father had made it clear that Tiger Village would welcome any who were rejected or otherwise without a home.

Her little sister now had no memory of her rape, though her body had not been restored to that of a virgin like the other girls. She was destined to live among the Swamx and be married to one when she was old enough, and they had no cares about physical virginity.

Her mother was recovering nicely with Jolt's help and the assistance of NEST medics. All in all, as horrible as the day had started, it was ending with a sense of hope for everyone in the village. Now, if only her husbands would come back. Every time she reached out to them she sensed they were enjoying themselves, but were blocking her from knowing just what they were doing. This was, of course, their right, and she did not fault them for it.

A graceful mass of rich, bright blue caught her attention and she focused on Jolt making his way between the various tents. He looked ... not quite right. Far more tired than she'd ever seen a swamx. She recalled that he didn't seem to have a wife, and neither did Killblade. Perhaps he hadn't had any myi in too long.

She shyly walked toward him. "Kuhn Jolt?" she said softly as she approached him. "You look so tired. Would you like for me to find one of the older girls to give you her myi? I'm sure there are many who would be honored when you have helped us so much."

He smiled and knelt by her, offering his hand if she wanted to be on optic level with him. "Thank you, Ma-le," his voice sounded more tired than he looked as he stood with her in hand. "I just miss Killblade," he said softly. "Every child that no longer remembers their pain is because I took it for myself in making them forget. I've had little to balance that pain with him off fighting without me."

She looked at him with knowing eyes, far wiser than her years or her seemingly primitive culture would predict. "It is a horrible pain you took on, and I am grateful for all of those girls who will not have to live with it. I can imagine how you must need your mate, to let pleasure dull the memories of pain."

For the first time since she had met her husbands, Ma-le briefly wished that they shared her more freely, as Kuhn Sarah's swamx did. She knew that she could help him as he waited for his bladewarrior lover.

A small, thankful smile graced his features. "How did you deal with it, Ma-le, if you don't mind telling? I can partition and dull the memories, even remove them to a point. Your kind don't have that ability."

She gave a shy smile, and then looked down at her hands and spoke in a barely audible tone, though Jolt had no trouble hearing her. "I was so young, just like these girls, and there were three soldiers who took me several times. I ... I had evil dreams for several years and was terrified of marrying and having a husband, of having to relive that happen whenever he desired me. But I always knew that I kept the soldiers distracted from my other sisters and my brother. It was worth it. That is what I reminded myself every time I got scared or had an evil dream. Kuhn Jazz and my husbands helped me overcome my fear."

He nodded his understanding. "Thank you. Time and experience do seem to be the best healers of the mind." His expression change very suddenly, optics spiraling open and an eager shiver passing down his frame. "They're coming back. Would you like to come with me, to greet your husbands and my mate?"

She gave a bright smile. "Thank you, Jolt. I am so pleased they are back!" As always, she was suddenly full of anticipation for her husbands. Any time they came back from an absence, no matter how short, was a joyful time for her.

A rumbling sound of approval came from the medic as he set her down, transformed and opened the passenger side door for her. "I don't expect they'll reach the village until dawn if we have anything to do with it," he chuckled as she climbed in.

"They probably will need a good washing. Arun Shwe will be very grumpy without a proper washrack and his polish. I should have thought to bring my polishing kit along, but I was only thinking about my family." Ma-le sounded as if such an omission in duty was near unforgivable.

"He'll be in _far_ too good a mood to care yet," Jolt assured her as he tore out of the village at the highest speeds he dared with a human on board. "Though I am sure you'll be cleaning him before we go home. First we need to get them very messy in a different way," he rumbled eagerly, his engine pouring on just a little more power.

Ma-le smiled in relief and reached out to her husbands to welcome them back and tell them she was coming to them. The _excitement-joy-arousal-pleasure_ that came back made her warm and tingling in her womanly places.

"When do you think you and your mate will find a wife?" she asked Jolt to make the time fly more swiftly, "or a human husband," she added a second later, correcting her automatic assumption.

"We've been looking, well, mostly I've been looking. We just haven't clicked with anyone yet. The sooner we find someone that at least I find agreeable, the sooner we can take our relationship to the next stage," he said with a mixture of eager, wistful and deep desire.

"What do you look for in a human?" Ma-le was very aware from her growing friendship with Sarah Lennox that mechs had extremely different tastes when it came to those who gave myi to them.

"Someone who's very strong in myi, who's eager to help with a sparkling and doesn't mind one warrior who will never grow out of the exuberant teenage stage and a second mech who's in the middle of an identity crisis trying to transition from frontline warrior to peacetime medic. If it wasn't so important to have a socket before we try to have a sparkling, I think we'd both be content to share with those freely available. A talent for something artistic would be a real plus," he added almost randomly.

"You should look among the Lisu or the other Hill Tribes," she said with nod indicating the finality of her judgment. "If you do not wish to wait for my youngest sister to be old enough, there are other girls who would give you the proper respect and honor, and many in my village are artists.

Jolt hummed thoughtfully. "Perhaps one of the older girls, maybe one I couldn't take the memories from. You know what a bladewarrior needs to be happy ... if you could suggest a few girls for us to get to know before we leave?"

Ma-le smiled gently. "Kuhn Jazz said that none of the acceptable girls from my village were old enough by Prime's laws, but there are a few from the other villages that you helped today, who are already of the right age. Having two swamx as husbands will certainly help them overcome their pain and fear. There are a couple whose villages are gone, and they don't have anywhere to go. But they could still be good wives."

"Yes, I'd like to meet them outside the medical tent," he said. A shiver of excitement passed through his frame as he began to slow down. "They're just ahead."

"Thank you, Kuhn Jolt, for bringing me along and for everything you did today. You are a gem among the gods," Ma-le said sweetly, even as she strained to look ahead and see her husbands.

She barely picked out the gleam of gold and silver ahead of them before all four were coming to a stop. The bladewarriors transformed, their frames marred by scratches, small dents and a lot of dried and drying mud and blood. Jolt took a moment longer, so Ma-le could get out, then all but threw himself at Killblade as he transformed.

The blood made her stop short for a moment. She knew that some humans would have to die for the swamx to save her country, but it still reinforced how deadly they were, how quickly a god, when angered, could make a human look unrecognizable in his death. She and her village were fortunate, indeed, to have the gods on their side.

She smiled shyly at them. "I am pleased you are back," she said softly, her body responding to the sight of them not with fear, but with desire to reward them for their victory.

"Glad to be back," Sideswipe reached down and picked her up, his silver cables snaking out to caress her even as Sunstreaker moved close, his hands wrapping around Sideswipe's and his cables joining the silver ones caressing her body.

"Things are good with your kin?" Sunstreaker asked with a glance towards the obviously shaken Jolt taking comfort in Killblade's arms and attention.

"Yes, Kuhn Jolt not only fixed my sister's body, he took away the memory of what the soldiers did to her. He did that for all of the girls, except those whose memories were too old. They were not easy memories for him to see," she glanced over to the two mechs again. "I can't imagine what would have happened to them without you." The Lisu girl caressed their cables, looking at both her husbands with adoration.

Sunstreaker grunted his understanding and focused completely on his socket. His connector cable twined with his brother's and they plugged in, eager to share the rush that came after battle.

She threw hear head back, closed her eyes and moaned at the intensity. She had never felt anything like it, even when she was connected to one watching the other spar. This wasn't the rush of seeing action, but the rush of a battle well fought and survived, a victory they relished in. Gravity and balance went chaotic for a moment, but she felt no stress connected with the motion as Sunstreaker pushed Sideswipe to the ground. Arousal and the desire to celebrate in pleasure with the most important beings in their life radiated from the pair.

Cables snaked out to stroke her, undress her, enflame her body and prepare her for her husband's spike, knowing that the one that didn't take her would take his twin and she would feel it all.

There was nothing in life better than being with both of them at the same time, of feeling their minds in hers, stimulating her body with the power of their minds and with their powerful, enormous bodies. She especially loved being filled with one of their spikes as the rhythm of the other thrusting roughly into his twin moved the one she rode in just the right way. But nothing was sweeter than the indescribable ecstasy as her myi flowed into their sparks, so hungry for her, rewarding her pleasurable sacrifice with their own breathtaking overload and that timeless moment when she lost all sense of where she ended and they began.

* * *

Just inside the treeline a few hundred meters away Killblade had lowered Jolt to his back, careful of his winglets, and covered his chassis with his own. The kisses were almost frantic, the smaller frame trembling with need that had nothing to do with desire.

**"Let me connect,"** Killblade whispered, sliding a claw over one of the hardline ports at the base of Jolt's neck. **"Share the pain."**

Jolt opened the port, continuing to shake, the horrors of the day finally undoing what little emotional equilibrium he had.

**"You'd think after everything I've seen, this wouldn't have been so hard,"** Jolt said with a sob-like whisper.

**"As a frontliner, we could exact vengeance, or at least focus on it,"** his lover murmured before plugging in one of his own shoulder cables into the offered port. ~You had to stay behind, experience the pain and were denied any outlet. I couldn't take it,~ he admitted with a real sense of awe that his lover hadn't broken orders and gone hunting.

~There were too many who needed help. My skills are needed more now as a healer. I had to live those memories like they were my own. They do this to younglings, Killblade. _younglings_!~

The larger warrior shuddered at the intimate knowledge of what his lover had experienced. ~Did, Jolt.~ He insisted firmly. ~They _did_ it to younglings. We have control of them now. Prime will never allow it to happen again.~

~I know enough about how much the young and weak are abused on this world for it to be a bittersweet victory. We will never be able to keep humans safe from one another, nor should we in the long run,~ Jolt found himself sinking to a bleak place he rarely allowed himself to go. If he'd spent the day avenging the younglings rather than partially healing a few and leaving so many more with mental scars that would never truly go away, he would be in a far different processorset.

~I know, but those families that join us, those you saw and earned the trust of today, will never face it again,~ Killblade tried to reassure him as they kissed, sinking deeper into each other's awareness. Jolt shared the deep pain of his day and the memories that were now his own, while Killblade offered him the relief of well-directed violence and the gradually building pleasure of their chassis.

~Thank you,~ Jolt whispered as he sank deeper into his lover's memories of the day, a warrior's version of justice soothing away the brutal memories. It would not occur to either of them that some of those who were destroyed by blades, plasma, hands and feet that day were also among the innocent. Just as it would never occur to them to feel compassion for Decepticons who fought because they had been reprogrammed to do so rather than making any conscious choice. They were the enemy, and frontliners could ill afford to dwell on the complexities of war. Jolt's medic training and coding was increasingly contradicting the beautiful simplicity of a frontliner perspective, and it was more difficult than he would ever admit. Sinking into the safety and strength of his mate was a sweet relief.

The medic needed to submit to that strength, not with valve - that was too difficult after the memories of what had been done to so many organic versions of that particular upgrade. He needed to submit to the spark that was so pure in its purpose. He surprised both of them by unlocking his chestplates.

Killblade tensed sharply, his claws digging into the ground by Jolt's head as he struggled to suppress the reflex that this was insanely dangerous. Unprotected, out in the open, in the middle of a war. But the need he could feel so profoundly in his lover made him reach out across the newly reopened brother-bond. He could hear that the twins were 'facing, knew from experience that Sunstreaker wouldn't last much longer. He might owe his ill-tempered brother, but once he overloaded once, Killblade was sure he could get one of them to stand guard for the few kliks a merge would take.

Jolt seemed to come to his senses for a moment, ~What the frag is wrong with me?~ he asked. It wasn't that he didn't feel the danger. But he had such an intense and instinctive trust in the mech on top of him, that the desire to feel his spark was overriding all of his normal caution.

~New protocols, trauma,~ Killblade soothed him and focused on caressing winglets and kissing him gently. ~They'll be done in a moment. Then I'll balance you. You've pulled me back from near-madness before. I will now.~

Jolt shivered and dimmed his optics, drinking in the comfort of the tender, soothing touches, running his newly upgraded medic hands along the sensitive components between Killblade's strong shoulder struts and his neck.

~I love you, so slagging much, Killblade,~ he murmured, his processor unconsciously moving to the fantasy of what it could be like when he would feel that balance to his spark no matter what, no matter where they were, as bondmates. To have his mech be a part of his spark, literally. He gasped at the intensity of his desire for something he had never even allowed himself to imagine when they served under Chromia on Longshot. Frontliners did not bond, and rarely paired off as more than casual lovers.

~I'm still a frontliner,~ Killblade murmured, warmed, awed and more than a little stunned by the intensity of the emotions directed at him. ~I'll never be at any less of risk. Even if I last until my spark can't support my frame anymore, you'll still have a long time without me. You know preprogrammed mechs aren't made to last.~

~Worth it,~ Jolt admitted without hesitation. ~And the sooner we do it, the longer I have you with me, as a part of me. My kin are long gone, my city is ashes. All the reasons to go slow don't exist any longer. I've known you for most of my existence as it is.~

Jolt knew he was babbling, but it felt _so_ good to be connected to someone he loved enough to reveal himself fully.

~I am yours, whenever you are ready,~ Killblade trembled at the intensity of what was between them. ~I've wanted you for my own for a long time.~

Suddenly, there just did not seem any reason to wait. ~I want to ask Prime and Chromia for permission when we get back ... when we get _home_. There are some promising candidates for a socket among the humans we rescued, as well. It would feel _good_ to be able to bring pleasure to one who had been so hurt,~ Jolt confessed, covering his lover's facial components with kisses.

Killblade kissed him back just as frantically, sliding their armor together with an all-too-erotic kind of friction. ~Take my valve, when we merge?~ he half asked, half offered in an effort to begin to wash away the trauma of others.

~Yess,~ Jolt hissed in excitement, lucid thought becoming impossible as they both focused on lighting every sensor they came into contact with. The wild primate cries of an overloading human and the groans and keens of two mechs overloading with her reached them, igniting their desire even further.

With a shifting of frames Killblade spread his legs so his exposed valve rubbed against Jolt's hot interface panel. He had to arch his lower backstrut to bring their spark chambers even, though he didn't unlock his chest plates.

~Guard for a few kliks?~ Killblade reached out to his brothers. ~He needs a merge.~

Surprise and approval met his request, and within a klik both of his brothers were standing guard, Sunstreaker cradling a sharing blissed Ma-le who had lost consciousness. Yes, a little human from a jungle village would make a fine socket, Jolt thought briefly even as he began shaking with ravenous desire to touch the spark that was his perfect match.

He opened his panel and his chest plates simultaneously, his chamber spiraling open to fill the rain forest with a brilliant red light that was joined by Killblade's instense white within nanokliks. Their coronas brushed, flaring out towards the other as Killblade shifted and slid down on Jolt's spike with a lusty groan of pure pleasure.

~Love you, want you, need you,~ Killblade whispered, all his fears and desires flashing to the forefront of his awareness when the first tendril of Jolt's spark found a tendril from his and the bolt of ecstasy crashed through his limited defenses.

The pleasure was immediately followed by pain neither were quite prepared for. Memories flashed through them both - the terror, pain, and humiliation of girls' bodies violated, nearly ripped open in a show of brutal domination. Killblade's spark seemed to know exactly what to do, soothing the pain with the comfort of safety, security, and the protection of warriors who would never allow it to happen again. Jolt felt his spark balancing, taking on the strong sense of justice and purpose that was so innate to his lover.

Their sparks sank fully into one another, and for the first time in their existence, they experienced the true oneness that was the birthright of children of Primus, having no sense of where one stopped and the other began. Their first brush of sparks had been but an appetizer for the brilliance of a full merge. Emotions were one, spike and valve were one, and the overload that crashed through them both was one.

~Think it's their first full merge?~ Sideswipe asked his twin as they felt a distant tingle of the overload that would very soon crash both mech's systems, though not before the pair's keens and bellows terrified everything for miles around.

~They are so damn cute it is almost enough to make me purge,~ Sunstreaker replied, his sarcastic words belayed by the ghost of a smile on his faceplates, the finger gently stroking his organic, and the surge of desire sent to his twin.

~Soon, my Sunshine,~ Sideswipe rumbled, eagerly returning the desire. ~We can make him stand guard if you don't want to wait for our quarters.~

~Frag it, Sides, don't call me Sunshine! And he damn well better stand guard. I wasn't close to being finished with you yet.~

* * *

This storyline continues in Hunting Pleasure ch. 26 Burmese Damage Control.


	65. HP 24:  Burmese Damage Control

**Fandom:** Transformers Bayverse  
**Author:** gatekat and femme4jack on LJ  
**Pairing:** Optimus Prime/Hla Cho Mya Myiang  
**Rating:** NC-17 for mech/female  
**Codes:** Het, Xeno (Transformer/Human), First Time, mentions mechpreg  
**Summary:** Prime has _words_ about the tactics used in Burma, then entertains Akha and the female opposition leader in attempting damage control.  
**Notes**: Written in the Dathanna de Gray fanverse (community .livejournal .com/ tf_socket_fics)  
**"text"** translated Cybertronian.  
"text" organic languages  
~text~ bond talk  
::text:: comm chatter

**Follows the events of Sunny Side Up 14/Electric Blades 4: Business in Burma**

**Notice: We are having a reader contest! See ****community. livejournal. com / tf_socket_fics / 51694 . html (remove spaces before and after / and after . for the url)**

* * *

****

Hunting Pleasure 24: Burmese Damage Control

* * *

Optimus Prime sat at his desk with his helm in his hands. He had just finished rereading Jazz's report regarding the 'coup' in Burma and had what humans might call a headache, and not just figuratively. The overthrow that he had approved a the last moment, while his Autobots had been en route to Burma, had been handled far more violently than he would ever have condoned or approved. Now he needed to figure out how to prevent this from bringing their welcome on earth to an ugly end.

Prime had invited Hgwa Akha to accompany his daughter, Ma-le, back to the base so he could speak with village elder and resistance fighter in person and determine what kind of role, if any, he was suitable for in the new government that would be established in the South Asian nation. In addition, Silverbolt had just arrived with the exiled leader of the non-violent democratic resistance in Burma, Hla Cho Mya Myiang. She was the only fairly elected leader of the Southeast Asian nation in the last 30 years, and Prime had every intention of her taking her rightful place as Prime Minister. However, there was no guarantee that she would wish to cooperate, especially considering the tactics Autobot SpecOps had taken when deposing the junta.

Mya Myiang's estranged brother, a member of the junta, was the human SpecOps had selected to be the 'leader of the coup' in interests of restoring his sister to her rightful place as the head of state. Hla Cho San Win was controlled by Silver Shadow and would cooperate with whatever was asked of him. But would a Nobel Laureate and disciple of Gandhian non-violence have any interest in taking control of her country after a bloody overthrow in which over half of the nation's military forces had been brutally slaughtered by Autobot frontliners? Many of them had been conscripts who had no choice about the military they served in, at least no choice if they valued their own lives or the lives of their families.

Things had happened so fast when Ma-le's village had been raised, plans that had not been fully vetted had sped into action, and Prime had put too much trust in Prowl to temper Jazz's tendency toward violence. Now he had to deal with the fallout, and try to create a government in Burma that would both cooperate with the Autobots, but also be something other than a puppet state. He had no interest in ruling anyone other than his own people who followed him freely. They needed more territory than a base in the middle of the Indian Ocean to operate from until they could create an orbital city around Venus and terraform its surface. He likewise needed to show the world that when the Autobots intervened, they did so very differently from human governments. They were not only far more decisive in their intervention, they took a long term approach and would do whatever it took to leave a healthy, functioning nation behind when they were ready to leave, if they were ever asked to go. Hopefully, in the case of Burma, they would have a long term invitation to stay, and not simply from the current highly controlled human leader of an imaginary coup.

And then there was the fact that Prime was sparkweary of being at odds with his SIC. It was going to be some time before the tension between them eased, and Jazz's heavy-handed tactics in Burma were only going to add to that tension. He did not wish to micromanage his officers, but he was starting to wonder if he needed to exert more control over Prowl and Jazz, not that trying to control Jazz worked for _anyone_ other than Prowl.

There was a time when Jazz wouldn't have acted with such blatant disregard of his Prime's intentions. What had happened to that Jazz? Or had he never existed and was simply a product of not being in a situation where Jazz and Prime were not so strongly at odds in their outlook?

Optimus settled himself, leaning on the energy of the matrix to keep him centered and wise for the upcoming debriefing with Silver Shadow, Starjumper, Jazz and Prowl regarding the operations over the previous 48 hours. By the time the door pinged, his optics were pools of patience and his faceplates had settled into an expression of serene strength and confidence.

When the door opened Jazz was first in, and it didn't take knowing him to realize he wasn't a happy mech. Prowl looked utterly contrite ... nearly humiliated as his sensor wings hung low. The two femmes were somewhere between confused and chastised.

It wasn't the looks he was expecting, especially not from the three SpecOps mechs. Before he could say anything, Jazz faced him as squarely across the desk, his optic band dark and features tense.

**"My apologies, Prime, for misreading the situation."**

Prime resisted the urge to cycle his optics in confusion.

**"I accept your apology,"** he replied cautiously. **"We went into this long before we had intended to and had finalized plans. Tell me from your perspective what happened, and what you mean by misreading the situation."**

**"It was a rescue mission when they left. By the time my mechs landed I realized it was ripe for a quick, seamless takeover,"** Jazz drew in a deep vent of air and let it out slowly. **"My processors weren't on the mission. I didn't oversee it. I didn't think that I needed to say that bladewarriors have to be kept tightly in check. I left choices to others I should not have."**

Prime remained utterly calm, nodding in acceptance of Jazz's admission without further comment or question. He turned toward Prowl. **"And your assessment of the mission? Beyond the factual report I have already reviewed?"**

**"The mission was executed flawlessly,"** the tactician first appraised how well they did what they intended to. **"The fault is where it has always been, with the foundation of SpecOps' chain of command, broad immunity to repercussions and perspective on what 'victory' means."**

He paused when Jazz growled softly and turned his attention squarely on his bonded. **"You know this is true. None of your officers, save possibly Mirage, are loyal to the Prime or Autobots first."**

**"They're loyal to me,"** Jazz acknowledged as the two femmes shifted uneasily behind the senior officers. **"I made them, every one of them. I earn that loyalty."**

**"You programmed in that loyalty,"** Prowl corrected evenly, though there was disapproval in his tone. **"None of them had a choice."**

**"Hey!"** Silver Shadow took half a step forward with a warning rattle of her armor. **"Some of us weren't reprogrammed."**

Prowl leveled a hard gaze at her. **"That you are aware of."**

**"At all,"** Jazz rippled his armor, drawing his bonded's attention back to him. **"You don't look that deep, even when I let you. Some mechs were sparked into the culture."**

Prowl's optic ridges rose, but he dropped the subject.

**"So what exactly were your orders to your operatives, Jazz?"** Prime asked, his tone quiet and inscrutable, almost as if the exchange between his officers had not just taken place.

**"I said to take over, minimal damage and no trace to us,"** the SIC answered simply.

Prime looked toward Silver Shadow and Starjumper. **"And the two of you assumed that three enraged bladewarriors whose socket-kin had been raped and kidnapped by the Burmese army would be minimally damaging when it came to distracting the military? They have certainly left quite a trace."** Prime's question somehow managed not sound accusatory or sarcastic, but simply calmly curious.

Silver Shadow sunk back, though her pedes didn't move.

**"Honestly sir, yes,"** Starjumper tried to not tremble. **"Autobots don't normally do that kind of damage."**

**"Sparked warriors like the bladewarrior cadre _always_ need oversight,"** Prime explained in a neutral voice. **"If Jolt had been with them, he would have ordered that restraint. We should have ordered Ratchet or First Aid to accompany them to deal with the injuries and trauma among the humans, so Jolt could have done what we sent him to do. _That_ was a mistake on the part of the entire command, including myself. For sparked warriors, even Ironhide, unless there is someone actively on hand to order restraint, they will go with their core programming, which is absolute devastation for those who have been deemed the enemy."**

Prime looked down at his desk for a moment, and then raised his optics. **"This mission was a disaster in terms of public relations on this planet. It could very well compromise our position on earth. I don't need to tell you what would happen if China, Russia, and the United States were to simultaneously decide we are invaders to be repelled rather than protectors and allies they have invited to share their world. There were many mistakes made here, including my own. We can make the changes to ensure it does not happen again later. Right now, I need suggestions of how to turn this from a potential international relations disaster to an opportunity. I want suggestions from _all_ of you. We are going to fix this."**

**"The bladewarrior's damage can likely be minimized by punishing the mission commanders,"** Starjumper spoke first. **"It was a command mistake and it was my mission."**

Optimus held up his hand to Starjumper. **"Letting you take the fall for the command staff's mistakes would neither be just, nor would it be effective, Starjumper. It is too much like what the humans do."**

**"Do you intend to allow any humans to be aware of the SpecOps side of things?"** Jazz asked.

**"I intend full disclosure to** Hla Cho Mya Myiang. **She is a highly respected throughout the world. I want her on our side, and being honest with her is the first step to gaining her trust."**

Prowl shifted, broadcasting his intention to speak up.

**"That is the best course of action,"** he began. **"There should be consequences for the command element, though the primary fault lies with the three of us. While Starjumper and Silver Shadow made poor choices, we are the ones who put them in charge of a class of mech they had insufficient knowledge of to use appropriately."**

Prime nodded at his TIC. **"I agree. My suggestion is that we personally pay reparations to the family members of those who were killed by the blade warriors on their distraction mission. What other consequences do you suggest that would be meaningful to the human survivors, and most especially to allied governments who find out what happened?"**

**"Everyone on that mission, excluding Jolt, as well as the three of us, should help with the rebuilding,"** Prowl suggested. **"To be fair to the bladewarriors, they'll be excused from regular duties for a matching number of joors, though that should not be stated to outsiders. Hard labor, getting one's hands dirty, is recognized by all humans as a sign of remorse when voluntary and reasonable punishment when not."**

For the first time in the conversation, Prime briefly smiled. **"An excellent suggestion, Prowl. That is how the reconciliation process worked in Rwanda, if I understand the situation correctly. We will publicly volunteer for the duty, along with the bladewarriors, even if I have to order them to do so. It can serve as a model for a reparations and reconciliation process for the mid and lower ranking members of the military. I for one, would enjoy doing some building up for once."**

Prime glanced at the three members of SpecOps to gauge their reactions. It didn't surprise him that they didn't look thrilled, or that the two femmes were discreetly focused on Jazz. When he rippled his armor in acceptance, they did the same. They didn't have frames or personalities suited for construction on a Cybertronian scale, but they would do better than he would on a human scale.

Prime had a bit of sympathy for Jazz. The mech was already incredibly busy, and so was his bonded. They had claimed a socket, had dealt with the trauma of his kidnapping, and had not ever gotten the chance for proper bonding time. And now they were adding what was sure to be a lengthy punishment detail to their duties.

**"You two will take 2 decaorn off once things are settled in Burma, before the rebuilding begins. You never got leave for proper bonding time with Miles, after all. It isn't fair to punish your socket for our failure,"** Prime announced with a knowing look at his most trusted advisors.

**"Thank you, Prime,"** Prowl said with what, for him, was significant gratitude.

**"Yes,"** Jazz added a little more awkwardly. The emotion was there, but there was far more on his processors.

Prime suspected very little had to do with what was being discussed in this room.

**"Jazz, please stay behind for a moment. The rest of your are dismissed,"** Prime signaled the door to slide open. **"If any other ideas occur to you on how to mitigate the situation on the ground, be sure to let me know immediately. I will be meeting with the Burmese leader for the next several joors."**

The three left, Prowl glancing at Jazz with a questioning look as the door slid shut.

**"What is on your mind, old friend? Being this distracted from an SpecOps mission is _not_ like you. You don't let things go wrong."** Prime asked with concern.

The silver mech visibly cringed.

**"We're going to try and kindle, soon,"** he answered quietly. **"Between preparing for that and everything that's happened with Miles, it's been difficult to focus on anything else."**

Prime gave him an understanding smile. **"I am deeply gratified to know that you are about to try. It will be wonderful for both of you, and for the whole base, especially after Hound and Mirage's loss. I only wish you would have excused yourself from command of the mission. We could have easily put Mirage in charge upon his return from Attu island. We didn't _have_ to rescue Ma-le's kin and overthrow the government on the same orn."** Prime's voice was intentionally gentle, his aura projecting concern rather than judgment as he inwardly begged Primus that he was not about to set his SIC off.

**"Hindsight is 20/20, isn't it?"** Jazz smiled, showing just how weary he really was for the first time in Prime's presence, though Optimus knew from Prowl that it happened from time to time. Weary and very close to some kind of breaking point, just not the usual one that led to violence. **"The war's almost over, we can't declare war on these people. My usefulness to you is almost over, and for once, I'm looking forward to a contract being closed. It's past time I disappeared from the spotlight."**

**"I think I am looking forward to seeing what will take your interest when the war is over, Jazz, but I'm afraid I have no wish to release you from your contract, just your current job description."**

Something very close to hate-fueled defiance surged to the fore, flaring his armor out, baring denta and lighting Jazz's visor to a brilliant crimson sun before he settled, no doubt from Prowl's interference. For a moment Jazz looked very much like the Decepticon who would defy Megatron to his faceplates and get away with it.

**"I only meant that I hope never to lose you as a confidant, advisor and friend, Jazz, nothing more than that. You and Prowl, more than any mechs, deserve a chance to fully focus on bond and kin."** Prime almost reached out to touch the saboteur, but had no sense of whether his touch was welcome as it had been during their vorns in search of the Allspark. Especially not with the rage suddenly simmering just below the surface.

**"I have a question of a personal nature ... of _my_ personal nature for you if you don't mind,"** Prime said hesitantly.

**"Shoot,"** Jazz offered, even as he shifted away slightly.

**"Sam and I had another one of those Allspark-Matrix moments last night. Sam actually argued with the Matrix. He had received one of those knowledge bursts, this time that a Prime spark could create life with any mech, without a bond. The Matrix insisted that it is impossible and all the usual warnings about how horribly dangerous it is. Sam ... or whatever was speaking through Sam became vehement, and insisted that it is part of how Primus intends to restore us. Your knowledge predates the Matrix. Have you ever heard of this before?"** Optimus could not keep the longing from his tone.

**"It's how the first generations happened,"** Jazz said thoughtfully as he settled down more. **"Bonding didn't even exist until most of the way through Alpha's rule. It wasn't required for anyone until after we came to this universe. If any spark could channel the original ways, had that much of a connection to Primus, it would be the Prime's."**

Prime couldn't suppress his grin, or his excitement. **"I suppose there would be no harm in trying. The only question is who to approach about an attempt."**

**"Sideswipe would just about extinguish from excitement,"** Jazz suggested with a small smile. **"You'd be the only way he could be a carrier, I expect. Shimmerfire won't be enamored with him for long once she has the right Seekers to form a proper trine. Ratch and Hide both want sparklings desperately and don't have the mates for it, but they'll both refuse until the war's really and truly over. Trailbreaker or Springer would make fine carriers and caretakers,"** he listed off those that came to mind first, then glanced down a bit. **"I know Whiplash and I aren't exactly Prime-raising material, but we both have the systems built for it, we've both successfully carried. We'd be at the least risk of those on Earth. Of those on their way, it would be difficult to do better than Ultra Magnus."**

Optimus smiled softly. **"I would not hesitate to ask you, Jazz, but only after you have carried with Prowl. I actually had in mind raising the sparkling myself, but I would have absolute trust in your and Prowl to do right by any sparkling you raise. I will consider Whiplash as well, along with the others you have mentioned. I am _so_ ready to be creating life rather than destroying it."** This time, Prime did grasp Jazz's shoulder. **"I have missed you, my friend. I am so weary of being at odds with you, and I apologize for my intervention with Miles. He certainly put me in my place, which is, to be honest, what I was hoping he would do. It proved to me that he knew exactly who and what he wanted."**

Jazz nearly flinched at the contact, but looked up at the Prime's face, meeting his optics. **"Thank you, Prime,"** he said quietly, no longer hiding just how out of sorts he was. **"I'll try to have myself sorted out before Burma is rebuilt."**

**"Start your leave any time, Jazz, and make it longer if you wish. You and Prowl have sacrificed your needs for this faction for far too long, and we are in a position to muddle along without you for awhile,"** Prime commented as the door slid open, a clear indication that it was fine for Jazz to make his escape.

The much smaller mech nodded and slipped away, his public mask firmly in place.

Prime was not at all surprised when a few days later he received a formal request from Jazz to go on a temporary leave of absence from duty. Whether Prowl could be convinced to do the same remained to be seen.

* * *

Ma-le sat in the conference room, feeling alone and insecure without one of her mechs, even though her father was present. It was not every day that one sat with the most famous person in her whole nation, even someone who was married to twin gods. At the request of Optimus Prime (and Ma-le was still shaking inside from speaking to the leader of the Swamx), she had given Mya Myiang and her father a tour of base and had attempted to explain her marriage with the two gods to them. Mya Myiang had been educated in the west, and at one point had stopped her to explain that the Cybertronian's were obviously not gods, they were aliens from a different planet.

Ma-le knew better than to dispute her, but inwardly she laughed at the ignorance of big city Burmese and westerners who did not realize that _anyone_ or _anything_ could be a god if one believed in them and gave offerings to them. The offerings and belief gave the gods their power. And what better offering than the incredible pleasure her gods created in her?

But aside from the leader's western-influenced ignorance, Ma-le could tell she was a very powerful person with strong spirits protecting her. The fact that she was still alive after years of vocal opposition to the junta was a testiment to that fact.

Ma-le sat to her father's left, with Mya Myiang on her other side. Across from them, Ironhide and Ratchet's pedes were one story underneath the conference room which had been designed so that a swamx could be eye level with the humans they were speaking to. Will Lennox, Ironhide's human husband, was sitting on the other side of Mya Myiang. They were all awaiting the arrival of the swamx's tribal king and high shaman Optimus Prime, the thought of whom made her tremble yet again.

::There is nothing to fear,:: Ironhide spoke silently to her through her socket even as both her husbands brushed against her soul in silent support of her.

The enormous door slid open and Optimus Prime, shining in gloriously polished flame and night sky, stepped inside.

"Thank you all for coming," the Prime spoke with a deep, thundering voice that held more cooling rains than storm. "I do wish it were under better circumstances."

Ma-le found her eyes drawn to the strong gaze of her nation's democracy hero. Amazingly, Mya Myiang did not flinch or show any sign of fear.

"I, too, would have preferred to meet you under different circumstances. Just what are your intentions for my nation now that you have it?" Mya Myiang cut to the chase without trading any of the usual pleasantries, a true sign of just how flustered the woman was.

"To return it to its rightful rulers," Prime said simply, his focus on her. "What happened in Burma was a series of ill-thought out and under-supervised choices by myself, my command team and those on the scene. For that, I apologize. I also wish to assure you that steps have been taken to ensure it does not happen again. We have outlined a punishment for those involved for your approval."

Mya Myiang put her fingers together in a steeple, the tips of her fingers tapping her lips several times. "Please back up a moment. Why _our_ country? Of all the places you could have gone, why did you come to Burma? And if you were interested in helping to liberate her people, why not contact any members of the opposition beforehand? We could have given you advice on how to proceed without the loss of so many lives. If I assume my elected position now, it will be tainted by murder, a violent coup, and atrocities nearly as extreme as those committed by the junta's forces."

"It was your country because Hgwa Akha's eldest daughter is married to two of my warriors," he indicated Ma-le. "When the army attacked their village and took her younger sisters we were asked to get them back. The first of many mistakes was to send her husbands on the mission, though I still have doubts they could have been stopped. It was intended as a rescue mission. One I knew would be excessively violent, but limited in scope to one unit."

Prime vented a deep, sad sound. "My First Lieutenant, the second in command of the Autobots, is also my Special Operations commander. He came to me with a basic plan to stop the nation-wide abuses not long after the rescue team was airborne. He should not have even thought of it, but the ultimate fault is mine for agreeing to expanding the mission to prevent more violations," he lowered his optics. "I have been a warrior in a desperate war for too long, Mya Myiang. It is not an excuse, but it is a powerful force in my choices when given any plan that will protect innocent people.

"My Second, Jazz, made two poor choices in quick succession. The first was to not put his Second in charge of SpecOps when he knew he could not focus on his duties. The second was to put two officers in charge of the mission that, while extremely capable of executing the plan, had no experience in commanding sparked warriors such as those on the ground with them. They did not know they had to keep very tight control of them or they would cause incredible damage and loss of life.

"It was, in many ways, a perfect storm of mistakes."

Mya Myiang's eyes were unreadable. She looked neither angry, doubtful, nor believing. Her face, in fact, did not give away anything about her, though her stress hormones, respiration and heart rate revealed plenty to the three mechs at the table.

"And how do I know you are telling the truth?" she asked in an even voice. "What if you are simply trying to gain my trust to make this invasion legitimate, while you create yet another military dictatorship to control the people of Burma and force your will upon them? You obviously have the power to do so, Optimus Prime. Usually people do not decide to invade a country and depose its government on a whim, though I have no idea about how aliens operate.

"And as to young Ma-le here being married to your warriors," she continued, her eyes flashing, "I have serious questions about that. She seems to believe that you are all gods, swamx as the hill tribes call them. And it does not appear that any of you have attempted to dissuade her of that fact. What exactly does she mean about your needing life-energy, myi, from humans? Because from where I sit, it appears that you just invaded a nation where you will have access to many who are desperate enough to do anything to save themselves and improve their lot in life."

"I have tried," Ratchet spoke up. "It's not a comfortable term to many of us, for all that in a linguistic sense, it is not inaccurate as I have been reminded repeatedly by certain mechs."

"We have no desire to rule over others, or take advantage of them, Mya Myiang. In the end, the decision to trust me or not is one you will have to weigh for yourself," Prime spoke gravely. "The most I can offer is to show you my mind and spark and allow you to judge by what you see there."

Mya Myiang turned suddenly toward Will. "You are United States military, yes? On my briefing on the way here, I was told that these Autobots are allied with the US, Russia, Great Britain and even China at this point to protect against an invasion from another faction of their own kind. I was told this trust began with _you_. Why did you choose to trust them?"

"I was," he nodded. "Now I'm NEST and a citizen of the legally recognized Cybertronian nation. I trusted them on gut instinct at first. My entire adult life has been spent making snap judgments on what is a trap, who to trust, who to shoot. I made those judgments about individuals, not fractions or armies. When I sorted out who was what, those I felt good about having at my back all ended up on the same side, the Autobots. That trust has never been misplaced."

"How do you feel about their invasion of my nation?" she asked point blank.

"I don't like it," he responded honestly. "I can see how it happened given who's involved, but it's not right on any level. I also know Prime well enough to know he's going to do everything he can to make it right. He's going to be one of those helping rebuild your nation with his own hands, if you accept the reparations proposal."

The steel-eyed woman turned back toward Optimus Prime. "You offered to show me, to prove to me that I can trust you. How would this be done?"

"There is a cable witch will allow you access to my processors. Normally, it would be a two-way connection, however it does not need to be," Prime explained. "It would connect itself to your neck while you have access to see the thoughts in my mind and the emotions of my spark. It would disconnect when you have examined what you wish."

"Would I need to have one of those things installed in my neck?" she asked, nodding toward the socket clearly visible on Will.

"No," Ratchet spoke up. "Those are intended only for those who wish to have them long-term. It's possible to remove them, but it is a difficult procedure. This would just be a cable that temporarily gives you access to a mech's processors. It will leave nothing afterwards."

Mya Myiang nodded in understanding, and then turned toward Ma-le and her father.

"You are citizens of our nation. I would like your opinions on what has happened there. They came at your request."

Ma-le looked toward her father. He gave a seated bow to the leader and spoke in a respectful, gentle tone. "Venerated leader, I have complete trust in these beings, these swamx. The same one who apparently is at fault for the devastation caused by their warriors also rescued my daughter from a sex trafficker by purchasing her freedom. After he did so, he brought her to our village, and gave her the choice to stay, to come with him, or go anywhere she wished. He paid the highest bride price in the history of our tribe. Then, when the soldiers took my other daughters and the other young people from the village, he sent warriors to save them, who arrived fast enough to prevent most of the girls from being seriously hurt.

"Then," he continued, becoming more animated, "their healer shaman was able to remove any physical sign or injury of the violation from my youngest daughter and those like her, and also did a spell that caused her to forget that it had ever happened. These are good, honorable beings. The actions they took will ensure that you will be able to finally take the position we elected you for so long ago, without any fear of reprisal from the military. While I mourn the deaths of those who had no choice to serve in the army, it will be made it right. They will help the soldier's families just like they have helped mine. Our nation now has the strongest ally on the entire planet, offering to help us, protect us, and live among us while we learn to live as free people."

She nodded slightly and focused on Ma-le. "Explain why you call them swamx. Why you believe them gods."

Ma-le looked down, her posture submissive. "I knew as soon as Kuhn Jazz revealed to me his true form and explained how they needed our myi. They give pleasure in order to receive that offering, just as swamx do, and instead of it shortening our lives as we assumed, it extends it. Certainly, I did not expect the swamx to come from a different world, to be made of metal and shapechange into vehicles, but I _know_ that is who they are. Our shaman consulted with the spirits, and revealed much about them to my mother, sisters and I. My husbands are as vain and in need of attention as any of the gods, and they are twins, just like the creators of my people."

Mya Myiang raised an eyebrow slightly.

"It is a true symbiotic relationship," Ratchet spoke up. "Creating pleasure in our socket strengthens our spark, our life-force, allowing us to live longer. In exchange we give greatly extended life to our socket through a combination of technology, protection and quantum resonance."

Mya Miang took several moments, obviously considering all that she had heard. "I cannot deal with what should have been. Only what is. You have freed my nation from brutal oppression. You clearly have the power to do anything you wish with us. If I connect with you in the way you have spoken of, you could take control of me like you have control of my brother. Perhaps you control all of the humans that are here. But my gut says to trust you, because you wouldn't go through all the trouble of trying to explain all of this to me if you simply intended to take over my mind and rule my nation through me. I would like to see whatever it is you would show me, Optimus Prime."

She stood, indicating her intention to go with him.

"Thank you, Prime Minister," Prime inclined his head to her and offered his hand. "The supplies are in medbay."

Mya Myiang looked utterly calm and unreadable as she approached and climbed onto the giant hand, though the mechs at the table could read her spike in fear hormones and heart rate, and just how carefully she concealed her normal fear response from any external notice.

Prime moved even more carefully that he normally did, curling his fingers upwards to give her something to hold onto and a sense of protection from the long fall. "Ma-le, Akha. Feel free to explore the base further, spend time catching up, or with Mvkang and Arun Shwe."

The two Lisu bowed in respect, and exited the conference room in quiet conversation.

"He is an excellent elder," Mya Myiang noted, watching Akha and his daughter as they left. "And has always been a solid worker in the resistance. Far more of our ethnic minorities in that part of the country would have died without his network, and his son was highly respected, and planned to be a politician representing his people once the Junta fell. I am so sorry to hear of his loss, even if I had never actually met him, only heard of him through my contacts."

"I have also been impressed by his actions, both historical and since this disaster began," Prime agreed, walking more slowly than usual to allow her a calm view as they moved. "It is a rare thing for one to be willing to take in the very people who have hurt you, or even refugees who have no home."

"Very unusual, but will be necessary if we are to recover. There are many who harmed others who had very little choice in the matter. Without reconciliation, our nation will have no future."

The Burmese leader looked up at the proud face far above hers. "I'm afraid this whole...relationship you and your people have with the humans here is difficult for me to understand, but Akha's daughter seems very happy with her life, and certainly is much better off than the people of the hill tribe villages. It troubles me that she was essentially bought for your warriors, both from a sex trader and then again from her father, but she clearly has no objection to it. Hill Tribe culture is very alien to me, but I was educated in the west," her eyes had a curious light to them as she waited his response.

"The aspect of purchasing her is something that troubles me a great deal as well. Before I agreed to it, we did study her culture in some detail. A bride price is required in their culture. It is shameful for them if we had attempted to court her our way. It grates my core coding that it is so difficult to perceive this as her free choice, but I have experienced enough cultures to know when not to argue with it. She is happy, she is well suited to her mechs, they have taken to her strongly, and in time, she will have the same education as all our sockets. If she becomes unhappy with them, she will always have the choice to leave without repercussions to her family or herself beyond what her culture taught her."

"So, what can I expect from this connection?" She asked as the medbay door slid open to Prime's long strides, which took them swiftly across base. She quickly took in the alien looking equipment on the walls and hanging from the ceiling, and the far more familiar, but giant sized examination tables.

"Since it is a one-way connection, you will feel a tingle on your neck as the cable attaches itself. Then you will become aware of a second presence, mine, that is accessible to you. Navigation through my systems should be similar to searching your own memories or thinking about a problem, but directed at me. Once you accept the connection, we will be able to speak over the connection," Prime explained and sat on one of the berths. "You will be fully aware of and in control of your body the entire time."

Ratchet entered a complicated code into a secure cabinet, and pulled out an interface cable designed for field agents who might need to share with an organic who had no socket. He held it up for Mya Myiang to see.

"This end will connect to a port on Prime's shoulder. The other end has thousands of nanofilaments that will painlessly enter your spinal cord at the base of your neck and extend into your brain. They will cause you no discomfort or damage. Normally, when an organic connects to a mech, they connect the cable themselves as a sign of consent. However, in this case, I will need to do so. However, I do need your verbal consent recorded before I proceed," Ratchet explained in the gentle voice he was prone to use with organics until they had been around long enough to irritate him with their stupidity.

"I give my consent for Optimus Prime to connect with me through this cable," she stated, her voice completely calm even as her vitals and stress hormones spiked again.

Ratchet nodded. "Lay back," he directed at Prime, who complied and set Mya Myiang on his chest. The connection happened just as they both had described. A fine tingle, and then she was aware of the immense power, intelligence and emotion of another just outside her sense of self.

"Can you feel him?" Ratchet asked.

"Yes," she whispered shakily. "Astounding." She closed her eyes, focusing on what she felt. Her sense of self seemed to float for a moment, and then was within that other. The power in his thoughts, the sense of incredible wisdom and age was breathtaking. She felt as though she could float in the sea of calm patience forever and never feel enough of it. In the midst of it, she also felt immense grief, a sense of personal mourning and responsibility for every human who had died in the actions that had taken place in her homeland, and bottomless determination to do everything in his power to help them rebuild and continue to be free to make their own choices.

Tightly interwoven with that grief was the loss of what he had been created and sparked to be, the spiritual leader of his race. Then a dim grasp of just how much war had cost his own people and so many other worlds he had tried, and failed, to defend.

~What do you wish to know?~ Prime's voice reached out to her, offering her anything he could.

She was almost tempted to say nothing, that it was enough to simply _be_ in his mind. She, too, had deep grief for not being able to lead the people who had elected her, for fleeing to exile rather than suffering with them, and shame that the Autobot intervention had changed in a day what the movement of non-violent resistance she had founded had not been able to accomplish in three decades.

~Will you show me what it is that you wish to have from my nation?~ she finally asked. ~I'm cynical enough to think that your decision to intervene there was not purely based on the desire to rescue the members of one small village. You must want something from us.~

~I have hopes, yes.~ He said without hesitation. ~We do not wish to remain hidden forever from the humans of this world.~

With those words came his 'dream', what he thought of as the perfect result. A place for some of his people to live. The restoration of their wild lands. A democratic rule that took the needs of all of her people seriously. Centered on it all, though, was what he wanted the most: to prove he was worthy of her good word when she introduced them to the world at large as a helpful force rather than a destructive one.

~My offer of reparations does not hinge on your agreement to speak well of us. That is to right a wrong.~ His mental voice even more powerful than the one he spoke with aloud.

~I believe you, and will give you an opportunity to show in actions what you so clearly show me in your mind,~ she replied, her tone filled with the awe she felt at being in his fathomless mind.

~Thank you,~ Prime included his honest gratitude for the chance after such a difficult beginning.

~I don't want this to end,~ she admitted, sounding suddenly every bit the vulnerable woman who had been either imprisoned or fighting in exile for so much of her adult life.

~You may ask to connect again, if you so choose,~ Prime offered. ~May I show you anything else?~

She paused, considering the final questions she had yet to ask before she asked the one that was of her greatest personal interest.

~It feels almost foolish to ask at this point, having experienced what is _in_ you, but what exactly do you have in mind for reparations? I already can tell you intend to be far more generous than any invading human power would ever consider.~

Without hesitation, she _felt_ the details appear in her mind even as he spoke in more general terms. ~Prowl suggested offering the families of every soldier we killed the annual income lost, for the lifetime of the spouse or until the children are grown, whichever comes later. We will rebuild what we destroyed, both in equipment and infrastructure, as well as assist in rebuilding any village that suffered during the war that wishes our aid. Both the monetary and labor will be provided by the mechs directly responsible. Myself, Prowl, Jazz, Silver Shadow, Starjumper, Sunstreaker, Sideswipe and Killblade.~ He included a visual and basic understanding of their roles with each designation.

~It is _so_ much. Very generous, and will go a long way in soothing anger. It is far more than they would have received in military pensions, if they received anything at all. Only officers in the Junta's good graces received any sort of pension. We will just need to take care that the generosity does not foster resentment from others. The last thing Burma needs is to become some sort of welfare state dependent on the goodness of others. Though, I'm sure you know this.~

Prime could sense she wanted to ask more, and her mixture of extreme curiosity and anxiety in asking.

~You never did answer my question the myi sharing as Ma-le calls it, and the fact that you now have a nation of humans who will be in your debt and who come from desperate circumstances, just like Ma-le and her family.~

~In the most simple terms, our life-energy can be strengthened by feeding on the energies created by the emotions and sensations of sentient beings,~ Prime began, a bit unsure how much detail she actually wanted but free with his feelings of how important, how revered, sockets were. ~Most do this through sexual pleasure; it is not the only way, merely the easiest and most enjoyable for most. For those who choose and are chosen, we offer all the advantages of our technology. By a gift from Primus, those who marry receive a greatly extended lifespan, far beyond what mere technology can provide.~

~Do you really see it as marriage?~ she asked curiously, her physiological responses showing her keen interest in what he was describing. ~I thought that was simply how Ma-le interpreted it.~

~It is far more binding than marriage,~ he explained. ~It is not a legal act so much as a physical and spiritual one. We call it claiming, **claiming,"** he offered the original term with all its subtleties and complex translation. ~It changes the organic's natural energy to resonate with their mech. The nanites we use cause intense pain, even damage, to any mech that would try to use a socket against their will,~ he included basic details on all the protections given to a socket, both claimed and unclaimed. ~In exchange for willingly binding themselves to a mech, that mech is expected to take very good care of their organic, beyond what technology and Primus grants. Even those who are poorly socialized, such as Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, are extremely indulgent. A socket's happiness is extremely important to us. The happier and greater their pleasure, the more we receive from them in return.~

Mya Myiang was certain there was no way Prime could have failed to noticed her spike in desire and arousal simply being connected with the power and patience of his mind, how intensely she wished to _feel_ for herself what he and Ma-le had described to her, along with her concern and worry that it would not be appropriate to have such a desire, much less to suggest it.

~I am willing, if you wish,~ he said simply, even as a deep part of him twisted in memory-pain of loss. ~Our society is not one that is particularly restrained when it comes to sharing pleasure, be it between a mech and organic or mechs.~

~If your people will be living among us, helping us to rebuild, it would be good for me to understand this,~ she rationalized her desire. ~But I do not wish to cause you grief,~ she added.

She felt him smile in both thanks and humor. ~Functioning causes me grief. This grief also contains joy. It would be good for you to understand us and our motivations as much as possible,~ he assured her before speaking out loud, translating for her on reflex. **"Ratchet, a two way cable. She wishes to share, to understand that aspect."**

Ratchet gave a small, knowing smile, then briefly disconnected the end that was attached to Optimus, leaving her's intact. She sat up, the shock of emptiness left her feeling as though her senses were surrounded with cotton, like she could not feel the world as clearly as she should. Her hand went to her neck to feel where the cable had sunk into her skin as painlessly as if it were a part of her own body.

Ratchet made the needed changes to the cable and then plugged it back into the port on Prime's shoulder. Just as suddenly as he'd disappeared from her mind, Prime was back. Only now she could feel very clearly how one-sided the original connection was. That strength suddenly brushed against her, rather than her touching him.

~There are many ways we have to give pleasure,~ Prime told her. ~The least invasive to you, at least as I understand it, is direct neural stimulation,~ he said with a very gentle brush of pleasure directly to her mind.

Mya Myiang felt as though fingers were brushing lightly over her body, sending tingles of pleasure to her groin, just above her heart, sweeping across her breasts and in the nape of her neck. Reflexively, she arched her back, her fingers and toes splaying and then contracting with the luscious brushes of pleasure from the fathomless power that was Optimus Prime.

~That feels sinfully good,~ she admitted with an delighted mental laugh. ~No wonder you have a Hill Tribe girl thinking you all are gods. You said that is just one way that you give pleasure?~

~Yes,~ he gave another mental touch and opened up the pathways so she could see and experience what her responses did for his chassis and his spark. ~We have many small cables that can stimulate you physically,~ he offered the information and a few examples with the human's identity carefully blurred and concealed. ~One of our most brilliant inventors also created an interface array that allows us to come very close to mimicking your natural method of sex,~ he added both his schematic-based thought of the addition and more carefully-blurred examples of them in use with humans.

~That is...very creative,~ she gave a slightly uncomfortable laugh at the images, but was tremendously aroused by them nonetheless. ~Do all sensations and feelings feed your spark, or just pleasurable ones?~ her keen mind asked even as her body shivered, asking for more from the powerful being connected to her.

~While all will,~ he admitted with a huge rush of _guilt-agony-grief-loss_ in the background he shielded her from the majority of. ~All Autobots, most Neutrals and many Decepticons have core-kernel software installed that inhibits or punishes charging by means the organic doesn't enjoy.~

~How do you expect other humans will react to this aspect of your kind, when knowledge of you becomes public?~ she asked, her hand stroking his armor without realizing she was doing so.

~From what we have gathered, the majority will likely shrug and not care. Of those who are vocal, the majority will have difficulties with it, while a minority will seek us out,~ he didn't control the low vibration of a moan at her touch and sent another wave of pleasure into her, a bit stronger than before.

~Oh!~ she gave a surprised gasp as the stronger pulse ran through her body, her nerves continuing to throb with the after affects.

~You'd better not tell them just how good it is, or you will have more seeking you out than you probably want,~ she purred, her professional demeanor finally completely slipping as she gave way to her intense curiosity and desire for this amazing being who had overnight become her greatest ally.

~That is not a bad thing.~ He sighed at the feedback to his spark and made an effort to show her, let her _feel_, what her pleasure did to him. ~It is always better to have more who want to join us than who want to be rid of us.~

Prime felt her iron will to keep this purely 'non-invasive' slipping quickly with each pulse of pleasure, and was careful to not push, but let her feel that whatever she desired was _good_ and _right_ with him, but that he would never push an organic, unless pushing is what he or she desired.

~I was worried about you controlling my mind. I didn't realize what I should be concerned about is becoming addicted. Show me how you _really_ like to do this, Optimus Prime. Show me what you enjoy the most. If that is 'neural stimulation', that is fine, but I do not want you to hold back.~

An image swirled up unbidden, displayed before he even thought of stopping it. She was on her back, lightly held in place as the giant loomed over her and pleasured her most intimate parts with his mouth.

Her response was electric. ~Pleaseyesnow,~ were the only coherent words she could manage as somehow his own desire just happened to be the one that she fantasized about the most. Strong, powerful men, warlords and generals holding her in place to pleasure her before they took their own pleasure on her.

Shame bubbled up quickly in her, to have her ally, a powerful alien, millions of years old, suddenly know her deepest secret and how desperate to be conquered even a powerful voice for freedom could be.

~There is no shame in this,~ Prime insisted gently as he lifted her, the whirl of his parts barely noticeable as he placed her gently at the head of the berth on her back. ~There is no shame in desire if it brings both pleasure.~

Cables snaked out from his wrists and fingers to undress her, caressing her the entire time.

~Even as a modern, educated Burmese woman, I was taught that my role was to pleasure others and not selfishly desire it for myself,~ she admitted, his combination of soothing, gentle assurance and barely contained desire doing as much to expose her as her lack of clothing. She arched into his touch, her eyes locked on the bottomless pools of wisdom in his glowing blue optics.

Mya Myiang spread her legs and her thoughts wide in desperate need for him to know the depths of both. ~I can't seem to help wanting to hide nothing from you, to be completely known down to the most shameful, selfish thoughts. I am not as noble as my nation thinks I am, Optimus Prime.~

~There is nothing ignoble in accepting that you are _human_, with human desires,~ he insisted as a tongue-like piece of metal slid from between his lips to gently swirl around her breasts. ~There is nothing wrong with desiring pleasure, to be valued as a woman and lover,~ his body shuddered faintly at the burst of pleasure hit his spark. ~Among my own I am considered our god given form, a direct link to Primus. Yet for all that, they expect me to have desires and know them, even when I have denied it.~

She arched her back and moaned as he slid his hand underneath her, his fingers wrapping around to cup her both in gentle restraint and as a shield. Her entire body was smaller than the head looming over her. The portion of his smooth silver tongue (the word 'glossa' slipped into her mind) that extended from his lips was easily as long as her own torso, yet seemed to become thinner or wider depending on what he was caressing at the time. She swore it somehow made her tingle as though a gentle electric current ran from it straight through her body.

~Can you see, feel, how your pleasure makes me feel?~ Prime asked, his entire focus on her and causing her pleasure.

~It is the most beautiful thing I've ever felt. Both in my own body but also in what it is doing to you, to the light inside of you. I almost wish I didn't know ... how can I ever stop wanting this?~ tears were beginning to run down her face even as she moaned and called out her pleasure. It was just so pure, so beautiful, pleasure with no confusion, no shame, just a wise, ancient being acting out her deepest desires on her flesh and within her mind and soul.

~If you find a human you love, you will not miss this,~ he smiled and continued to caress her. ~It would be politically unwise for us to be lovers until the situation is stable.~

~I know how to wait patiently for what I desire, but no human lover could match what you can do. Do you have _any_ idea the power you have over me right now. I would say yes to anything just to have this not stop.~

His glossa slid down her body to where she wanted him the most, and in gentle, circling motions pealed her labia open to taste what was inside of her. She began rubbing her clit against the smooth, tingling surface.

~Which is exactly why I will never ask anything of you while sharing except that you enjoy,~ he caressed her mind gently. ~Relax, allow me to show you why we make good husbands.~

She threw her head back and did just as he suggested, focusing only on the slide of his thick glossa into her body, how the tip of it pressed deeply into the sensitive spot on the top and then continued its smooth journey all the way back to her cervix. He filled her as perfectly and completely as she had ever been filled, sending tingles to her g-spot before sliding out again, the tip circling around and tingling her clit before repeating the same sensuous slide again. All the while he made certain she felt the life energy of her pleasure flowing into his spark that, though well fed, soaked it up with a sensation of indescribably potent alien pleasure.

It was giving and receiving on the most potent level, she vaguely thought as a climax that was as much emotional as physical swept her away to become one with the ancient beings own ocean-deep release.

* * *

Mya Myiang stirred, realizing with a start that her orgasm had actually caused her to pass out. She became aware of her surroundings, finding herself still held in Optimus Prime's cupped hand, the cable still attached to her neck and the powerful and patient presence still at the edge of her mind. A thought that was not her own came to her that he was monitoring her to make sure she was emotionally and physically undamaged after the intense experience.

~Well, I will never question Ma-le about this again. Even I'd be tempted to think of you as a god after that,~ she opened her eyes and smiled at the optics that were regarding her from the giant face right above her body. All of the stern, steel willed outer demeanor was gone from her face, leaving a lovely middle-aged Burmese woman whose eyes were lit with keen intelligence and humor.

~You flatter me greatly, Mya Myiang,~ Prime's own humor shown through with the connection. ~Do not give up on the pleasures of your own kind, though. Not for me.~

~I rarely have much time for the pleasures of my own kind. I've been far too busy simply trying to keep hope alive, for myself and my people, and the years in prison before my exile did little to help with that fact,~ she said in a matter of fact tone with little regret. ~So, let's talk about what happens when I return to Burma, if you have no issues discussing policy with a naked woman in your hand.~

~None,~ he grinned, his thoughts full of good humor, hope and delight that she could put her mind back to business so easily. ~Please begin with what you would like to have happen, and how.~

~My brother will be key. If he can be convinced to say that he became a part of the junta in order to pave the way for its downfall, to reinstate the rightfully elected leader, it will be believed by the masses, and likely the international community. I will insist that I am simply an interim Prime Minister until properly monitored democratic elections can occur.~

Prime could feel the strategic, calculating mind at work, finding ways to make the outcome the best for herself, her people, and, he was pleased to sense, himself.

~I doubt that will be an issue, thanks to what my operatives did. He will comply with anything you ask of him,~ he said, his mixed feelings on it shining through. It was effective, but it troubled him to his core. So many of his deepest values had been sacrificed to the altar of war.

~I'm not pleased with it either,~ she agreed, ~but it will alleviate so many other issues down the road. Not to mention that otherwise he would be dead or standing trial for crimes against humanity. I think the best course of action is to indicate that I was not aware of his plans, nor did I approve of the violence his overthrow entailed, that I am accepting the position only in order to transition Burma to a truly free and democratic state. What I am trying to figure out is how to explain your presence in a manner that will be acceptable to the international community and my own people.~

~I would like to use as much truth as possible,~ Prime began. ~It would be fairly believable that we were already in talks about a peaceful overthrow. We do share similar beliefs, even though I have had to put many of mine aside over the war.~

She could all but watch the powerful mind run scenarios at so many times her speed that his thoughts were a blur, only a snippet here and there coming across until he'd come up with a plan.

~Perhaps word reached us of the coup, and you requested our intervention when we learned that the regular officers were killing the conscripted soldiers so they could not join the revolt? You asked for us to try and stop it. I sent several warriors and medics to assist those in need. It became far more violent than we wished, though in the end it worked.~

~I agree. All of that sounds feasible and believable. I'm assuming that you have the ability to make sure our story matches the facts that will be found on the ground when international observers and the press arrive?~ She asked, considering the few survivors of the destruction of Burma's major military bases.

~We do. We will finalize the details of the story to match as much of what really happened as possible, then fix the rest to match. My First Lieutenant is disturbingly good at it.~

~I can only imagine,~ she said with a smirk, the memory of what the aliens were capable of making her feel simply with the power of their minds still imprinted on her sated flesh. ~I think we ought to play up your rescue of the children from Tiger Village as part our introducing you to the world. It will be good PR. Some westerner is sure to want to make a documentary about your involvement with the village, Ma-le, and the intervention. I suggest you decide now who you want to sell those rights to so it is spun the way you wish.~

~We began investigating that as soon as I decided we would stay,~ Prime laughed easily. ~Your world's fascination with giant robots and high-tech is well-established in the media. I very much agree with showcasing the Tiger Village. Their ties will be useful, as will the story of how Ma-le came to us.~

~Well, you obviously have a good handle on Earth politics. What is your time line for going public? If I do not arrive and quell the anxiety soon, there will likely be riots, and at this moment, I'm completely MIA.~ Mya Myiang rolled over on his hand so she could rest her chin on her hands. ~I'm sure there are several other international leaders who wanted to be the ones to introduce you to shore up their own power and influence. Are you planning on letting them know ahead of time?~ she added as she considered the timing.

~I would like it to be soon, though not before you have the situation well in hand,~ Prime said thoughtfully. ~To date, no other leaders have approached me about going public; they have all wanted us to remain invisible to avoid the religious-political issues involved in having aliens around. I can understand their concerns. I was not partial to moving this quickly, but I will not loose an opportunity when presented.~

~They wanted you invisible so they could try to get you under _their_ control before you went public,~ she guessed. ~Choosing a nation like Burma as a place for a more extensive base is shrewd. It is altruistic toward a suffering nation, but doesn't put you in the debt of those who would try to take advantage. See, I'm a cynic at heart, but a hopeful one.~ She kicked her legs flirtatiously and winked at him, hoping, outrageously, that this would not be the last time she had the opportunity to discuss strategy while naked on his hand, but practical enough to know how badly it could affect their reputations until her position, and that of the Autobots was secure.

~We have that in common as well,~ Prime smiled softly. ~Even if many would disagree. I still remember the orn when 'idealist' became an insult crafted specifically towards me. I fear that many of my kind have a painfully skewed perspective of 'normal' and even morals. Perhaps you will be able to teach a few of my youngest what peace means.~

~Now you are flattering me, but I will help if I can. How long will it take your lieutenant to firm up the story and make the facts on the ground match? I'd like to return as soon as possible ... or ... almost as soon as possible,~ she smirked, wondering if she could talk him in to one more round for the road. She was not a woman who took the opportunity to indulge herself very often.

~I expect he will be finished before dawn in Naypyidaw,~ Prime rumbled, eager to indulge them both once more. ~We have several hours to ... indulge.~

~Do you always make new allies like this, Optimus Prime?~ she purred, her gently lined face lighting up with her pleased smile.

~Regretfully no,~ he shivered faintly in anticipation of pleasuring her again. ~Though I hope it will happen more often in the future.~


	66. Electric Blades 5: A Medic's Socket

**Fandom**: Transformers Bayverse  
**Author**: gatekat and femme4jack on LJ  
**Pairing**: Jolt/Killblade  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Codes**: Slash, Het, Xeno  
**Summary**: Jolt has his optics on one of the girls they rescued as a socket.  
**Notes**: Written in the Dathanna de Gray fanverse (community .livejournal .com/ tf_socket_fics)  
**"text"** Cybertronian speech  
"text" organic languages  
~text~ cable or bond talk  
::text:: comm chatter

**Lahu Lexicon**  
Lahu: A hill tribe who are closely related to the Lisu. The name they are called by others means Tiger Hunters. However, they always refer to themselves as 'People of Blessing'  
G'ui sha: the creator god of the Lahu  
Kwi-pa: Blue Bird

* * *

****

Electric Blades 5: A Medic's Socket

* * *

A dark haired, exhausted-looking girl sat on the floor in the corner of a large army issue tent, pondering the conversation she'd just finished. Ma-le, the girl who had spoken to her was very convincing about what a marriage could mean with the gods who had saved her and so many others from the unit of the Burmese army who'd had her for far too long. She rubbed her large, rounded belly in an unconscious gesture. There was no choice. Not really. She had no village to return to, her family was dead and she was going to have her baby soon. If she accepted the invitation from Ma-le's father to stay, she still had no prospects for marriage. No one was going to marry a girl who had been used by the army for two years and had a child on the way. Whatever else happened, she needed to make sure _this_ one did not get taken away from her.

She rubbed her face and shifted to try to make herself more comfortable. At least she would be safe. If these gods would let her keep her child and she didn't have to march with them for days on end, they could use her however they wished. It wasn't as though she wasn't used to it.

"Hello, Kwi-pa," the resonate, not-quite-human voice drew her eyes up to tent entrance where the bright blue god was looking in. He was the smallest of the four she'd seen, though still a giant. He completely filled the space as he entered and settled down on his side, curling around so they were as close to eye level as he could manage without touching her. "Ma-le told me you agreeable to the idea of marrying me."

Kwi-pa felt a wave of relief hit her. She had already met this particular metal god. He had given her medical care after they had arrived in the village, and had been kind and gentle with her. He had even used his magic to examine that baby and had found that her extended time with the army had not harmed it, also noting that she would likely give birth within a couple of weeks.

"It is not my place to agree or disagree," she stated, looking to the ground. "But since I have no father to negotiate a bride price with, if you will allow me to keep my child and to give it enough food, I will care for your home and serve you. The commander of the unit that captured me told me I was to serve as his wife, and I kept his tent and his quarters very clean and served him when he wished."

Jolt nodded his understanding. Though he wasn't pleased with the arrangement, but he couldn't think of a better way to have the time to help her, not with the culture and situation she was coming from. While Jazz's advice would be put to good use, this human had been abused last only days ago, while Ma-le had nearly five years to recover.

"You will keep your daughter, and I will ensure you are both well-fed, cared for and have a good education," he promised. "I have a mate of my own kind I intend to bond with soon, so you know. Did Ma-le explain why we take human wives?"

"She explained about your need for myi, and that you could get what you needed from a human wife. She explained about pleasure." The girl spoke in a matter of fact tone, and it was clear that Kwi-pa did not believe it could possibly be pleasurable for her. Her face had lit up at the mention of a daughter, but other than that, she seemed to keep her emotions very close.

"We can only feed on myi from the pleasure of a willing wife," he said gently. "I know how to make you feel very good, but only if you want it to be. I know it is difficult to believe after the last two years, but it is true."

She looked up at his response, searching his blue optics as her dark eyes finally revealed where she hid her emotions. "It is very hard to believe, but I will try my best to please you. It is a blessing from G'ui sha that you came to help us, and I am grateful. I will try very hard to be a good wife to you."

"You will have time to adjust," Jolt promised with a gentle smile. "For the next couple months, your focus should be on caring for yourself and your daughter. I understand from Ma-le that adapting to Diego Garcia, my current home, takes some time. She will help you adapt to our ways."

His gentle tone seemed to finally break some of her shell. She gave him a small smile. "I am very glad she will be there. May I please ask you a question, Kuhn..." she blushed, realizing she did not know his name. He might have told her when she was in the medical tent, but she had been in a daze.

"Jolt," he said with a smile that was warm and encouraging. "Please ask."

"There a many girls who are unspoiled, who don't have babies, who would desire to be the wife to a swamx, to have the privileges and help for their families Ma-le speaks of. Why would you pick me?" Kwi-pa looked down at the ground again, her hand absently rubbing her belly.

"Because you and your daughter have little chance of a good life otherwise," he reached out to touch her cheek lightly with one clawed finger. "I'm also a healer. It's natural for me to be drawn to those who are hurting and want to help. Those I asked Ma-le to speak to were those most in need."

She flinched at first at his touch, but then her eyes met his optics, saw the gentle smile, and she raised a shaking hand to feel the hard metal claw on her cheek. She furrowed her brow briefly, wondering how it would be possible for sharp metal could give pleasure when it was so obviously built for pain, but there was also open relief and gratitude in her eyes. "I had given up all hope, the closer my time came. Now suddenly I am a person of blessing again. Thank you, Kuhn Jolt."

His features lit up in pleasure at her words, his optics literally, and a pleasant thrum emanated from his chest. "You are welcome, Kwi-pa. I have much more work to do before we return home, but it will be before you give birth." He paused, considering her. "My teacher is likely to expect I assist in delivering your daughter, but if it makes you uncomfortable to have a male there we'll have a female attend you."

Her smile grew at his reaction. It felt good to please someone out of gratitude rather than fear. "You have already examined my body, Kuhn Jolt, and I know what you did for the girls who had not been with the army as long as I was. I would like for you to help. I have very little sense of modesty left. Ma-le also explained to me that the swamx are both male and female at once."

"Yes, we are," his smile widened at her acceptance and he stroked her cheek lightly, letting her feel the warmth of his frame. "It will be my pleasure to assist in the birth. It will feel good to help bring life instead of healing wounds, or causing them. Do you have any hopes for your daughter's talents?"

She wasn't prepared for the feelings his question would unleash in her. She had been very careful to hide her tears, to force herself not to cry when she had been with the army. The commander and the others had no tolerance for it, and had even killed a girl for crying inconsolably after they had raped her. But his question...

She struggled to get out her words as she sobbed. "I ... my only hope has ever been that she would live ... that I would not die giving birth ... and perhaps could escape with her before they took her away to kill or sell like they did my first one."

Reflex moved him before he thought about it and he cupped his hands around her, shifting forward so he could snuggle and shield her against his chassis, just above his spark as he would a sparkling, as he remembered his creators doing when he was young.

He felt her reflexively tense up, but then relax in his hands, continuing to shake with heaving sobs, finding it impossible to stop now that she finally felt safe enough to feel again.

"Crying is good," he murmured, his voice carefully modulated to sooth her as he stroked her back with one finger. "Your hopes will come true. You have escaped. You will not die. She will grow up strong and healthy. Do you know who your first was sold to?"

Without his advanced processors, it would have been difficult to even understand the words she tried to speak between sobs. "I don't know. I hardly even got to see the child before they took it away. I didn't even see if it was a boy or a girl, but I always thought it was a boy. I don't know if they sold him, left him on the road, or killed him. The commander told me not to ask or he would kill me."

"I'm sorry," he murmured, still stroking her back to comfort her. "If he's alive, we're going to find him. Do you remember how long ago he was born, or where you were?" he asked. He had a fairly good idea of the when, and no doubt that they could find out the where, but the more he could let her help in the recovery of her own offspring the better it would be.

Kwi-pa pulled herself together so she could answer his question, leaning into his touch like someone starved, his large yet gentle hands representing comfort and safety. She had watched one of the other swamx cut the one who had hurt her the most in half with his blade. So long as they were as kind as he said they would be, she would be safe with them.

"He was born 230 days after I was captured. I kept track of the days. I was captured 8 days after the festival of eating new rice. We were somewhere in the Shan state near the border of Laos."

"We will look," he promised softly even as he winced inside. The odds that a baby that premature had survived without a hospital was low at best. Backtracking the dates more, he cross-referenced the information he could now access on the unit's movements and place it within a dozen miles of a center point. As soon as he finished calming her, he would ask the soldiers what had happened to the newborn. Surely there had no been so many in that timeframe that they wouldn't remember.

"Thank you, Kuhn Jolt. It will give me peace to know what happened to her, regardless." While finding a child after that long seemed impossible to her, she had no doubt that these gods could do so.

"When did you eat last?" he asked gently, changing the subject.

"The western soldiers gave us a meal this morning. I am still quite full. It was far more than I usually would have in a day, and there was actually meat." Her voice was awed and hushed.

Now that Kwi-pa was no longer sobbing, she could focus on what it felt like to be held by the sharp metal god. He was surprisingly warm, and the place where he held her to his chest had a sound and vibration she found soothing. The individual plates of metal seemed to move to accommodate her shape against him so that nothing poked at her or felt uncomfortable, while his hands cupped around her as though to shield her from the world.

"You have been malnourished for some time. I understand you are not accustomed to eating much, but you really should try to eat that much four to five times a day to recover your strength," he instructed gently. "The western soldiers know this and will serve you the meals."

"Of course, Kuhn Jolt. I promise," she bowed her head in submission to his instructions. She knew better than to turn away food when it was available, but she would not dishonor him by letting him know that his command to her was unnecessary.

It was strange to have a masculine figure holding her and demanding nothing of her, and even stranger that a deadly body of metal could suddenly feel so much safer than human touch. She felt a twinge of guilt that she was simply allowing him to comfort her, when he had been caring for injured and malnourished people for the last two days.

"Is there any way I can serve you?" she asked timidly. She was inwardly terrified of what he might ask of her, but felt she owed it to him just the same. He had healed her injuries, was going to provide a safe place for her and her daughter, and wanted to help her find out what had happened to her first child. She could not let fear get in the way of her duty to him.

The words triggered desire in him, in his spark. He wanted to say yes, to _show_ her what pleasure meant, but he knew without a shred of doubt that it was the wrong time. Instead he stroked her back soothingly.

"For now, simply care for yourself and your daughter," he reiterated. "I will introduce you to my soon-to-be-mate when he returns from patrol in the morning."

The expression of relief on her face, and even more so, the tale-tell signs of relaxation in her physiological indicators confirmed the decision. As much as he longed to help her replace the pain of the last two years with pleasure, he would wait until she was ready, and proceed slowly.

* * *

**"So explain to me again why you want a socket you can't charge with, has no useful skills and will have most of her attention on her creation before we even bond? I thought you wanted a socket to help us kindle?"** Killblade tempered his question by stroking Jolt's backstrut as they walked.

**"Because she has excellent energy, which you will see when you meet her. She couldn't have survived what she did without it."** Jolt snaked an arm around the larger mech's waist and pulled himself even closer as they walked.

Killblade gave him a look that didn't need any words.

Jolt vented and gave the real explanation. **"It is what I saw in all of those girls' minds. I could help so few of them. She has been through so much pain and humiliation, and I want to give her and her child a future they certainly won't have here, to give her pleasure to forget her pain. Once she heals, her energy will be sweeter than anything we've had before."**

**"Your medic protocols are really taking over,"** Killblade murmured with a kiss to the top of his helm. **"But if it makes you happy I won't argue."**

Jolt suddenly stopped to stand in front of his lover, reaching up to pull the taller mech's face down to his level so he could kiss him soundly before breaking away and whispering in his audio unit, **"It makes me _very_ happy, and I promise you won't regret taking her home with us. She'll be a good socket, just like Ma-le. I promise."**

Killblade rumbled and pulled Jolt against him, stroking his back strut and winglets. **"How long before you think she'll be repaired in the processors?"**

Jolt melted into the affectionate and gentle touch, his optics dimming in pleasure. **"Totally repaired? Quite a while. But she will be sharing long before that. Jazz said that Ma-le was only gang-raped once, and five years later, she still had emotional trauma from it. But once she realized she was safe, and was taught how good her body could feel with one of us, she gave an amazing charge. He said once we are back, he'd give us the memory files of how he prepared her for the twins so she'd be excited and not afraid. I'm fairly sure Kwi-pa will be similar. We'll need to start slow with her, perhaps cable only, or with a holoform until she feels comfortable with more."**

**"I can do that, or leave her to only you until she's comfortable,"** he offered with another kiss to the top of Jolt's helm. **"I'm not the most gentle of mechs."**

**"You are gentle with me, unless I don't want you to be,"** Jolt wrapped his arms tight around Killblade's waist and pressed his ear to audio to his lover's chest plates. **"We can always get another who isn't as emotionally damaged if it is taking too long or we need stronger charges than she can give,"** he added. **"Can I take you to meet her now? Otherwise I'm going to end up facing you right here in the middle of the village, and I'm not quite sure this particular group of humans is ready for that yet."**

Killblade chuckled, a deep rumble of amusement and eagerness before letting go. **"Yes, let's meet your socket. Maybe we'll give her an introduction by overloading for her viewing pleasure."**

**"That sounds like a fantastic plan, though we'll need to stop if she becomes frightened. She'll have plenty of time to get used to seeing us together as lovers, and she only has been away from those who hurt her for a couple of orns."** Jolt cautioned, hoping it would not upset his intended bondmate. Organics took longer to overcome certain kinds of trauma than mechs did.

**"Frightening your socket is the last thing I want to do,"** Killblade promised as they walked again, still in close contact. **"She'll have enough to deal with when it comes to me anyway."**

The medic had asked Kwi-pa to wait for him in a large enclosure that was being used by the Cybertronians who were present. Killblade's brothers had returned to Diego Garcia with Ma-le and her father, but had been replaced by First Aid to assist with rectifying years of medical neglect among the humans. They slid open the door and entered, where Kwi-pa was resting propped among several pillows. She flinched when the door opened, but then relaxed and smiled as Jolt entered.

"Hello Kwi-pa," Jolt smiled and walked towards her, Killblade keeping a respectful distance, well aware of the effect his extra 8ft could have. "How are you feeling?"

Her face brightened as the medic spoke to her, and she awkwardly pulled her pregnant body to her feet to give him a respectful bow. "I am very well, Kuhn Jolt. I do believe I've put on weight just in these few days of eating so well. It is hard to find a comfortable position for my body, but one of the women told me that was to be expected when the time is near. I was never this large with my first," she added, a flicker of sorrow crossing her features.

It hadn't taken Jolt long to find out that her first baby had been left to die when it was obvious he would not survive long enough to be sold. He had been pleased that his socket had been so ready to let him to comfort her in her grief. She already trusted him.

"It is a good thing you are regaining your strength," he smiled and settled on his side as had become an easy habit when relaxing with her. "My mentor will rage far less if you are a healthy weight when he meets you. Are you ready to meet my intended mate?"

He was more than pleased when she easily crossed the distance between them, looking at Killblade with wide eyes, but very little fear. "Please, Kuhn Jolt."

Careful of her reaction, Jolt shifted to his pedes, kneeling to lay his hand flat on the ground next to her. "Please climb on."

She only hesitated a moment before doing so. She carefully sat with her legs tucked to the side, one arm leaning on his palm while the other cradled her belly. He carefully cupped the fingers of both hands around her and held her to his chest as he rose slowly enough not to cause her vertigo.

He turned to face Killblade and gave the warrior a thankful smile for remaining back. Even with the added height Jolt offered, Killblade was still nearly twice her height above her.

"Killblade, this is Na Kwi-pa, who I would take as a wife," Jolt spoke in a semi-formal presentation from the fragmentary memories of a potential socket being presented by one of his creators to the other.

Killblade nodded, recognizing the intent even without knowing its origins, and focused on the human. To everyone's surprise, he knelt to bring his optics close to her level while still far enough away that he didn't seem to be looming. "It makes Jolt happy to claim you, so I welcome you as his wife."

::Why do you call her a wife instead of a socket?:: Killblade asked, amused.

::It means more to her,:: Jolt smiled at him, resisting the urge to lean forward and capture that finely crafted mouth. ::Ma-le still speaks of herself as their wife.::

Kwi-pa, not even notice the silence conversation between the two, put her trembling hands together, bowed deeply, and spoke in a reverent voice. "It is an honor to meet you, Kuhn Killblade. My people call themselves a people of blessing. Your people have been a blessing to all of those you rescued. I hope you will find me pleasing and worthy to be a blessing to you and your mate."

::She spent hours figuring out what she should say to you. I overheard her practicing,:: Jolt noted proudly.

Killblade hummed, a sound that Jolt understood the full harmonics and meaning of, but even the human felt the approval in. "I'm sure you will. Did Ma-le or Jolt warn you of what I am?"

Kwi-pa looked to Jolt as though trying to understand what Killblade meant by the question.

"That he is a sparked warrior," Jolt prompted her.

She put her hands on her lap to stop them from trembling and looked at Killblade, her eyes full of awe.

"Ma-le explained that you are a warrior-god like her own husbands, but that you are not like the soldiers who ... that I would be safe with you. I know it is true because you protected us. You killed the man who hurt me the most, who was shooting as us as we tried to hide behind you, and Ma-le's husbands killed many of the others who hurt me."

The dark blue mech nodded. "I am very much like her husbands, my brothers, created for the same purpose. We're temperamental and violent by design, though it will never be directed at you," he promised. "I do not expect you to be my wife, just because you are Jolt's."

She mutely nodded her understanding, though her face went instantly red with shame. She quickly looked down at her swollen belly.

::Why is she upset? What did I say? I'm _trying_ not to scare her.:: Killblade backed away a few feet in case he was frightening her, inwardly sighing about how wearying it would be to have someone who was this frightened around their quarters.

"Kwi-pa," Jolt brought her closer to his chassis and spark, hoping to sooth her with it and gentle EM pulses. "What is wrong? He did not mean to upset you."

Her eyes darted back and forth between the two mechs, though she unconsciously relaxed against the warm hum of his chestplates. "I thought I would be for both of you, like Ma-le, but I have displeased your mate," she whispered, feeling even more ashamed saying it aloud. "Please forgive me. I don't understand why either of you would want me, shamed as I am. There must be so many other girls here with myi stronger than mine."

"What?" Killblade almost yipped, taking another half step back as he weight shifted to his back wheel. "Didn't mean that. Really. You aren't expected to serve me just because we're together. I didn't want you to think I expected you to be my wife just because you'll be his. I don't expect you to ... to ..." he struggled for a polite term for a nanoklik. "You don't need to be intimate with me, that's all."

"There is nothing to forgive," Jolt stroked her back gently. "Ma-le will teach you much of our culture, I will teach you much more. These misunderstandings are bound to happen. We know something of your ways, but not enough to never say something the wrong way."

They watched as her features moved between shame to confusion, and settled into a haunted look.

"The commander who I served as wife, would give me to a few of his officers if he was pleased with me. If I marched too slow or didn't make food he liked he'd give me to the rest of soldiers for the whole night. I'm ... I don't want to ever displease either of you," Kwi-pa tried to explain, knowing she was overreacting to her perception of disapproval, but shaking nonetheless as she was assaulted with memories that Jolt understood far better than he wished to.

"I understand," Jolt crooned, focusing on soothing her even as he cast an apologetic look at Killblade, who was having his own kind of fit with rage boiling in his lines and nothing to take it out on. It was too common a tactic, whether to break a mech or alleviate the boredom of guard duty in Decepticon holding cells, even if neither of them had personally suffered it. "We will never do anything of the like to you," he promised. "You are not a prisoner to us, Kwi-pa. Even if you do not see it as a choice, you are always free to leave me if either of us do not treat you well enough. _Our_ commander will see to that."

Kwi-pa nodded, not trusting herself to speak, just huddling in hands that felt safe, praying to her ancestors that she would not do anything to ruin the fragile safety she had finally found.

::Is she sorted out?:: Killblade asked silently, more than a touch unsettled by the idea of being partially responsible for caring for such a broken creature. This wasn't what he was built for. None of his programming or protocols covered it beyond the 'how to get one out of the combat zone and to a medic' and those weren't gentle ways.

::I think so. It will be easier to calm her down when she has a socket. I'll take care of her, Killblade. You won't have to worry about her,:: Jolt said a bit unconvincingly, well aware of how out of his league Killblade was with the damaged human.

::She's your socket, I need to worry a little bit,:: Killblade said uneasily, shifting from wheel to wheel. ::You have long shifts sometimes.::

::Once she is on base, away from everything that reminds her of what happened, it will be better, and Ma-le will help her. She is anxious to have someone from a similar background. Smokescreen can help her, too, and I'm sure I can bring her on some of my medbay shifts. Ratchet may be an aft to everyone else, but his soft spot is sockets. I'll make sure you aren't responsible for her until she is more repaired. Her sparkling will help give her something to focus on besides her memories.::

::Thank you,:: Killblade let out a very quiet vent of relief.

"Kwi-pa, are you all right?" the blue medic asked gently.

"I'm alright," Kwi-pa sat up a bit straighter. "Please forgive me for becoming so frightened. Is there anything I can do to serve you ... either of you? Ma-le told me her husbands like to be polished, especially the gold one."

"It's okay," the bladewarrior told the human, trying to be nice to her, even as a playful gleam lit his optics. "Jolt does need a good wash and polish," he rumbled playfully. "He's been working very hard lately."

They both watched as a look of relief crossed her features. "Will you teach me how he likes to be washed and polished?" Her eyes met Killblade's optics, and for the first time, he could something of the strength of will that was inside the broken human. She was almost desperate to do something to show her worth.

"I'd enjoy that," Killblade grinned, finally finding something in common with her. "I have the supplies," he shifted his gaze to Jolt. "If you transport her to the stream," his engine purred with the promise of much pleasure to come. 


	67. Frontliners 11: Challenging Thoughts

**Fandom:** Transformers Bayverse  
**Author:** gatekat and femme4jack on LJ  
**Pairing:** Chromia/Ironhide/Will Lennox/Sarah Lennox, Jazz/Prowl/Miles Landcaster  
**Rating:** R mech/femme, mech/human  
**Codes:** Het, Slash  
**Summary:** Ironhide faces the fact that he isn't processing clearly, but will it make any difference?  
**Notes:** Written in the Dathanna de Gray fanverse (community .livejournal .com/ tf_socket_fics)  
**"text"** Cybertronian speech  
"text" organic languages  
~text~ bond & cable talk  
::text:: comm chatter

**Notice: We are having a contest for our readers. For more information, see community . livejournal . com / tf_socket_fics / (remove spaces before and after periods and slashes)**

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Frontliners 11: Challenging Thoughts

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Ironhide settled on his shocks, resisting yet again his urge to transform, grab Annabelle, return her to her mother and head back out to the weapons range. He had spent very little time with the human sparkling since Chromia had arrived, not out of lack of desire, but simply because so many of the recent series of events on base had left him in a foul mood which he did not want affecting the little one. His dark thoughts were hard enough on her parents and his mate.

However, when she asked him why he didn't like her anymore, his guardian protocols kicked into high gear, and he promised to spend an entire afternoon with the tiny creature, just the two of them, doing whatever Annabelle wished as an apology for his distance. Just his luck, her chosen activity had been to decorate him with neon colored glitter paint. If he hadn't felt so guilty about spending all of his free time in the holo training room or at the range the last several decaorn, he would never have allowed her to actually go through with her chosen art project, but one look at the tiny eyes, filled with fluid as he had been preparing to head to the range for an evening of slagging, and she might as well have been holding an energon blade to his open spark chamber. He wasn't going to deny her anything.

"Why have you been so mad lately, Hidey. Did I do something bad?" the little girl asked out of the blue as she created her latest masterpiece, this time on his hood where she was lying on her tummy and using neon pink glitter paint. His sensors told him it was of two vaguely mech looking shapes with their faces together and little hearts decorating both of their frames and the area around them.

"You didn't do anything. He did," Chromia's too-amused voice answered before he could. "He's been obsessing about something very normal your parents want and not listening to reason from anyone."

Ironhide kept his growl on the quiet side so as not to frighten the little human who was grinning brightly at his mate.

"Chwomia! I decorated Hidey with pictures of both of you. You see this one?" she pointed to the large drawing on Ironhide's hood. "It is of when I walked in and you were kissing him against the wall. He is bigger than you, but you sure can push him hard."

::I will personally dismantle you if you tell anyone on base about this, femme.:: Ironhide growled on the comm.

"It helps that he prefers it when I push. Does he often let you decorate him?" Chromia asked intently, hiding a snicker ::Don't worry, my plasma. I won't _tell_ anyone.::

"Daddy, Mommy and me had a mud fight with him once, but he didn't look pretty like this, just brown. Then we gave him a bath. You mad at my mommy and daddy, Hidey? Mommy has been sad and worried about you, and Daddy has been working lots extra." Annabelle added a final heart-like-shape to her picture and looked at it critically. She opened her blue glitter paint tube and added optics.

"I am not angry at your parents, Annabelle. It is my job to keep all of you safe, and we have different ideas about how to do that, but I'm not angry with _them_," the weapons specialist explained is the most gentle voice he could manage.

"Daddy once said to Robbye that he can never win a fight with my mommy and it was best to always let her win," Annabelle commented sagely.

"That is good advice, Belle," Sarah commented, coming out from behind Chromia where she had been observing with a mixture of concern and amusement. "Ironhide looks very nice now. How about you and I go to Hang 10 for some ice cream and see if anyone else wants to be decorated today." Sarah walked up and gave Hide and affectionate pat on the hood, holding out her hands for Annabelle who collected her supplies and slid down to her mom. "I think I saw Sunstreaker heading that way. He always likes to look pretty."

"Silly mommy, even _I_ know not to put anything on Sunny's finish," the girl giggled as she waved goodbye. "Bye Cwomia, bye Hidey. Don't wash it off until daddy sees, ok?"

"I'll make sure Will see your work," Chromia promised, watching as the two humans left the house before focusing on her mate. "Now, _we_ have a conversation to have, because I'm quite tired of being in the middle of it."

With a harumph, Ironhide rolled toward the washracks. **"Talk and wash at the same time. If I transform like this, it will get everywhere and I'll end up having to make Ratchet get it out of my gears and joints. I don't think my spark could take that humiliation."**

**"I'll still show Will,"** she teased and followed with a relaxed stride, turning the water and solvent spray on. **"Why are you _really_ denying your sockets the code that most of the combat personnel have now? Even Shekat asked for the upgrade."**

**"Because I can keep them safer than any Pit-spawned programming _that_ mech can come up with,"** Ironhide growled, his frame stiff even under the relaxing pressure of the spray on his armor.

**"Red Alert is a far more competent programmer than you will ever be,"** she snorted from her vents and reached for a brush. **"What makes you think you know better than _Prime_?"**

**"Prime didn't lose his socket to Jazz. I did. With one signal, he could take what's mine from me again, just like he did before."**

Chromia couldn't miss that even Ironhide didn't sound convinced by his broken-record of arguments concerning that particular mech, arguments he had been repeating since the moment Prowl had brought the former 'Con to their base.

She vented again, this time in real annoyance than bordered on a reprimand. **"Did you even _register_ a word I said?"**

The frame she was washing stiffened even more. **"You said something about Jazz being a better programmer ... no ... you said Red Alert."** For the second time in a decaorn, Ironhide realized he had processed what he expected to hear, not what was actually said.

**"Congratulations,"** she grumbled. **"I hope you listen to battle plans better than you're listening to me. So let's take this from the top. Why are you denying your sockets something they want?"**

**"Because they don't need it and it could be misused,"** he replied stubbornly, knowing he had already lost. He never won an argument with Chromia.

**"That doesn't change the fact that they _want_ it and since Prime authorized it for general use, they don't technically need your consent,"** she challenged him. **"They're trying to get it _only_ because they care about you."**

**"They are _not_ going to get me to agree, Chromia! Especially not with Annabelle!"** Ironhide roared. **"That same programming _killed_ Symphonia, after we rescued her from the generators. One signal was all it took. Do you remember how many friends we lost on that mission, only to lose each and every socket we rescued? I don't care who is doing the slagging programming. It still could be used to kill every socket on this base who has it if the codes got into the wrong hands."**

**"Understood,"** she flicked her armor in acceptance and to signal it was the end of the conversation for her. **"I'll pass that on to Sarah."**

**"No."** Hide rumbled, transforming despite the glitter than remained and placing his hands on his mate's shoulders. **"Like you said, you are tired of being a go between, and you shouldn't have to be. They are _my_ sockets. They are not your problem."**

Chromia just grunted and worked a little more quickly to get the glitter off him. _She_ needed to slag things at this point, then spend a few recharge cycles on Long Shot.

**"Now you have me worried."** Ironhide regarded his silent mate, trying to read her mood. **"You don't back down from arguments with me. You _win_ them."**

**"I win them because I have vorns to put into them and rarely pick one when I don't have the conviction to not simply beat it into you,"** she pointed out, glaring at him as she stopped trying to clean him. **"Your sockets don't have that luxury. Sarah asked me to try and get you to see reason since they couldn't. My patience with this is done. You aren't going to see it their way because of anything _I_ say. Now they have to decide which is more important to them; feeling safe or not hurting your feelings."**

**"What do I do, Chromia?"** he asked quietly, nothing of his normal conviction in his voice, only immense weariness. **"The thing that they feel makes them safe could be what destroys them. It is my duty to keep them safe, and everything in my code says this is far more dangerous to them than the threat of capture or generators."**

Chromia calmed a bit, looking into the ancient optics of her mate. **"You figure out if it's a battle worth winning. If the war is as close to over as the officers think, you can probably delay them until they see the threat's largely over. It'll cost you, and them. So will giving in. So which price is the better one to pay?"** her armor rippled in a shrug. **"That's up to you. I made my choice when Wolfkat and Shekat asked for them. I won't ask any of my cadre to live for me if it's too much for them to contemplate."**

Ironhide shuttered his optics and pulled her close to him. **"You are stronger than I am. Stronger here,"** he placed a hand on her chestplates.

**"No, I'm less attached,"** she countered calmly. **"I don't have guardian protocols. I was designed to lead and kill, not protect and raise."**

He gave her a half smile. **"And here I was hoping you were going attempt to show me that you are stronger _everywhere_ and not just in the spark,"** he gave a seductive rev of his engine. There was _nothing_ as hot as getting thrown around by his mate (and throwing her around a bit as well).

Chromia laughed, her armor rippling in bemusement and Ironhide abruptly found himself chest down on the floor with his mate pinning him there. **"You may be slightly bigger, but I'm faster, my plasma."**

* * *

Ironhide had most of the slate blue paint streaks polished from his armor by the time he found himself in front of an office he _never_ had reason to enter. The glitter, on the other hand, seemed to persist in places regardless of what he did. Grumbling, he pinged the door, announcing his presence to the Autobot inside whom he knew was already well aware of his presence.

**"Com'in!"** came the chipper call as the door slid open. **"Hide,"** Jazz inclined his head to the large black mech.

**"Jazz,"** Ironhide responded awkwardly as he entered and stood stiffly in front of the organized chaos of the saboteur's desk. It took him a moment to notice that Jazz was not alone in the office. Miles was with him, giving Ironhide a wary look from his mech's lap, his eyes barely above the desk.

**"So, wha'cha here for?"** Jazz prompted when nothing came out right away. One hand was thumbing through a datapad, the other affectionately stroking Miles.

Ironhide vented, flexed his armor and then spoke, never once taking his optics off of the rhythmic pattern of Jazz's affection for his organic. **"I have some questions about Miles' nanites. Or at least, those Red Alert is modifying, and I would like your opinion. How likely do you think it is that someone unauthorized could get their hands on the kill codes, or modify them in some way. Say, Soundwave, or someone with his level of skill."**

**"Given what time frame?"** Jazz leaned back and focused on the frontliner.

**"Expected lifespan of a claimed human socket,"** Ironhide answered, still not meeting Jazz's optic band.

**"With or without Red and me on the job as counter-intelligence and program maintenance?"**

**"I guess that depends on how much leave you plan on taking over our sockets' lifespans ... or until the war is over at least."** Ironhide responded, finally looking at Jazz's visor, a questioning tone in his deep voice.

**"A few months this time, probably a metacycle on Ratchet's insistence after the birth,"** Jazz said. **"Baring Prowl's deactivation, of course."**

Ironhide grunted. **"Then with you and Red on the job."**

Jazz focused inward, reaching out to tag Prowl with the question while insisting that the tactician stay where he was. Over his displeasure, Prowl gave his opinion, broken down by more variables than Jazz had asked for, or Ironhide could probably follow. That fed into the saboteur's own tactical processor and then to the bulk of his processors where he did his real work.

**"Getting the codes without being detected before Mr. Satellite can crack them, next to zero,"** Jazz said with the easy conviction of believing it. **"Getting the codes will probably happen. The trick is getting them, cracking them and using that information before Red changes it, either on my intel or his own paranoia. He'll have his own socket to think about before New Years."**

Ironhide gave another grunt, likely the closest he would come to a thanks for the information.

He looked as though he were about to leave, but then spoke again. **"And will they be able to crack the core kernel virus Miles left as a gift? While our sockets live?"** Ironhide asked quietly.

**"It shouldn't happen while you or Prime still function,"** Jazz chuckled softly. **"Those are a real bitch to break and not fry yourself in the processes. Generally speaking, if you have a core kernel virus you aren't getting rid of it. Ratchet can't even do that. Mitigate the effects, possibly, but not remove it. Not without a complete reformat down to the hardware, and that doesn't always work."**

Ironhide nodded sharply in acknowledgment, everything about him radiating his discomfort with being in this particular office and speaking one-to-one with the silver mech.

He stood for a moment, as though he were trying to decide whether to ask anything more, his systems sounding unnaturally loud to his own audios.

**"Well,"** he mumbled, **"I guess they are fairly safe then, regardless of what they decide."** He gave another quick nod, then left the office.

When the door had slid shut, Miles burst out laughing.

"Oh God, Jazz, do you think he knows he has pink glitter all over his aft?"

"Most likely," he snickered. "It'll take him _days_ of scrubbing and probably submitting to Ratchet to get it all gone. Well, he _could_ ask me, but you know he won't," he teased with a light magnetic pulse from his palm.

Miles stood on his Jazz's lap and wrapped his arms around the silver neck, nuzzling and kissing the gorgeous metal face that just so happened to belong to _his_ mech.

"His loss. You can work on my aft instead."

"Anytime," Jazz rumbled softly, moving one hand down to stroke the soft skin, playing with the magnetic fields to make his socket's body tingle.

* * *

Sarah let out a gasp as the memory sharing suddenly ended, a tear rolling down her cheek. Will, spooning her from behind was shaken. She scooted herself closer to the battle scarred face of her mech who lay by them on the berth and ran a hand along features older than her solar system.

"I'm so sorry about how you lost her, Hide. I knew it hurt, but I didn't realize how much the nanites were related to the pain. I never would've pushed you so hard on it." She leaned in and kissed him on the corner of his giant mouth.

"Not why I showed you," Ironhide rumbled, his optics never leaving his sockets. "I just wanted you to understand _why_ I've been so...stubborn."

"I think we get it, at least as much as we can," Will sighed quietly, willing to let the ancient mech talk in his own time.

"I'm completely unreasonable when it comes to Jazz," Ironhide admitted, a single finger scooting Will even closer to himself so the human could again spoon his wife. The black mech's spark was soothed by watching the two mates touch. "I can't process clearly when it comes to him. I've lost so many others in this slagging war, but that was the first major loss, and as long ago as it was, as many sockets as I've had since then, I haven't let it go. I _know_ he was acting on orders. I even can see how the decision to take the sockets was tactically sound for the 'Cons. It isn't like we don't try to hit them where it hurts them most."

A warm blast of air hit both of the humans as the mech vented hard.

"None of that has anything to do with what you two want to do. I can never make myself say 'yes', to go ahead and do it. But you have to do what makes you feel safe. You won't ever need them, not on my watch, but I won't hold it against you. I won't be angry at you, I won't question you, and I won't pressure you."

"Thanks, Hide," Will reached out to stroke the battle-warn features. "We won't bring this up again, okay?"

"Good choice," he rumbled, then shuttered his optics as he relished the fragile and soft hands on his face. Finally, he scooped them both up in his hands and sat up.

"Make love in my hands," he commanded gruffly, arranging his servos so they could, cables from his wrists wrapping around both to caress and encourage. "Please," he added softly as he realized how overbearing he sounded.

The couple smiled and turned to each other, beginning with a kiss and familiar, loving hands. They knew without speaking to each other or communicating by the cable that connected them and Hide that the next day, their family would be making an appointment with Red Alert.


	68. Electric Blades 6:  Healing Touches

**Fandom**: Transformers Bayverse  
**Author**: gatekat and femme4jack on LJ  
**Pairing**: Jolt/Kwi-pa  
**Rating**: NC-17 mech/female sticky  
**Codes**: Het, Sticky, Xeno (mech/human), First Time  
**Summary**: A week after giving birth to a healthy girl, Kwi-pa has begun to feel _differently_ about Jolt.  
**Notes**: Written in the Dathanna de Gray fanverse (community .livejournal .com/ tf_socket_fics)  
**"text"** Cybertronian speech  
"text" organic languages  
~text~ bond talk  
::text:: comm chatter

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Electric Blades 6: Healing Touches

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Kwi-pa, her newborn daughter in her arms, walked close to Ma-le while listening intently to the other woman's explanation of all the strange things on the island that was now her home. The slightly younger woman was still in awe of everything and learning not to flinch when the 'magic voice' appeared in her mind when she thought about what something was or changed the language of those she did not understand.

"Ladies!" a warm, moderately resonate male voice greeted them in Lisu, drawing their attention to the blue, red and white mech with golden highlights striding towards them. "It's good to see you out and about on your own," he grinned even wider.

"The swamx is called Smokescreen," Ma-le told her quietly as the pair turned and bowed deeply in their wai, Kwi-pa somewhat awkwardly due to the infant she held.

"And this is Wolfkat," he motioned to where a dark brown and deep red part of his shoulder seemed to come to life in the form of a lithe giant canine that jumped down and stood slowly with exquisite grace that was all hard muscle and the flawless balance of a warrior-predator. "A warrior in Chromia's cadre."

"Hello," a deep, vaguely feminine growl returned the greeting with a wai that offered respect to their status as the wives of swamx while clearly indicated that she considered herself of notably greater position. Even if done in the wrong order, it was an effort to respect their ways that didn't go unrecognized.

Ma-le and Kwi-pa both bowed deeply in return. They faces held far more wide-eyed fear of the organic predator than either displayed toward the swamx, whom the girls associated with safety. Kwi-pa still was nervous around humans, especially the soldiers on Diego Garcia. By extension, Wolfkat looked menacing to her.

"She is a protector," Smokescreen said softly as he knelt, putting himself closer to human eye level, but also placing himself in a position where he could demonstrate control over the alien organic that was frightening them. "If you allow her to sniff your daughter, she will know her as a charge to protect and retrieve if she gets lost."

Kwi-pa looked down at her child and then up at Smokescreen, uncertainty written on her face. Finally she looked back at Wolfkat, whose entire demeanor spoke of danger. Ma-le leaned over and whispered in her ear.

"No one is going to hurt or take your baby here, Kwi-pa. She is safe."

Kwi-pa gave a small nod and then bravely held the tiny infant toward the canine.

"Kuhn Jolt will name her at the bonding party," she said in a quiet voice. "Until then, she belongs only to G'ui sha, our creator."

Wolfkat nodded and took two steps forward before dropping to all fours. She kept her mouth carefully closed and inhaled deeply of newborn's scent, then backed off to stand at Smokescreen's side.

"Thank you, Kwi-pa," the mech smiled. "Are you headed anywhere?"

"Ma-le and I were walking to medbay. Kuhn Ratchet wished to check on the baby and me." Kwi-pa answered with a slight bow.

"Would you like a ride?" he offered, cautious as always with a bladewarrior's socket. Even though Killblade was far more balanced than the Twins, he had no desire to anger him.

Kwi-pa looked questioningly at Ma-le, who smiled warmly at the swamx.

"You honor us," Ma-le responded for both of them with a new air of confidence she'd had ever since Kwi-pa had arrived and the Lisu girl had someone less knowledgable than herself to look after.

With a grin he stood and stepped back, smoothly folding in on himself before offering them the front doors of the Peugeot 4002 prototype he'd last scanned. "Please get in. Wolfkat prefers to ride on top."

Both girls giggled a little as they climbed into the streamlined futuristic vehicle, neither missing the fact that they were to be sitting _inside_ a swamx.

"You are certain this is alright?" Kwi-pa asked quietly, as though she thought if she whispered Smokescreen wouldn't hear her.

"It if fine. We are free to spend time with the other swamx so long as we do not share pleasure with them ... at least those are the rules of my husbands. I'm certain Kuhn Jolt will explain his own rules once he claims you," Ma-le explained.

Kwi-pa looked around for a seat to strap her child into. Ratchet had been very stern with her about the need for a car seat, even in a swamx's vehicle form. If he had to make a sudden stop, her own arms would not be able to safety keep hold of her baby.

Before she even could ask, the appropriate seat had formed between the women. The newborn fussed when she moved her away from her body and strapped her in, but soon quieted at the warmth of the baby seat, the soft vibration from Smokescreen's spark and the EM field fluxing around her.

"That's a good girl," Smokescreen crooned just before his entire chassis shifted and sunk on its shocks. "That would be my girl on the roof," he assured them with a chuckle, rolling forward with gentle acceleration.

"Is she ... your wife?" Kwi-pa tentatively asked, looking up through the opaque roof to see the large predator clearly enjoying the feel of the wind through her fur.

"Not yet, though we're ... negotiating ... the idea," he chuckled. "She's still not convinced I'm worthy of her."

"A god, not worthy of her?" Kwi-pa snickered before covering her mouth, not wishing to be rude.

"Every culture is different," Ma-le explained to her new friend. "Her people must be more like Mikaela's. The type who try to make the gods fear them. What is amazing is that at least in Kuhn Mikaela's case, it seems to work."

"Both are true," Smokescreen chuckled as he picked up speed. "Though in Wolfkat's case, it's more that she is of a warrior caste that does not marry. She exists to protect her younger siblings, those who will marry and have children. Convincing her that I want _her_ and not a more natural choice for a socket is not easy."

It was more than obvious that neither of the Hill Tribe girls knew how to respond to the concept that any organic, human or otherwise, would willingly turn down the chance to be married to a swamx.

"She won't fall off?" Kwi-pa asked, looking up with concern.

"Not at these speeds," he assured them. "She's quite comfortable. She'll knock to come in if she needs to. She always does. How have you been settling in, Kwi-pa? I haven't gotten to speak with you nearly as much as I'd like."

"I am blessed that Kuhn Jolt chose to bring me back with him, and feel very happy with being here," Kwi-pa replied earnestly, her hand stroking the head of the newborn sleeping beside her. "I have not seen much yet. My daughter was born so quickly after we arrived, and today is the first day Kuhn Jolt permitted me to leave my bed for anything other than using the lavatory or eating."

"I'm sure he was thrilled that you were willing to remain resting for so long," the grin was audible in tenor of his voice. "Most of the women we are used to would snarl at him by the third day. Hopefully Shimmerfire and Jazz will be equally cooperative, though no one is counting on it."

"It was not that different than the customs of my village," Kwi-pa explained. "When a woman gives birth there, it is bad luck for her feet to touch the floor before the child is 7 days old. All of the other women in the village and her husband must care for her and allow the child to learn how to suckle without the mother being disturbed."

"Western women are have odd ideas," Ma-le commented, "but the ones I have met are also very kind."

"I'd say that's an accurate statement across all the cultures you'll find here," Smokescreen nearly purred in approval and slowed down, giving Wolfkat just enough of a break to make a spectacular leap from his roof to land on her toes after a twist and spin.

"I think you have found yourself a very _strong_ wife, Kuhn Smokescreen," Ma-le commented with a smile as the doors opened and the straps that held the baby in came undone on their own. "She will be a good protector if you ever choose to have your own sparkling."

"Thank you for the ride, Kuhn Smokescreen." Kwi-pa gave a bow to the swamx in his shape-shifted form.

Jolt did not wait for them to enter medbay, but was already outside the door waiting. Kwi-pa's smile became radiant as she turned toward the mech who had helped her deliver her daughter and had been doting on her all week.

"You are looking well, as does your child," Jolt nearly purred as he knelt so she could climb onto his hand.

Kwi-pa showed no hesitation climbing onto Jolt's hand, a shiver passing through her at the gentle pulse of his field. "I feel good, Jolt," she answered shyly, "and she is very content. Have you given any more thought to her name?"

"Yes," he said with an easy smile and stood slowly, ever-aware of the potential for distressing her or the baby. "I have decided what to call her. I think you will like it."

"I'm sure whatever you choose will bring good fortune to her." Kwi-pa gently kissed the infant's head. "Are you excited for tomorrow night? Ma-le told me that Kuhn Mirage and several of the humans who know how to properly polish will help you gleam like a blue gem. I am going to help even if I have to strap the baby on my back to do it."

"Very excited," he couldn't stop the shiver. "Jazz and Blaster are planning the music and lights. Sideswipe, Ironhide, Mirage and _Prime_ are providing the high grade and human drinks. Blaster's brood are making celebratory foods, human and Cybertronian. The Ops femmes are doing a cake and more decorations. Wheeljack promised fireworks. My cadre has refused to say what they're up to, but it's big. I think nearly everyone on base is working on it. It's going to be the biggest party either of us have ever seen."

"And I'm running the betting pools on how many mechs get knocked up this week," Smokescreen grinned, one hand stroking Wolfkat, who was once again sprawled across his shoulder.

"All except betting on Jazz," Jolt teased.

"That's a fools bet against it," Smokescreen snorted. "He's made it very clear he intends to be first now that he has a shot at it again."

Kwi-pa smiled sweetly at their banter, drinking up the joyful energy that seemed dance all around her. Between the public introduction of the Autobots via the new Prime Minister of Burma, a brand new baby on Diego Garcia who was getting a good deal of attention from sparkling-hungry swamx, and now the first bonding since they had made their home on earth, happiness was abounding. Coming to base had felt like emerging from a long nightmare for the Lahu girl. While still in Ma-le's village, she had felt as though the dark dreams were just around the corner, but on Diego Garcia, with one doting swamx and another who was fiercely protective, those horrors were kept far away, bothering her only late at night and quickly driven away by an attentive mech. The turn in her fortunes left her breathless.

The more she spoke with Ma-le, the less nervousness she had around the duties she had to Jolt. Ma-le had been hurt as she had been, though years before, but she experienced nothing but pleasure at the hands (and mouths and many other parts the girls had giggled about as they spoke).

"You mechs going to stand around and gossip all day, or are we going to give a check up to our newest organic and her little one?" Ratchet asked with far more good humor than was typical for him, leaning down to bring his optics to Kwi-pa's level and place a gentle finger on the infant.

"I'm off," Smokescreen laughed easily. "Somebody has to get what the Zerstörerz are up to out of them."

"Thank you for the ride, Kuhn Smokescreen," Kwi-pa gave a seated bow to the mech from Jolt's hand.

"All right, Jolt. Who shall we examine first, the mother or the baby?" Ratchet asked without a hint of a grumble.

"The baby," he decided easily, turning to follow his mentor inside. "The first born into the new socket society, yes?"

"Yes, and it will be refreshing watching this one grow up, Jolt. You made a good choice, in more ways than one. Alright, Kwi-pa," Ratchet turned his attention to her as Jolt set her down gently on a human-sized examination table on the middle of one of the berths. "We are going to get a weight and height on your little one, but I can already tell she is thriving on your milk. Jolt, why don't you scan the vitals on the little one."

::It is going to be _so_ much easier when we can call her by name,:: Jolt commented even as he nodded and activated a gentle but thorough scan.

"6lbs 8oz, 16.5 inches," Ratchet added.

::Have you picked the name? It is quite an honor, if I understand the significance correctly.::

Ratchet gently picked up the infant for a visual inspection, as much to get the child comfortable being handled by mechs as from any need. Physical contact was assuring to organics from their medics. The baby woke with a squawk, which he was quickly able to calm with the vibrations of his voice and the soothing warmth of his own plating and field. Soon the wide eyed infant was carefully regarding his face with the same intensity she would stare at a human one.

::Yes, she is effectively offering me the rights of his father. Those are very extensive in her culture,:: Jolt said and shifted closer, lifting a finger to let the newborn play with him. It seemed to endlessly amuse the baby, and was generally good for getting Killblade to stare at him blankly. ::It's still a little strange to think that they don't know their own designation.::

::Perhaps if they were born with the ability to speak, they would. I think Kwi-pa be more comfortable if you do her physical exam, Jolt. I can hold the baby if you don't want to keep it completely professional. I can already tell she is healing nicely and her psychological state is very good all things considering.::

::We haven't shared yet,:: Jolt gave no outward sign of his refusal. ::I'd rather not have the first time in context of medbay.::

::Ah, I understand. Thought you might like the first to be in the context of having a babysitter who has vorns upon vorns of experience handling organic young. Do let me know if I can be of assistance when you do choose to coax her into sharing. She has lovely resonance with you, I'm sure it will be quite satisfying for both of you.::

::Thank you,:: Jolt shot his new mentor a smile. ::I will take you up on that, simply not during today's examination.::

"Kwi-pa, Jolt needs to examine you, now, just to make sure your uterus and birth passage are healing as they should. Would you prefer a private room?"

"Whatever Jolt wishes," Kwi-pa answered dutifully, though it was obvious she wasn't inclined to be naked in the middle of the public portion of medbay.

"A private room," he answered simply and lowered his hands for her to climb onto, privately pleased that she'd found some modesty again. While it wasn't something encouraged in sockets, it was far preferable to the broken will she had at first.

"May I hold your little one while Jolt examines you? I can remain out here, or come into the room so you can continue to see that she is safe," Ratchet offered, well aware of the paralyzing fear that had overwhelmed her several times that the child would be taken away from her.

Kwi-pa looked back and forth between Jolt and the CMO, obviously wanting to trust but still having difficult doing so. Jolt gave her an encouraging look.

"Yes, please Kuhn Ratchet. If you would watch her out here, I will not be distracted," she bravely decided. Like Killblade and Jolt, Ratchet gave her every reason to trust him.

"You're making him a happy medic," Jolt crooned and cradled her against his chestplates, near his spark, and walked towards the nearest private room. "He has a complete weakness for young of all kinds."

"She is so tiny as it is, and looks the size of a mouse in his hand, or even smaller!" She observed, lying her ear and cheek on his plating. Though he had not asked _anything_ of her yet, the abused girl had drunk up every ounce of affection as though she were dying of thirst.

Without being asked, she pulled up the skirt Ma-le had given her and slipped off her panties once Jolt put her down. It was certainly not the first examination she'd had, either before or after the birth. She was still bleeding mildly, as would be expected until her uterus had expelled everything and was back to its normal size and shape, but she hadn't felt pain, either inside or outside, in days thanks to the magic he'd injected into the new socket on the back of her neck.

The first couple of times he had touched her as a medic, she had completely divorced her mind from her body as she had done when she was raped. However, with each succeeding time she felt the tingling heat from his hand near her, she found herself paying closer attention to his gentle brushes on her body, proving that her most private places were not simply a source of pain and humiliation.

"She will be a beauty when she grows up," Jolt smiled, his optics glittering as he took in the sight and feel of his socket-to-be. Her energy called out to his spark, though he kept that firmly in check. He was a warrior still, he always would be. The small ache was a small price. "She takes after you. I can see it easily already."

He extended a connection cable from his wrist to her hand, more insistent than most that she always make the connection.

Kwi-pa gave him another bright, yet shy smile, her eyes locked on his optics. Her biochemistry easily revealed her growing levels of arousal that flashed brightly simply by being around him.

"I am glad you see me in her and not..." she trailed off, having no desire to speak of her primary tormentor now that she felt so good and safe. She quickly plugged the cable from him into her neck to distract herself from evil thoughts. She sighed with contentment feeling his non-demanding, safe and gentle presence in her mind.

"She is very much your child," he said, watching her responses with all his senses and through the socket as he moved his fingers along her abdomen, examined her condition and how much blood and tissue had soaked into the pad she wore. "How do you feel about her, now that she is born?"

"I love her more than I could ever imagine loving," Kwi-pa gushed. "Everything about her just makes me feel so much love. The little sounds she makes while she nurses, watching her sleep, how she smells. I ... I think about the fact that she would have been taken from me, just like the first, and I ache to protect her. I know she is safe here, and that makes me so happy. It truly doesn't matter to me who her father was and how she came to be. You are naming her, the other is nothing to her."

Kwi-pa covered her mouth, shocked that so many words had come out at once.

It brought a delighted expression to Jolt's face and undeniable approval across the connection. "That is how it should be," he crooned. "Do you have any discomfort while nursing, cramps or aches? Even a small pain could be something I need to attend to before it becomes worse."

The girl blushed and removed her hand from her mouth, revealing a bright smile, a rush of warmth passing through her body at his expression. "I have a bit of pain while nursing, but only when she doesn't latch correctly. The cream you gave me heals the chapping right away. Other than that, I feel better than I have ... better than I have in a long time. I can't believe my appetite. I'm eating more in a meal than I did for days at a time before. But you already know that. You, Killblade, and Ma-le brought me food in bed for so many days." She gave a little laugh.

"Yes, and I'm very pleased with it and your recovery," he said, showing his approval more through the socket connection. At the same time, he carefully hid the way his spark frantically reached out for her. She didn't know what she was feeling was arousal, but he very much did. Oh, he so very much knew what it meant. "How chaotic have your emotions been?"

She could _feel_ her swamx's powerful yet gentle mind in her own and it made her heart skip a beat. After the pain she'd endured, being connected to him was like lying in the sun, safe and completely at peace. It did not mean she felt good or happy all of the time, however.

"I'm still having waking-visions when something makes me feel afraid or startles me, and you know about the nightmares. Sometimes I cry for no reason, or just because the baby is so beautiful."

"I have noticed," he smiled gently, a finger stroking her back. "I understand it is within the normal range for the first month, but if it is bothersome, we can mute the affects some. You may put your panties back on too."

She nodded her understanding even as a shiver ran through her at his touch, causing her birth passage to clench and a warmth to settle in her secret places. As she pulled her panties back on, she noticed how wet she was, not with a resumption of the flow of her birth blood that had slackened the last few days, but something else. She considered asking Jolt what it was and if there was something wrong with her.

"That is what arousal feels like," he answered before she had to. "Desire."

He had spoken of it before, and how he would not ask her to give her myi to him until she felt enough of it. When he named her feelings, it was as though his voice went straight through her, making her yearn for something she didn't understand. All she had ever known was pain from the part of her body that throbbed at his words.

"It aches, but it doesn't hurt," she whispered, staring at him and wondering why she was shaking if she wasn't afraid.

"That is how it should feel when you think of sex, or one you wish to make love to," he suppressed his shudder. "If you still feel this way when my shift is over, perhaps we can explore it a bit more."

She nodded, reaching out a trembling hand to lightly touch his metal cheek. Emotions threatened to overwhelm her, the deepest of which was a sense of relief that what she had been dreading about her duties to her god-husband was now something her heart was racing in anticipation of. "I want to. I wish your shift was over now," she boldly admitted.

::That can be arranged,:: the CMO commed from where he was monitoring his apprentice. ::You are doing so well with her. Ma-le can help me with the child, and we have a replica of her milk on hand.::

::It would be good, to share when she wants it this much,:: Jolt replied, still hesitant. It was beyond frivolous a reason to leave his post, that had been a constant his entire functioning, but _Ratchet_ was suggesting it. Surely his mentor did not mean it as a trap.

::Then I order you to take the rest of the orn off. A few joors extra for your bonding leave won't hurt, and you can make it up later. Besides, _this_ is an important part of her healing, so you can consider it part of your work.::

The voice on the comm was so full of good humor it was tempting to think he was an impostor.

::Yes sir,:: he finally shivered and laid his hand flat on the berth. "Ratchet prefers we not wait, if it is agreeable to you to allow him to watch your daughter while we return to our quarters."

Her eyes widened as she gasped, her hand flying to her mouth in nervous excitement. Jolt felt her twinge of guilt leaving her daughter as she climbed onto his hand. "She will be ok? I've never been apart from her."

"She will be perfectly fine," he assured her and brought her against his chest, cupping her protectively with both hands. "Ratchet knows more about the care of little ones than anyone on the island."

Kwi-pa leaned in at his assurance, pressing her cheek against his chest plating to feel the vibrating warmth. The fresh pad was soaked through with what was most certainly not blood, and the heat of his hand under her made her ache even more between her legs. She felt dizzy, but not because of the swamx's height or speed, though they seemed to reach the new quarters he'd been given in anticipation of his bonding and a claimed socket faster than ever.

"If you are ever uncomfortable, please tell me," his voice was far more intense than usual, excitement radiating from him and his spark pulsing faster. "It is painful for us if you hurt or fear."

"I promise," she replied solemnly, confused at the sensations and emotions rushing through her, but knowing that she _wanted_ whatever he would ask her. Jolt was so gentle and safe, and she could not imagine experiencing something at his hands that would hurt her, even though it was difficult to imagine anything having to do with sex causing anything but pain. She could feel his anticipation through the cable that still connected them, and found herself closing her eyes simply to experience the feeling of his thoughts pressing against hers without distraction.

Jolt knelt on the berth, curling around to relax against the headboard. "Will you undress for me?" he asked, his voice catching slightly. "Allow me to see you as a lover would."

Her mind flashed briefly to the many times she had been ordered to undress with a gun pointed at her head or a machete at her throat, but the memories did not make her afraid. Opening her eyes to regard the glowing ones of her rescuer, she felt as though the memories belonged to a different person. He asked her with such gentleness, and pressed into her mind the constant assurance that she was always free to say no, at any time, no matter how far along they were.

She slipped off the pretty western-style skirt Ma-le had given her, along with her soaked panties, and then pulled off the comfortable gauzy cotton shirt that went with it, followed by the bra that supported her heavy breasts, presenting herself fully naked to the swamx. It was not the first time. She had naked when she had given birth because she could not bare the feeling of clothes as she pushed. She had been carried to the baths several times during her week of rest, her body gently cared tended. But it was nothing like this. She _wanted_ him to look at her.

His response was full of the same sensations she felt, what he had named as arousal, desire, lust.

"So lovely," Jolt murmured, setting her down on his chest and stroked her with large, gentle fingers. She felt how much he was holding back as he touched her to arouse her for the first time. Fingers circling her milk-swollen breasts before cautiously slipping one between her legs to stroke her swollen womanhood.

"Oh," she gasped at the tightening ache between her thighs. She instinctively rocked her hips into his touch. It was like nothing she had ever felt before, or even imagined feeling. A need she could not even understand. How could she possibly _need_ to be touched there, to have her yearning ache filled?

Her heart was beating so fast she could almost hear it. "Oh," she whispered again, caught between the desire to throw her head back, eyes closed as she pushed as hard as she could onto the large warm finger and the desire to watch his hands as he touched her so reverently.

The deep, resonant moan that escaped Jolt focused her briefly, comprehension coming through the connection that touching her in this way made _him_ feel good in much the same way.

A cable snaked out from his wrist to replace his finger, leaving his hand free to stroke along her entire body.

His cable was warm, pliable and sensuous as it caressed her folds and then found the spot where she realized she ached the most. "Oh Jolt," she gasped as he touched something she had not even known was there that sent fire through her with each flick of the cable's tip. She found her hands stroking the much larger ones that were stroking her body, making her skin tingle and her toes flex and curl.

"This is what I want for you, for the rest of your life," he whispered with a hint of awe that she wanted him. "To feel this good. To give you good memories of being touched," he trembled and cautiously circled the tip of the cable around the slick, swollen entrance to her vagina.

A tear ran down her cheek, but Jolt could feel with certainty in her mind that she was happy - confused by her body's response, but so happy. "I had no idea ... I never could have imagined that my body could feel good like this, to want something inside me," she admitted.

For the first time in her life, instead of trying to divorce her mind from her body as she was brutally violated, she instead yearned to have something in her ... to have _him_ in her. The very thought of it made her whimper.

With a shudder he slid the cable inside, exploring the channel slowly and gently. The cable hummed in time with his spark, warm and thick, but never so much it strained her still-healing body.

"I will strive to make those sad times a distant memory," he promised fervently. Giving in to his own desires he ran a hand down his chassis and slid his interface panel open. The spike sized for Killblade pushed halfway out, pressurizing quickly under the sensual assault of the small organic in his other hand. "I want nothing but pleasure and happiness for you."

Her only response was a small sob, clearly of relief and not pain through the connection and her body. It felt _good_ to be gently filled. There was _no_ violation, no pain, only a yearning ache for more as she began to rhythmically clench around the cable and move her hips in an instinctive rhythm.

She cried out as he touched his own spike, encircling it with his hand. She could feel his very different pleasure mingling with her own, and became aware in her mind of the bright light inside of him that was hungering for what only one like her could give. She felt how the spark wanted her to belong to him, and to him and his mate alone, to claim, treasure and protect her, to share her with others only when it made her feel happy and good.

Everything in her said yes to that desire and Jolt let out a static burst of his own in relief and thanks.

Despite the intense desire to thrust harder, to press her to her back and sink his spike, sized for her, into her warmth and claim her, he held himself back. His sensors knew the limits of her body and he pushed those protocols forward, beyond the safeguard status they usually held. He'd do no more than the single cable for now.

"You feel so good, Kwi-pa," he gasped out, his spark, though well-fed, hungered for her pleasure more than any other. "Can you feel what your pleasure gives me?"

She moaned in response, not able to give words to the sensations from the bright light in him felt which were even better than the loving invasion of his cable. She gasped at the melding of two very different pleasures, one alien because it was his, the other also alien because she had _never_ imagined her body could produce such feelings. The only thing she could compare it to was the relaxed bliss she felt nursing her daughter, though that pleasure did not set her on fire with a need for _more_.

Distantly, she was aware that he was telling her words for what she felt and what he was doing, both to her and himself. It was washed over by the shudders the pleasure caused, but the words would be there to use another time.

Jolt squeezed his hand tighter, picked up the pace of his strokes along his spike. He'd so rarely felt the need to do this; when he wanted to get off there'd always been a cadre-mate willing to enjoy the overload with him. But, oh, it felt _so_ good when combined with Kwi-pa's reactions. The human was nothing like Shekat or Caurver, but the tricks he knew for getting those two and their predecessors off were working well.

What he wasn't sure of is if he'd hold out long enough to send her over the edge.

Kwi-pa completely lost herself to instincts she didn't even know she had, writhing and crying out with pure abandon at each stroke. She no longer knew whether she was feeling Jolt's own hand on his very phallic cable, or the stroke of his other cable inside her, part of which had split off to send tingles to the place just outside of her entrance where every good feeling seemed to coalesce.

Suddenly there were flashes in front of her eyes and her body seemed to explode into a tingling release unlike anything she'd ever felt in her life. She rhythmically clenched the part of him that was inside her even as fluid gushed out and her body locked up. In her mind's eye, the light inside Jolt swelled in size at the energy rushing into it, just before another wave of intense pleasure crashed into her from him.

The sound that escaped his vocalizer began with a high-pitched keen, the sound he made when he was with his mate that soon went too high for her to hear, though she could feel it in her very bones.

The sensations seemed to go on and on, crashing back and forth between them until she was certain she'd come apart from pleasure. As it slowly subsided, she found herself clinging to his chestplates, panting for breath, the sound of her heartbeat and blood rushing through her head deafening her to her own whimpers as he slowly pulled out of her. Her whole body was kept twitching and shaking in the after effects of whatever had just transpired.

"Thank you," Jolt whispered when she was coherent enough to understand him.

"Am I going to wake up and find out you are just a dream?" she asked, shivering from chill despite the warmth radiating. She wanted to cling to him and never let go. This god, this metal swamx had quite literally taken her from hell to paradise.

"Never," he promised, the sincerity echoing through their connection. "I am not a dream, and neither is this life you have now."

"Thank you," she sobbed, curling into the fetal position on his chest under the warmth and safety of the giant, gentle hands that shielded her. "I never could have imagined ... never have felt _so_ good. Did I give you what you needed?" she asked as her body sobbed a very different kind of relief.

"Yes," he stroked her back and cradled her, offering all the comfort and protection she could hope for. "Your pleasure was incredibly good, your strength fed my spark very well."


	69. HP 25: Reconnecting JazzxPrimexProwl

**Fandom**: Transformers Bayverse  
**Author**: gatekat and femme4jack on LJ  
**Pairing**: Jazz/Prowl/Optimus Prime  
**Rating**: NC-17 mech/mech/mech, mech/human  
**Codes**: Slash, Sticky, mentions mechpreg, implied xeno  
**Summary**: Before officiating his first bonding ceremony in hundreds of vorns, Optimus wants to try and heal the rift with his senior officers.  
**Notes**: Written in the Dathanna de Gray fanverse (community .livejournal .com/ tf_socket_fics)  
**"text"** Cybertronian speech  
"text" organic languages  
~text~ cable or bond talk  
::text:: comm chatter

* * *

****

Hunting Pleasure 25: Reconnecting

* * *

Optimus Prime forced himself to relax. Whatever had breached the easy friendship between himself and Jazz simply had to be rectified, or at least gotten past. Jazz was acting more normal...normal for Jazz, that is, other than being sparkling-crazy. That meant it was a good time to try and make amends and find out what stories Jazz was spinning that he should be aware of.

A ping to the base network told him his SIC was in the newly constructed oil bath, a strictly no-organics zone due to the heat. It was easily the greatest luxury they had created for themselves, and the one place where the only thought to organics was how to make sure they remained outside.

Even better, it seemed the saboteur was alone.

The door slid open revealing ramp leading down to a large, dimly lit, perfectly round cave-like chamber, carved out underground with natural stone walls smoothed and polished to a glass-like sheen. Sunstreaker's latest punishment detail had been to paint murals of Cybertronian scenes, something that the golden mech had not even grumbled over. Optimus sent his command override code to the lock, exerting a privilege of the senior staff to have the large oil bath to themselves.

**"May I join you, my friend?"** he asked as the saboteur's head came out of the oil after fully immersing himself. The liquid was buoyant enough for a small mech actually swim in, provided he filled his intakes with whatever planetary gas was available.

**"Sure thing,"** Jazz grinned up at him, giving a light kick to take himself to the far side so Prime had plenty of room to find a place to settle. **"Business or pleasure?"**

Prime groaned as joints creaked and hydraulics hissed to allow him immense frame to slide into oil hot enough to cook an organic in a less than a klik.

**"It hardly seems fair to come to you for business now that you are on leave,"** Prime commented once he his frame had settled. **"And while partly I simply wished to see how you are, I'll admit to hoping to chat a bit about our recent coming out of the proverbial closet. Humanity is reacting with as much mania, paranoia, panic and excitement as we'd imagined."**

**"Oh yeah,"** Jazz grinned, his entire manner full of eagerness that went far beyond excitement for the good party that was coming that evening. **"The breakdown is what we predicted, too. We really did land in a good time. They're aware enough to not believe we are gods, but still primitive enough to socially manipulate. It'd be nice if they didn't have nukes yet, but they're very well-ingrained not to use them, for all they threaten it often enough."**

Prime gave his lieutenant a warm smile. **"I'm pleased none of them have declared war on us save for North Korea, but we expected that. Burma's new Prime Minister has outdone herself in terms of public relations, and the recent 'Con raids on several of our allied nation's energy facilities have worked in our favor, especially since your intelligence managed to give the affected nations the heads up each time. Your agents did exceedingly well, Jazz."**

A smile that was undeniable pride spread across Jazz's relaxed features. **"I do my best to prepare them to do just that,"** he nearly purred, as proud of his agents as of his role in their abilities and the behind-the-scenes organization that made Special Operations as efficient as it was.

**"That you do,"** Optimus chuckled, leaning back even further in the oil, his lower pedes brushing against Jazz's own in comfortable contact. **"Not a single head of state has questioned the story in Burma. They have no reason to. There is not a shred of evidence for anything other than what Mya Myiang reported to the press and the UN."**

Prime's optics dimmed in the mech version of a yawn as weariness overtook him. He'd traveled around the Earth speaking to one nation's leaders and press after another in a single decaorn. Samuel and Bumblebee had accompanied him, the former to tell his story of meeting and working with the Autobots, and second because of his natural skill and enjoyment of organic culture and public relations. He'd barely had time to recharge, and had only come back to officiate at a bonding that no Autobot wished to miss - the first on earth.

**"Mmm, I'm sure it helps that her reputation on Earth is as unquestionable as the Lord Prime's before the war,"** Jazz hummed thoughtfully before sinking fully under the heat, indulging as he rarely allowed himself to. **"Did I hear right that the human press will be here for the big event?"** He added, his voice easily carrying the short distance through the thick liquid.

Prime smiled softly at the spot where Jazz's frame was fully underneath the oil, pleased to see him so relaxed.

**"Hand selected based on the quality and fairness of their reporting. I hope it is the right decision. A chance for the humans to see that we love, mate and feel as deeply as any other sentient species. It is normally a decision I would have deferred to your judgment on."**

A soft groan of pleasure escaped Jazz before he mustered an answer.

**"As long as they're comfortable with what they'll be seeing and know most of that footage can't be aired in normal broadcasts, it's a good choice. Just because they work for a company pre-disposed to see us favorably, or even that will report on mating habits, like National Geographic, doesn't mean that particular human is comfortable with it, or with watching _us_ do it. There are a handful of native cultures where mating and bonding are public events, but they are all very small, remote groups. You say 'wedding, 'bonding' or 'joining' ceremony to almost any human and they'll think of something very non-sensual and formal."**

**"Well, they won't be disappointed with the formality. It will be like nothing even most of our mechs have seen. It will certainly be eye-opening for everyone, as will Jolt naming his socket's baby just prior. I will prepare the press and dignitaries for all of it, including our relationship with our organics. Once they witness all of the mechs trying to outdo one another in stimulating their decorated sockets tonight, there will be no hiding it, anyhow."** Optimus almost purred in anticipation of the free-for-all that was sure to follow the official bonding. **"Sam has been making jokes about the National Geographic special all week. Apparently he and Miles used to sneak the magazines into Sam's room when they were 8 to look at bare breasted females."**

**"Just more proof they were destined for us,"** Jazz laughed as he rolled over in the oil and floated there, face down, in a passive display of trust he offered to very few outside his most senior agents and bonded. **"Sex on the brain even before they were out of their youngling frames. Creepy on a level, but still good for us. Speaking of decorated sockets, who's going to be on your shoulder tonight?"**

**"I was thinking about asking Simmons,"** Optimus deadpanned, simply to see what reaction he got from his friend who was looking dangerously desirable spread out and relaxed in the oil. It had been far too long since the Prime had felt his large shaft sliding into Jazz's lusciously tight valve or had those criminally talented hands with their magnetic pulses working magic on his chassis.

A sharp convulsion hit the silver frame and for a nanoklik Prime was worried that he might have broken his SIC the way his TIC could be on occasion.

Then the riotous laughter bubbled up and Jazz popped up from the oil with a wild grin and over-bright optic band. **"I think my Prime needs a reset,"** he snickered and gave a kick that landed him straddling the larger mech's hips. **"I'm sure he'd prefer my idea of resetting methods to Ratchet's."**

Prime chuckled deeply, the musical laughter of the smaller mech a balm to his audios. It had been absent for far too long, and then he'd thought he'd lost it forever, first to death, and then to estrangement. He wrapped his broad arms around the lithe mech's aft to pull him even closer to the panel barely containing his throbbing spike and valve.

**"I'm certain you are correct, on both accounts. I'd be most gratified to have your assistance in the matter before I go and do something truly embarrassing to our kind. Do you realize I've shared with three different heads-of-state this past decaorn, not including Mya Myiang? I didn't set out to engage in seduction diplomacy. Sam had the gall to call me a whore."**

**"Make love not war ... if only it worked as well with our kind,"** Jazz teased. **"I'm sure Ratchet will be thrilled. He is _always_ on you to charge and interface more."** He trilled playfully and wiggled his aft to encourage Prime to open his panel even as he ran his claws up the broad chest in front of him. **"But right now, lets see about blowing your processors so you're in the right place for tonight."**

**"Mmm, what a splendid idea. You serve your Prime so well, one would think you'd been doing this forever,"** Optimus teased in return, his systems humming in pleasure as his panel slid back to reveal a thick blue spike that took no coaxing to pressurize. Its sensor-laden tip reached almost to spark level on the smaller mech's frame.

**"I do my best at anything I do,"** Jazz chuckled and turned his attention to the enormous spike before him. He closed his fingers around the base and slowly teased their way up, while his glossa slipped out to play with the tip and dip into the slit, playing with the sensors that would send a rush of pleasure to heighten overload as transfluid rushed passed them.

Optimus gave a rumbling groan as the skilled hands and glossa were put to such excellent use. He stroked his broad hands along the silver mech's back armor, sending magnetic pulses of appreciation along Jazz's spinal struts. The smaller mech hummed in pleasure at the attention.

The large mech gave a sigh-like vent and rested his forehelm against the top of Jazz's, laying a nearly reverent kiss there, trying to communicate through affection just how relieved he was that Primus chose to send his dangerous lieutenant, confidant, and occasional lover back to add the flare of chaos to their cause. Chaos in the cause of the light was truly an amazing thing to behold, even if it could never be contained or controlled; he wouldn't want to do so even if he had that kind of power over the maelstrom of a spark that burned in Jazz's chest.

Though he rarely said it, he believed that Jazz was the embodiment of the Autobot cause, of _his_ cause. A creature of such destructive potential, that could take honest joy in inflicting pain and death, was willingly curbing his desires and turning his talents to helping. If he could convince _this_ mech, one who still occasionally boasted of being the Unmaker's Chosen, then there was hope for all Cybertronians. Not even Megatron boasted Jazz's background.

Optimus growled, feeling suddenly possessive of something he could never posses. He moved his hips to bring his massive spike even closer to the saboteur's lip components and began caressing the complicated sensory fins on Jazz's helm with demanding hands, tracing one of them with his own glossa.

"You haven't lost your touch," Jazz shivered and pressed into the contact, eager for the touch of such a powerful body. He pressed his glossa deeper into the slit and pulsed magnetic fields through the thick spike between his hands as they slid up and down.

A deep rumble came from Prime as his engine revved. He wanted everything from the formidable mech - his irresistibly tight valve, the sheer power of his processors, the wild, uncontainable nature of his spark. He would take whatever Jazz would give, but he always was left wanting more, completely undone by his once enemy. He would never admit it aloud, but Jazz was the closest thing he had to what his brother had once been for him. Someone who had no fear of him, who could care less about his office, and would happily tell him off to his face just before facing him senseless.

**"Your valve ... I want your valve ... please, Jazz,"** he found himself begging as the saboteur continued to put his skills to such good use on his spike.

**"Thought you'd never ask."** Jazz grinned and slid his panel open, his hands continuing to pleasure the spike as it resized to suit him. **"_Use_ me, Prime,"** he added with a husky growl. **"Show me you still have the strength that made you worthy of my loyalty."**

With a feral growl, he lifting Jazz out of the oil with one hand under his aft and the other wrapped behind his silver back. He leaned down and pulled his SIC up for a crushing kiss, his glossa delving deep into much smaller mouth. Even as they kissed, in a swift motion, Jazz suddenly found himself against the polished wall of oilbath chamber with the thick spike ramming into him with all the strength he would expect of a warrior-Prime.

It drew a shuddering moan from the saboteur. His vents hitched and his body arched and pressed closer. His valve rippled and flexed in ecstasy, nodes that not even Prowl could light flared to life as he tried to take even more spike inside him that was physically possible.

With the same grunts and growls the unfortunate heard from Prime in battle before he tore their very life away, Optimus began a wild and uncontainable rhythm, knowing that this was one mech who relished it. Jazz was more dangerous in contentment than Prime was in full fury, and Optimus did not need to hold himself back as he would with other lovers to to avoid frightening them. This mech, this creature of chaos, reveled in the untempered power being directed at him.

Jazz gasped and writhed, locking his pedes around Prime's small waist as he matched the big mech thrust for thrust, taking in the absolute bliss of being in the arms and control of a mech that, at least occasionally, was _worthy_ of dominating him. Trembling fingers dug into Prime's chest armor, just above the wide windshields. Jazz knew it would cause a bit of pain, but that was half the point. The other half was to hold on for his very functioning.

The roar that came from Prime shook the chamber and sent ripples through the oil of the bath as a shattering overload crashed through his systems. He continued to thrust with each eruption of hot fluid from his spike that flooded the sensors deep inside Jazz's valve. The EM pulses that tore through Jazz were enough to set him over the edge, his valve tightening, gripping the spike with all his strength as he keened.

Optimus slid to his knees, his frame shaking even as he pulled Jazz away from the wall and against his chest, nuzzling the top of his helm and rubbing large hands up and down the saboteur's back struts.

**"Thank you,"** the deep baritone voice vibrated against the smaller mech. **"I've missed you."**

Jazz only hummed, the sonic vibrating both their frames, and snuggled close to the spark that had once called to him to serve and destroy in equal measure. Now the call to serve was much stronger than ever before.

That made Jazz twitch and struggle not to analyzing it, but he couldn't stop thinking. He needed to _know_, to _feel_, to _taste_, that the spark so close to his was the one he wanted to submit to.

Slowly, he looked up at the giant cradling him and still deep inside him, and pushed away a bit. Meeting optics without a word, Jazz unlocked his chest plates, slid them out of the way, and spiraled open his spark chamber to bathe the room in the black and amethyst light.

Prime could see at once that it was changed from the last time they had merged. There was far less darkness there, and he knew instinctively that this was not a positive development for his conflicted SIC. He had few doubts it was a large part of why Jazz hadn't quite found his balance yet. It if was as traumatic as it looked, it would take hundreds of vorns for processors to completely adapt to the changed spark.

Even knowing very well the inherent danger they both were in, Optimus did not hesitate unlock his own plates to reveal the large, distinctive spark of Primus' given form, all colors swirling in a breathtaking prism of light. He had always erred on the side of trust with Jazz, believing that it would bring out the best in the mech with so much potential for both good and ill.

The matrix moved aside as the large, multi-faceted chamber spiraled open, but both could sense the presence watching and waiting with keen interest. Whether to simply observe, or join, neither knew.

A faint tremble passed down Jazz's frame as he stared at that most unique of sparks. The darkness in his spark lashed out with a handful of tendrils, but most of it hurriedly hid within the core of the amethyst light that Primus had created so long ago.

Neither mech moved, watching in fascination as the black tendrils were greeted by several of Prime's own, each wrapping around each other. There was no connection between the mechs, though. This was pure battle, the Unmaker and the Maker, testing their relative strength until the darkness broke off, abandoning the bits firmly in Prime's grip to join the protected core of Jazz's spark once more.

Neither needed to say that the battle was far shorter and less volatile than it had ever been before.

Prime allowed Jazz to set the pace, waiting serenely for the smaller mech to move closer as amethyst reached out tentatively for the multi-colored tendrils radiating outward in welcome.

With a deep venting, the silver mech shifted, his movements smooth as always, never giving hint that he was uncertain and more than a little afraid in ways he never had been before. As surface emotions flickered back and forth between the pair, neither commented on it, or really paid attention to. They both knew what was there, right on the surface. It was the part of their public personas that they honestly believed and felt to their core.

With a barely noticeable hesitation, Jazz inched closer, brushing the edge of the coronas together. He could take hidden knowledge now, know beyond what was shown, but he was giving it up too.

What surprised them both was the sudden presence of Prowl in the connection, and he was anything but agreeable. Tightly wound and in that peculiar processor-space that was cool, focused fury - it was not a side of Prowl that Prime _ever_ wanted directed at him.

~Easy babe,~ Jazz reached out to him. ~It's okay.~

A low growl replied, demanding to be allowed to be fully aware of the merge, effectively joining in from a distance. It was a very new demand.

Prime showed no hesitation in welcoming Prowl into the connection, furious and protective as the tactician was. He assured his TIC of his benign intent on the spark level that allowed no deception and welcomed the new protectiveness of his bonded. At this level of merge, Optimus could feel Jazz's desire for that protection in the midst of so many changes, not the least of which was the new-found, agonizing and uncontrollable love for an insignificant organic that had Jazz completely freaked out.

In return Prowl's fury cooled, settling him on a more level plain where he turned his attention to soothing and encouraging Jazz to accept the merge that had never been easy for him. Trust was not something that had ever come easy for Jazz, and after his experience with Primus, trusting Prime's spark was more difficult than ever.

Memories soon began to flow, and the agony of Jazz's encounter with Primus slammed into Optimus with all the subtlety of a freight train, nearly causing him to recoil from the merge. But his spark would not allow it, instead reaching out in compassion, offering to smooth out and heal the jagged injuries if Jazz desired him to do so. Prime's deepest spark traits were the creation of the new and novel and bringing wholeness to what was broken, traits stronger now than ever, and deeply at odds with the continuing war. Jazz saw in Optimus the enormous, Primus-tasked conviction that the war _must_ end and never be experienced by the sparklings soon to come. The healing of sparks wounded by war, whatever their faction, had been laid squarely on Prime's broad shoulders by Primus himself, along with the spark-gifts to do so. Prime widened and deepened the connection, taking in more of the pain and fear rather than pushing it away.

Though he already knew it, at least on a level, to _feel_ Jazz's terror at meeting his creator, at the sob that had escaped his spark when he realized oblivion was not to be his reward for a functioning finally done, tore at the Prime. Primus had stopped the brief, spark-level restructuring as soon as he felt how much agony was caused by Jazz's resistance. Yet even then, the touch of its creator had all but remade the amethyst spark; changes the saboteur was still struggling to adapt to now that he was in his frame once more.

A universe of perfectly remembered pain nearly obscured the reason Jazz had resisted and begged for the cleansing by Primus to stop. Not to save himself, or out of any loyalty to the darkness, or even desire for the power he had wielded since he had first come on line. It was down to the single thing that mattered to him more than himself: he had to protect Prowl, and he needed the darkness, and power that came with, to do that.

A soft, soothing harmonic from the third mech in the merge was directed only at Jazz, though Prime felt some of the effect as well as Prowl wrapped his bonded in himself. He didn't interfere with the merge; he only gave the support he couldn't before.

It was as though the amethyst spark slowly merging with his own was surrounded on three sides by the loving, protective, bright white of Prowl. Optimus was stunned by the beauty of the bonded pair's love that had grown to a whole new intensity. Jazz overflowed with a new sense of submission to Prowl and desire to hold back nothing from his bonded.

The larger mech felt as though there was something he should understand about that bond, something he should be able to recognize that would unlock the puzzle of these two sparks. They were more connected and far more in tune with one another than any other bonded pair he had experienced, for all that they had not been bonded terribly long by the standards of their species. They defined what sparkbonding was meant to be, and Prime, in turn, felt an overwhelming need to protect what they had and make it possible for them to spend the remainder of their vorns together without the daily pressures of war, duty and faction.

All of this was offered, along with whatever else the two wished to or needed to see and know of his spark. He had nothing to hide from them. He trusted them on a level he trusted few others.

Recognition flickered dimly within Jazz's spark, nearly overwhelmed by everything else, but the Matrix saw it and reached for the memory that was set down before they had come to this organic universe. Early in their alliance, Jazz had shared much of what he knew of Prima with her descendants. This memory set was newer, but not by that much.

_Baritone_

A simple name, even in the language of the time, but within Jazz it carried a wealth of information and emotions.

_The first bond of our kind. My first bonded. Primus' first act to change the Unmaker's Chosen._

_MINE._

The revelation was a surprise to Prime. He'd known Jazz had bonded before, he even had a sense of the role bonding played in the changes Jazz had experienced over time, but he'd never known Jazz's bond during Alpha's reign had been the very first sparkbond in history.

~We had no idea what we were doing,~ Jazz murmured, still grieving the loss of that first mech that had been _his_, though it was a dull pain after so long. ~There was no consent, no intent as it's understood now. I wanted him to be mine and he wanted to be mine. The bonding was just a merge, we thought. A strong one, but nothing we hadn't done before. We didn't understand for a long time that we were connected. I didn't truly grasp it until he extinguished and I felt it break, felt part of my spark leave forever. I was so very hungry for vorns afterwards, trying to fill that hole.~

It went without saying Jazz could never consume enough sparks to fill it. There was only one thing that ever did, and with each loss of a bonded, the hole and the need became greater.

Prime embraced the knowledge and the memory, understanding Jazz's hunger and the mech he became between bonds to an extent he never had before. It was a dangerous gamble Primus was playing. With each loss, Jazz's was left even more riven, but with each bond, he belonged more to himself and his bonded and ever less to the Unmaker.

It was such a very Primus thing to do ... to literally change another through freely-chosen love, and it clearly worked. Prime was struck for a moment wondering if it were too late for it to work for his brother ... if that is why Megatron had been sent back.

~Willingness was needed, even when it wasn't understood,~ Jazz said softly, slowly relaxing as he snuggled into the protective warmth of his bonded and his Prime. ~But your spark is unique, the Matrix very powerful. Maybe you could heal him now, but he'd still need to accept it. You don't have it in you to force another. You aren't me.~

Prime likewise relaxed into the strength of the two presences in his spark. ~I cannot foresee him ever accepting it, though I will offer if I ever have the chance. I should have bonded with him when he demanded it. I would gladly do so now, if it meant ending this, no matter what it did to me.~ Prime admitted.

~That may not be wise,~ Prowl said, always the tactician he had been sparked as. ~We need you more than we need peace that quickly.~

~What if she objects?~ Jazz ventured, mentally pointing toward the Matrix, some of his native curiosity coming back.

~I assume that in the unlikely chance that the opportunity ever comes up, Primus and the Matrix will guide me,~ Optimus said with mild amusement. ~I'm certainly not planning on sending him a courting gift. If I did, you might have to reset me again.~

~Several times, then drag you to Ironhide to have a reset _his_ way,~ Jazz snickered. ~Which will land you in medbay for Ratchet's version. If any Autobot is going to court that one, it's me, and it's not going to be for bonding.~

~If _you_ ever say that seriously, _I'll_ be resetting you the hard way,~ Prowl grumbled, though there was a bit of amusement in the very old feeling exchange.

~You and I both. Neither I or the Matrix have any desire to see what Megatron's spark is capable of consumed by Jazz. One of the Unmaker's chosen sparks in my service is enough.~ Prime chuckled, though it was obvious he was dead serious. ~The matrix is not all that interested in healing Megatron's spark at the moment, either. What she is interested in, after her countless objections, is finding out if Sam's theory about a Prime-spark is true. She has been rather insistent about it. It's been most distracting, especially when I've been in the presence of potential carriers.~

Jazz's vents sucked in a sharp draft of air and there was no missing the hurt acceptance from Prowl as he backed out of the connection and blocked it without so much as a thought before he could be stopped.

~With me,~ Jazz said. His spark twisted, much of the pros and cons of the idea being calculated for their worth where Prime could see them, if he looked. All Prime could focus on was the dual message of nearly numb acceptance, truly submission, from Jazz's amethyst spark, and the maelstrom in its darkness as it struggled to free itself of its protective cocoon to protect its light from the violation it perceived was coming.

It all happened in less than a processor klik, and Jazz had his spark fully under control, his processors in order, and acceptance the only emotion visible.

~Jazz,~ Prime said gently. ~That was not the intent of my comment. I only intended to ask you after you and Prowl have brought one of your own online. I already have a willing carrier, and we planned to try only after you were carrying by Prowl. I will not say 'no' if this is truly what you want. I am far too curious and want it too much, but it does not have to be now. ~

~I don't want you that way, not now.~ Jazz murmured, fingers of relief and fear poking at the numbness. ~I offered, I'll carry now if you ask it of me, but I've never wanted you for more than what we already share.~

~And I will not ask it of you now. The Matrix and I are intensely curious about what we would create - the strength of your spark and a Prime spark, the nature of how you carry...but that curiosity can be fulfilled later, if at all, and only if you wish it.~ Prime paused, his confusion and curiosity about Jazz's reaction, the instant submission to what he thought Prime was asking was clear through their sparks that were still connected.

~We would create something worthy of being feared by all,~ Jazz said with a calm certainty. ~Your strength and my taste for killing, even Megatron would bow to it. A Prime that could consume another's spark would not have even needed to fear mine at my strongest. Megatron would be nothing to her.~

~The question is whether she would be worthy of being loved and trusted by those she could rule.~ Implicit in his statement and in his spark was the trust and love he freely gave to Jazz, which his SIC had proven worthy of a thousand times over.

~Loved, always,~ Jazz shared a taste of what it meant to be a creator in such an intimate way, surprising Prime once more with the depth of devotion and care he had been capable of even with only a few fingers of Primus' light in his spark. ~Trust ... only if you know how to control her. I can. You, perhaps.~

~Why did you feel ... why the submission, Jazz? I have never wanted you as anything other than an equal.~

~I offered, I meant it, I just never expected you to take me up on it, especially not now, when I've spent so much effort to be ready for Prowl,~ he tried to organize what amounted to reflex into words. ~It's not submission to you, but to the choices I've made.~

Optimus accepted the answer, saw the truth of it in his spark, but also that there was more his SIC was not saying. He didn't push. There was something new there, something that went hand in hand with the submissive fear he saw in Jazz's spark toward Primus, and it was something better left unspoken and unacknowledged for now, like the depth of feeling Jazz had for his socket. There would be time to assess it later, when Jazz had a better grasp on it.

~I look forward to seeing you as a carrier with my own optics, Jazz. A new bond, new seekerlings and sparklings ... I almost feel like a Prime again, and not a Lord High Protector carrying a title whose meaning is no longer understood by most.~

~That ... is good,~ Jazz said after a moment, and began to relax once more, relaxing within the kind of power that unsettled most. ~The Autobots follow their _Prime_ after all. Very few grasp how much you did to yourself to become a warrior, and it is best it remains that way.~ Another pause, a search for words and the courage to say them. ~You are a _Prime_, Optimus. No longer a Lord Prime, but what many called Alpha in his early days. A Tesis, a warrior Prime. A leader to be as feared in his rage as respected in his compassion. It is not a bad thing, what you have become at Primus' hand. It is what we need now.~

Optimus was quiet for what felt like a long time, resting in the comfort of connecting with his most important adviser with an intimacy he thought he had lost. Jazz felt the matrix watching with keen interest to gauge Prime's reaction.

~The matrix agrees with you, Jazz, on what I am no longer and what I am. I will never be a Lord Prime again. That is why she has relented in her objections to my siring new sparks. She says I will pass on the title of Lord Prime to another, and will become Lord High Protector. I know it was necessary...to become this. But I still long to be bringing forth life rather than creating death. I am grateful there is at least one way I still am able to do so.~

~There was a time when Lord High Protector was no more a death-dealer than the Lord Prime,~ Jazz murmured, relaxing more and more as he curled against, and nearly inside, Optimus' chest and shared ancient memories of those early Primes and the complex web of lineage and fidelity that connected all of their kind in those orns. A way of functioning and thinking that had been forcefully ended with the Allspark and politics that had come from its arrival. ~I can feel that He did as much to you as He did to me. You can heal now, remove darkness and pain from another's spark like Primus does. I hope that passes on to your sparklings. It would do so much to keep our kind from seeking war again.~

Gratitude washed over Jazz's spark from Prime's own, as well as unspoken understanding and compassion for the changes his SIC had barely begun to come to terms with. He stroked Jazz's back rhythmically in spark-deep affection.

~I would never offer to remove the darkness from you...not after the pain it caused you and the reasons you hold on to it, but I can heal some of the jagged edges left from that experience, if you wish it.~ Optimus made his offer freely, with no expectation of being accepted or rejected, no judgment, just an honest desire to do what he could to help his trusted friend feel more at home in his own frame and spark.

Jazz looked at himself, his spark, for a very long moment, considering the offer and its implications. In the end, a simple but nearly overwhelming string of code made the choice. For the good of the sparkling he intended to spark in a few joor, he needed to be as balanced as possible.

A little to Prime's surprise, there was no resistance to that code. Jazz all but embraced it and the demands, triggering a longing so intense it nearly blinded them both.

A soft sound escaped Jazz's vocalizer, and he reached out for Prowl, giving a hard mental whack to the shielded side of the bond. The response was immediate, Prowl had likely been waiting for the signal that the deep was done. There was a tendril of surprise from Prowl when Jazz wasn't sparked, and a quickly muted _gratitude-joy_.

The couple were oblivious to Prime for a nanoklik as they reaffirmed their care and dedication to each other. Information flowed faster than it had between Prime and Jazz in the depth of their merge, and Prime felt Prowl nod.

~Thank you,~ the tactician whispered to them both.

Spark deep joy met the response, followed by an invitation to deepen the merge and allow Prime's spark to do what it was now capable of.

There was no pain as there had been with Primus, only a wash of pure peace throughout the lavender light of Jazz's spark. All three were aware of the mild confusion Jazz felt at the difference, even as he gave in fully. Carrier code demanded he trust, and Jazz wasn't going to fight it. He wanted a new sparkling too much to risk it going wrong. Prowl was there too, watching the cleansing he was finding more appealing by the nanoklik. For now he simply supported his bonded's spark and choice and did his duty in keeping a sharp optic on what was going on so Jazz could drift.

The new energy in Prime's spark asked nothing, took nothing, and brought Jazz to an overload that was as soothing as it was pleasurable, flowing over and through the frenetic spark with wave upon wave of serenity. Neither Prime nor Prowl missed how the calmness they each provided was craved by the dazed and blissful mech.

~May I join you?~ Prowl asked when he perceived that the merge was winding down.

~Please do,~ came the relaxed, slightly overcharged response from Prime just before he and Jazz finally separated and closed their chestplates. Prime's spike was still buried inside Jazz and he found himself rather reluctant to give up that last bit of connection.

The door slid open a moment later, then locked again. Prowl knelt behind Jazz, supporting him with his chassis as the smaller mech turned his head to nuzzle him affectionately, still very much in a daze.

**"Prime, may I assist you?"** Prowl asked quietly. It wasn't a role he had taken before, or even thought of, but it seemed the right thing to do.

Prime smiled and pulled out of Jazz's valve, reaching out to pull Prowl into a soft and sensuous kiss in reply to his question. Though the Praxian never let go of his bonded, he returned the kiss willingly, warmly, with an uncertain heat that came from only having had only been with one lover.

Optimus broke the kiss and traced a finger gently and reverently along Prowl's chevron. **"Do you truly _wish_ to do this, old friend?"** Prime's affection and desire were obvious, but he was more than aware that this was completely new territory for his tactician. Before Prowl could answer Jazz thrummed deeply, and the Praxian shivered at whatever passed between them before Jazz pulled himself away and slipped back into the oil.

**"Yes,"** Prowl's reply was deep, the arousal having gone from uncertain to intense in a sparkbeat. The next kiss came with skilled fingers playing down Prime's chassis, even more firmly confirming than his voice.

In the back of his processors, Prime humorously considered arranging time to interface with his officers on a regular basis. It dispelled so much tension. If he could only get Ironhide facing Prowl and Jazz, the results could be potentially terrifying for the 'Cons.

The thought made him grin as he pulled Prowl onto his lap where Jazz had been straddling him. Their glossas played for dominance as they slid along one another in a sensuous dance. Anyone who thought Prowl cold had obviously never felt this side of the pre-programmed mech, Prime thought briefly, running his large hands lightly over his tactician's sensor wings, delighting in the rumbles of pleasure the strokes of his fingers brought from handsome mech's engine.

**"Primus!"** Prowl gasped, shuddering and breaking the kiss as his helm fell back and sensor wings pressed forward. His chassis heated, engine revving hotly. **"What do you want most, my Prime?"**

Prime's hands continued their journey across the terrain of Prowl's sensor wings, lighting up nodes and eliciting delicious gasps from the TIC as he considered the question.

The first image to present itself to the Peterbilt's processors was the same one that was tormenting him with each and every Autobot (and even 'Con) he'd been around with since Sam had brought him back. He wanted to touch the spark in front of him, to heal it, bring it peace, smooth away the damage of eons of war. Primus had given his spark a gift and it needed to be used. He was not sure how to offer that gift to his officers, soldiers, friends. And then there was the fact that every time he was with a potential carrier, he had sparklings on the processor as fervently as any of the bonded (or soon to be bonded) pairs on base. He shook off both of those thoughts. Prowl had never had a long-term lover other than Jazz. He didn't want to send his tactician into a logic-crash with an offer of a spark merge their first time together.

**"I want you _any_ way you would like, Prowl, but I especially want you in my valve."**

The frame under his hand trembled in anticipation and Prowl worked his hands up the powerful chassis, teasing wires, cables and seals as he brought his face up to nuzzle Prime's neck, nibbling on the myriad of cables there.

**"It sounds delicious,"** Prowl rumbled, the rev of his powerful pursuit engine backing up the words. **"May I prepare you first, or do you prefer to be taken?"**

Prime's optics flashed and then dimmed in anticipation. **"Do whatever you wish. I'm sure your battle computer can come up with the best tactic in this scenario,"** Prime teased as he lay back, resting his helm on his hands in an invitation for Prowl to have his way with him.

A low, deep, subsonic resonance passed through Prime's entire body from above as Prowl worked his way down, claws, glossa and lips all working on the blue and red frame. Yet it was the vibrations and EM fluxes that made the large mech's vents hitch in anticipation.

Fingers reached his interface array first, pausing to play down the thick spike that had so recently been buried in Jazz's valve. Without warning, Prowl swallowed it to the base, glossa, denta and intake working to extract every molecule of his bonded from his Prime.

Prime's groan shook the floor of the chamber. The visual alone was almost enough to push him over the edge. Prowl was, among many other things, a handsome mech. The dark gray face set off his white helm, blood-red chevron and golden optics that met Prime's own as he put his well-shaped mouth to such excellent use. The blood red of the tactician's vents moved in an almost gill-like fashion as they strained to let off heat from his systems. And then there were his finely crafted sensor wings, sweeping upward to a point at each tip, just begging to be caressed.

Optimus adjusted his position so he could lean against the wall and continue to watch while his large hands reached up and grasped the tips of those wings, both to elicit more of those delectable growls and vibrations and to keep him close. He found the sensitive appendages pressing into his hands, eager to be touched.

To their right another deep rumble echoed through the chamber, Jazz's very vocal approval at what it was watching. As possessive as Jazz was of Prowl, Prime knew the honor it was to be considered worthy of touching and being touched by the saboteur's bonded, an honor he intended to relish every moment of. A small smile crept onto Prowl's mouth as he slid his head foreword, allowing the spike to slide from his lips with agonizing slowness. His hands worked Prime's upper pedes further apart, exposing the slick valve to teasingly light claws that circled it.

"Oh Primus." Bright blue optics briefly offlined as his valve throbbed, visibly flexing and clenching in response to that touch. The scent of Prime's arousal permeated the room as lubricant began to drip from him to the floor. Optimus let his fingers dance over the sensors on the front Prowl's sweeping winglets. Despite the growing urgency in his valve, he maintained enough control to tease and torment Prowl's field with his own, lighting up every node he touched with tingling pulses.

Prowl vented hot air out of his intake onto the spike before disappearing between Prime's pedes. Sensor wings twitched and flared, their pleasure making Prowl moan as his mouth closed around Prime's valve. His glossa slipped outwards, circling the flexible metal, silicone and each sensor node around the edge.

**"He's amazingly to watch, isn't he Prime?"** Jazz's voice was rich with arousal and pride in his bonded.

A soft vibration answered from Prowl, washing into the valve he still hadn't penetrated, as he wiggled his aft invitingly.

**"You two ... will most definitely ... Primus that feels good ... make very attractive sparklings,"** Prime managed to gasp out, his hands stroking Prowl's wings with greater urgency.

**"I certainly think so,"** Jazz purred, watching as his bonded finally relented and slid his glossa into Prime's valve, swirling it around to collect a first deep taste of lubricant. **"But my sparklings always look good."**

Prime groaned, unable to respond. His hips bucked upwards as Prowl's glossa sent direct charges to several of his sensor nodes, causing his entire valve to clench and tingle. The walls of his slick entrance were pulsating with desperate anticipation. He briefly longed for Magnus, one of the few who could fill him completely, but quickly shunted that thought aside and focussed on the mech who was pleasuring him now. He shamelessly grabbed at Prowl's helm and began to frag himself on his TIC's glossa.

**"Want something a little bigger in there, boss-bot?"** Jazz teased.

**"Last time I checked you were a bit _smaller_ than Prowl, Jazz,"** Prime barely managed to tease in return.

**"True,"** he chuckled, slipping out of the pool. **"But combined, I think Prowl _and_ I might manage to stretch you a bit."**

**"Primus, I love the way you think,"** Optimus gasped, his entire frame trembling like a mechling using his upgrades for the first time at the outrageously hot visual that suggestion created in his processors.

**"You know, you want sparklings to badly, you really should get better at building up the charge for it,"** Jazz purred with a wicked grin. He stepped next to Prime's helm and leaned over to claim the mouth that had enthralled, guided and rallied all of Cybertron in its day. At the same time, he suggested that Prowl take control of Prime's hands and the attention the valve was receiving.

Prime shuttered his optics and moaned. It had been so long since he had simply received in this way. In the days before the war, being called upon to pleasure the Prime was considered one of the greatest honors that could be bestowed on a mech, and while Optimus had always been far more inclined to make the attention mutual, he would be lying if he said he hadn't enjoyed receiving what amounted to a form of worship.

**"It is no secret that I don't overload nearly often enough. You can't fault me for being eager."** Optimus answered cheekily when Jazz released his mouth for a moment.

**"I think correcting that will need to be my next big project,"** Jazz grinned back, reaching up to caress Prime's rounded finials. **"Organize the sockets on rotation ... yes, I did hear about what you said to Ratchet about resuming the presentations ... and the agreeable mechs to give you some attention from your own kind. I know Ratchet will back me on this one."**

**"You have your Prime's permission to proceed with that project,"** Optimus said with a shiver, wanting to pull both of his officers in for a heated kiss but finding he had little control over his hands that were grasped by Prowl's and little desire to rectify that situation when it was leading to such tantalizing results.

His hedonistic enjoyment was momentarily interrupted by Sam. ~You are killing me out here, Optimus. This is so fucking unfair. There is only so much Miles and I can do for one another.~

~Bumblebee, Smokescreen ... there are plenty of mechs to play with,~ Prime countered cheekily, shivering at the look his SIC was giving him, no doubt hearing the conversation from Miles. ~I haven't enjoyed 'peace talks' like this in ages.~

Prowl chuckled faintly and slid two fingers into Prime's valve with his glossa, working them all around to torment the larger mech.

He actually managed to make Prime whimper and Sam complain again.

**"Our organics need to get accustomed to mech-only time, it seems"** Prime quipped, trying to sound casual as he desperately spread his legs wider to accommodate Prowl's attention. **"There is only so much we can do with them without accidentally smearing them on our armor."**

**"Most of them haven't gotten past the honeymoon stage,"** Jazz rumbled and claimed Prime's mouth once more, delving his glossa deep inside. ::Overload for us, Prime. Let go.::

::Anything you wish,:: was his overcharged sounding reply.

Prime hadn't even realized he was holding on. It was so difficult for him to simply allow others to do for him. At Jazz's kiss and command, he felt his whole frame relax into the building charge and the show of dominance and care from his most trusted officers. A swift thrust of Prowl's fingers and he slid over the edge to an overload that, while not as intense as some, was blissfully sweet. He knew that it would only take a klik for his charge to begin building again.

**"You taste very good pleasured,"** Prowl said between licks to take a bit more of the lubricant into his mouth.

Jazz sent a databurst suggestion for what to do next and revved his engine hard as he drew away from Prime. **"Like?"**

It was the day for intense visuals, and the sight of Prowl licking him off, as well as the vivid plans Jazz sent for him were definitely ones for the datafiles.

**"If you weren't already my SIC, I'd promote you for that particular plan,"** he rumbled, pulling a hand out of Prowl's grasp to bring the Praxian up so he could taste his own lubricants on the well shaped mouth. The kiss was returned with full fervor while Prowl worked both of Prime's communications finials with his hands.

Feeling slightly devious, Prime decided to send Sam the knowledge of just what his two officers had planned for him next. He followed that with an order to Bluestreak to take over for Bumblebee, currently on duty, so the poor mech could take care of the sexually frustrated socket the scout shared with his Prime.

Jazz leaned in to nibble Prime's neck cables. **"Come, Prime. Not that it wouldn't be enjoyable to frag you all orn, but I _do_ want to spark tonight."**

**"Am I just part of your slow build-up, then?"** Prime chuckled and released Prowl so they could try out Jazz's hedonistic plan. Following the instructions Jazz had sent in the data squirt, he pushed Jazz gently to the ground, bending to kiss him deeply and positioning his valve over the silver mech's ready spike.

**"You are far too intense to be a build up,"** Prowl rumbled against Prime's audio before sliding back to watch as Jazz guided Prime down around his spike. **"Too much of you and we won't have the energy to try later."**

**"Can't have that,"** Prime said before kissing Jazz again, moving his hip joints in a circular motion to stimulate the small mech's spike sensors and the sensors on Prime's large valve. He could shrink it to fit, make it small enough even for Sam when his socket was in the mood for a visually ludicrous but highly pleasurable share, but he knew what his SIC had in mind and there was no need. He pulled himself off and turned his head to raise his optic ridges suggestively at Prowl.

**"Definitely not,"** Prowl rumbled, moving to lay on his back, his legs bent over Jazz's so they were valve to valve, spike to spike. Prime, kneeling over both, grasped their spikes in one large hand in a long, sensuous stroke. All three engines revved hotly as Optimus changed position slightly so they could both press into the slick space together.

**"Slag, that's good,"** Prime growled. Exquisite did not even begin to describe the erotic feel of his officers sliding both of their spikes into his valve. Prime wordlessly extended cables to each of them so he could enjoy the sensations of all three, shameless wanting to feel those spikes slide against one another while they stretched his valve wider than even Magnus could. The heat of their frames underneath him made the air of the oilbath chamber feel cool in comparison.

The impact of feeling not just Prowl and Jazz's sensations, but the effects of what the couple shared across their bond, nearly made him fall over. His valve clenched tightly around the two spikes, milking them as they lit up sensors in ways a single spike, no matter the size, possibly could.

**"Very,"** Jazz agreed from under him, thrusting in a flawless rhythm with his bonded. It was a skill few mechs Optimus had been with had. Bonded pairs were rarely in his berth, simply because he didn't like to come between committed mechs. Another item he really needed to rethink.

Magnetic pulses slid through Prime's chassis, drawing energy from his interface array to his spark. He gave a surprised shout and arched as overload swept through him, blinding him to everything but the pleasure for a long moment.

**"We must do this more often,"** Prime murmured, enjoying the pleasant hum of his systems as he came down.

**"I doubt it will take much to convince us, as long as we do not have important plans already,"** Prowl knelt next to him and tipped Prime's helm to the side to kiss him. **"Watching us did amazing things to Jazz."**

Optimus deepened the kiss, his initial desire to touch his officer's spark returning full force. The desire to feel the ravages of war and loss smoothed and healed rekindled in the Prime as quickly as his overload dissipated.

He broke the kiss, pulling Jazz close with one arm, his other tracing his tactician's chest plates with a questioning look in his optics.

**"You both did _wonderful_ things for me. Is there anything I can give back? I know you didn't allow yourselves to overload ... and I know why."** Prime's deep, sonorous voice had its intended affect on both of the mechs.

**"Heal him,"** Jazz murmured, speaking for his bonded when Prowl was about to refuse. **"I know you felt his desire when I did."**

Optimus felt a shiver of a very different need run through his systems and his spark. When Prowl gave a slight nod in response to his bonded's request, he knelt and pulled his tactician to his lap. The room suddenly took on a completely different atmosphere - as charged as the atmosphere had been in the Allspark temple when Prime kindled new sparks and placed them reverently in the chests of a sparklings or adult sparked mechs.

His plates spread and chamber spiraled open, waiting passively and patiently as Prowl slowly and more reluctantly did the same. As white tendrils were met by brightly colored ones, Optimus suddenly was brought back to the moment he had kindled this particular bright white spark, of the strange sense he'd had that Primus had just sent him a very old and wise being, and that it seemed almost a crime to put it into the tactical mech with no extraneous programming ... as if emotions were ever extraneous in a living being. But no spark came forth from the Allspark unwillingly, and Prime had connected with the artifact and told Primus exactly what frame this spark was destined for.

Prowl moaned softly and pressed his spark closer to Primes, allowing this perspective of himself to flow through him.

~If I had not been placed in that frame, with that programming and the tactical computer that prevented me from adapting to emotions, I would never have been so drawn to Jazz, would never have brought him back to the Autobots with me,~ Prowl reminded him. ~Even...~ his thoughts froze as they ran into the moment the bond broke. It had been reforged, but the six decaorns between the bond breaking and stasis was no more healed than when First Aid had first deemed him a danger to himself.

It was there that Prime's spark immediately was drawn, flowing into the broken, jagged places within the bright white light. His spark sought out the bits of Jazz that lived within Prowl's own spark. The amethyst strands seemed to wildly dance within the more stately, measured rhythms, adding a vigorous counterpoint to the white spark's stately adagio.

Prime's spark called out to the bits of Jazz in Prowl and with their laughing cooperation knit back together the torn edges of emptiness and loss.

A sob broke the near silence, Prowl's chassis trembled as the pain dimmed and settled. Still a memory, still loss, but no longer fed by a pain-filled spark. Then Jazz was against him, pressed between his sensor wings in support, his spark reaching across the bond to give whatever he could to help the process.

Optimus pulled Prowl even closer, acting on Primus-given instinct to gently push warm waves of energy through the white spark that like every one of their kind had been damaged and reshaped by war.

Another sob escaped Prowl, his vents hitching as he grabbed hold of the mech in front of him, nearly oblivious to who it was. His helm came down, touching the center of his chevron against Prime's forehelm and shuttering his optics. Other pains flickered up, new and old. Things that Prowl did nothing to hide but still managed to shock Prime at their depth.

A core deep sense of inadequacy, of being an outsider even among those he had been sparked with. How deeply the harsh words of others cut him, and the near-blinding rage when Jazz was the subject of that hatred. The growing desire to _break_ Ironhide for it that Prowl knew he'd never act on. Intense protectiveness of several senior SpecOps mechs as kin, even though the word didn't _mean_ anything to Prowl.

All of it was met with warm acceptance, a sense of love so very different than that which he shared with his bonded; it was the love of a creator where there had been none, the same love Prime knew Prowl would feel for the spark he and Jazz kindled together. Optimus was, Prowl realized quite suddenly, the closest mech he had to a creator. Prime wanted wholeness, peace, and happiness for what he had called forth from the Allspark, and it was suddenly completely unclear whether it was Optimus' energy flowing into the hurts and pains, of that of Primus himself. The distinction hardly mattered.

Prowl's trembling gradually calmed, his ventilations evened out. He couldn't comprehend how it was happening, understood even less why his battle computer wasn't locking up over it, and suddenly not even that mattered. A calmness he hadn't felt since he'd received his emotional protocols oozed into every crevasse of his processor and spark. Even the maelstrom that was Jazz became a kind of soothing warmth he reached out for and welcomed.

~Thank you, Prime,~ Jazz's gratitude was as intense as any emotion the saboteur knew, showing Prime in his spark what was well-known to those who watched; Jazz would do anything, including refraining from his deepest Unmaker-given instincts and desires, to make Prowl happy.

~You are most welcome. Thank _you_, both of you.~ It was clear that Prime's own gratitude was for far more than the processor-slagging 'facing, but even more so for reconnecting and healing the ties with two beloved friends. That he had been allowed to be a conduit of healing to their sparks with the energy Primus had given him left the large mech with a sense of awe and reverent love for these two sparks without whom he was certain the war would have been lost long ago. He touched forehelms with each of them in turn.

**"Kindle well tonight, brothers. I know beyond a doubt you will create something beautiful and amazing."**

Jazz smiled softly, watching as both mechs closed their chest plates and settled to a bit more normal a state. **"I look forward to introducing you. Newborns are incredibly cute. Even more than the newly sparked from the Allspark."** He turned Prowl's face to him gently and kissed him, the contact slowly deepening until Prowl shifted to press Jazz against the floor, their bodies eager as always for the other.

Prime smiled at the two, laying on his side to watch the passion that had only grown for one another over time. He chuckled when he heard the sounds of two increasingly pissed off sockets banging at the door, clearly unhappy that yet another round seemed to be starting without them.

~It isn't that I have any issues with you having mech time, big guy, but do you have to transmit every last sensation to me? It didn't help that Bee ended up 'facing Bluestreak when he showed up and shared every moment of it.~ Sam's mental voice was a mixture of amusement and sheer frustration.

~Your energy will be all the sweeter with the buildup Sam.~

~Pfft, I'm giving it all to Bee.~

~That is fine, but do not allow Miles to do so. The more keyed up he is, the more he will be able to give Prowl and Jazz when kindle tonight.~

~All we are to you guys, little organic fertility aids,~ Sam pouted.

~And spark jumper cables, don't forget that, Sam. And adorable sex pets. And in your case, Sparky, our most valued ancient relic in a cute little fleshy package.~

~You are so recharging on the floor tonight, Prime.~

A deeply frustrated groan from Jazz mingled with a wordless objection from Prowl, but a firm press by silver hands on the broad white chest plates got the larger mech to shift up, settling on his knees above his bonded. They were both venting deeply, struggling to calm down enough to walk out of the room and not immediately ravish their socket.

**"This may be for a good cause, but it is very irritating,"** Prowl actually grumbled, rocking back slightly to bring his pedes under him as he stood.

**"At least it will be over in a few joors,"** Jazz vented his own frustration and stood, careful to keep an arm's distance from his bonded. He glanced at Prime. **"I think the bath is yours. I have a party to set up for, if Sides lets me do anything."**

**"I'm surprised you let him,"** Prowl teased lightly.

**"It _is_ his brother's bonding,"** Jazz shrugged, though there was a definite glint of humor in his harmonics. **"Odds are Killblade's the only brother who'll get hitched."**

**"True,"** Prowl consented and stepped to the door. A small force shield gently pushed the two humans back so they would not be burned by the rush of hot air and intensely hot mech that was about to walk out.

The scene that confronted them left little doubt as to just how worked up the two young sockets were. Bumblebee was only just arriving. He had been far to keyed up not to work off a little of the edge with Bluestreak.

Sam and Miles were naked, sweaty, and both had a wide-eyed, nearly feral look to them.

~He's going to kill us for making him wait,~ Jazz snickered as he knelt to pick up his socket. "Think you'll survive a few hours?"

Miles reply was something along the lines of "nnnnnngguh." He glared over at Sam who was already well on his way to being taken care of by Bumblebee as the scout and Optimus headed toward Prime's quarters. Sam's irritation with Prime was apparently forgotten now that a heat-shielding door no longer separated them.

He looked back at Jazz, pouting. "No, I'm really not sure I _will_ survive. Can humans die of blueballs? Because I really think I'm on my way, and rolling around with Sam did not make things any better. We were both too distracted by what we were feeling from you three evil mechs."

"Aww, we can't have that," Jazz clicked his glossa and handed Miles to Prowl, who snaked a connector cable into the human's hand.

"Indeed, it would be most disruptive to this evening's plans were you to prematurely expire due to sexual frustration," Prowl added.

Miles snorted. "You two are far too easy to convince. Seriously, I can make it. I went 17 years without getting laid ... though ... I'm not going to say no if you insist," he held the end of the cable close to his socket with a plaintive puppy-dog look in his eyes.

"We want you to _enjoy_ the party," Jazz grinned. "Plug in, before I decide I want to get my requisite evil for the orn out on you."

"I think you already did," Miles said with a grin, plugging in. "You did have quite the overload against the wall with Prime. And can I just say _I_ want to have a valve and have both of you in it. I'm so coming back as a mech some day and finding both of you."


	70. HP26 The Naturalists 17 EB7: Party Prep

**Fandom**: Transformers Bayverse  
**Author**: gatekat and femme4jack on LJ  
**Pairing**: Jolt/Killblade, Jolt/Mikaela  
**Rating**: R for mech/female tactile  
**Codes**: Slash, Xeno (mech/human), Het, Tactile  
**Summary**: Between Mirage and Sunstreaker prepping the mechs, Sideswipe prepping Hang 10 and Jazz explaining what it all means, it's a most unusual party, even before the press arrives.  
**Notes**: Written in the Dathanna de Gray fanverse (community .livejournal .com/ tf_socket_fics)  
**"text"** Cybertronian speech  
"text" organic languages  
~text~ cable or bond talk  
::text:: comm chatter

* * *

****

Hunting Pleasure 26/The Naturalists 17/Electric Blades 7: Party Prep

* * *

Alicia absentmindedly tied her hair up in a loose knot to keep it out of the way as she looked over the crew she had gathered for a pep talk...of sorts.

"Thanks for coming. So...I've ordered a case of each of your favorite beverages to compensate you for what I'm about to ask, and I managed to talk Sides out of some of his special edible energon paint gel for you Aerials."

She grinned at them all, inwardly wondering just what their reaction would be to her request. "Mirage is going to be our supervisor as we detail Jolt for his bonding. There isn't a single mech on this world who is more qualified to make Jolt look and feel glorious than my mech. You all know his core programming is Towers nobility. A second creation noble, to be exact, and his job was to look pretty on the arm of the first creation he was built for and promised to before he was sparked. I need to ask you all to do something for me - be his servants for a day. Let him bitch at you and boss you around and don't complain. Just yes sir him and do whatever he asks. Let him be the Towers mech he was created to be, just for today. I would do just about _anything_ to give him that, after everything he has lost. And on top of that, it will mean Jolt getting to feel like he has servants for his wedding ... I mean bonding day, to pamper him beyond what he could imagine. It's something that every bride deserves."

Silverbolt and Fireflight nodded agreeably, the first already aware of what today would entail and the second too easy going to be bothered by Mirage.

"Of course, Kuhn Alicia," Jolt's socket, Kwi-pa, bowed respectfully, her newborn and still unnamed daughter secured in a backpack like contraption she called a mei tei. "Anything to make him gleam as the river moon on this most special night."

"Gotcha," Miles grinned. "Jazz already made me promise to indulge him."

Mirage's socket gave her signature warm smile, breathing a sigh of relief. She'd had to explain Mirage's temperament far too many times to other humans around the base. There were still two in the room she wasn't sure were convinced yet.

"Is it going to be ok with the two of you?" She asked her closest female friends, Sarah Lennox and Mikaela Banes. "You don't _have_ to do this if it's going to drive you crazy. He really will be a tyrant today."

Mikaela looked like she was about to rebel, but then shook her head. "It's going to drive me nuts, but it's for Jolt and I can't miss it. Just ... warn Mirage about my temper, ok?"

"It will be fine," Sarah said with an indulgent smile for her friend. "I can't quite understand it, but I trust you that it will be special for Jolt and for Mirage, and it isn't like my mech has been Miss Congeniality lately, so I should be the last one to judge."

"That's an understatement," Miles said with a snicker, though there was a bit of seriousness there too, marking the stress Ironhide had put on his forming family.

"Well, hopefully tonight will be a pleasant distraction for everyone. I really have no idea what to expect." Sarah wrapped a maternal arm around Miles and gave him a squeeze, in her own manner apologizing for what he and his mechs had been going through.

~Seems like we are ready, love. You ready for us?~ Alicia could feel Mirage's haughty excitement bubbling up through their bond.

~Yes, I'm ready and Jolt is holding relatively still.~

~How many times do you think we can get him to overload while we detail him today?~ Alicia led the team into the detailing and finishing room that was a recent addition to medbay, It contained washracks, a soaking pool for water or oil, along with many of the tools needed for precision cleaning and paint work hanging from the ceiling. Alicia couldn't help comparing it to a mech day spa.

~If you intend to make him, likely four or five,~ Mirage's chuckle was only for her. ~If you're trying to behave, once, perhaps twice.~

Jolt was standing in the middle of the washracks in his bare protoform; a loose scaffold around him for the humans. Tiny flickers of electricity danced across him as he twitched in excitement and a bit of awe at the raw, Primus-given _command_ in the mech next to him. So different from Prime, but no less demanding.

"Humans, four of you begin at the top of his head and work down. Everything that is not native to his protoform or armor needs to be removed," Mirage commanded, the first time most of those present had ever witnessed him in full noble mode. "Aerials, strip the armor down to base metal and clean everything from it."

The humans looked at each other and seemed to concur instantly that Kwi-pa was not going to the top of the scaffolding with her baby strapped to her.

"If you want a turn up there in a bit, I'll be happy to hold her," Alicia offered in a wistful tone.

"This is gonna be so much fun," Mikaela said as she began to climb, an evil look on her face.

~Well, I know of one socket who will be deliberately trying to make Jolt overload,~ Alicia commented to her mech as she climbed up on the opposite side, followed quickly by Miles and Sarah.

Kwi-pa gave a small bow to Mirage. "Is there anything that I may do to make Kuhn Jolt shine, Kuhn Mirage?"

"Begin by ensuring that his armor has no foreign matter on it," he instructed in all his imperious glory. "It must be absolutely perfect before it is painted."

"Yes, Kuhn Mirage," Kwi-pa answered with natural deference, moving over to the armor that the Aerials had begun stripping to carefully clean off any remaining paint or dirt.

The four humans found it odd looking at Jolt without his armor. He was a lithe mech with his armor; now he was almost comically skinny with half of his mass taken off. They found several tools lowering to their reach, including compressed water sprayers with various tips that appeared at the end with a touch of a button. There were also more traditional brushes, including several toothbrushes for the smaller creases and folds in his sinewy looking black protoform. Mikaela laughed when she noticed Q-tips among the options they had.

All four began using the compressed water and brushes starting on the top of Jolt's head that was now missing his protective helm. He looked so oddly vulnerable and delicate.

"How is the pressure, Jolt?" Mikaela asked as the apprentice medic began to squirm. "We don't want to hurt your sensitive parts."

"The pressure if fine," he responded. "It ... tickles. It's been ages since I've had a detailing of any kind."

"You've _never_ had one worth mentioning," Mirage added with a dispassionate look. "It will be a miracle for this crew to get everything done in time."

"I think that is a challenge, sockets." Miles looked at the sheer amount of protoform they needed to make 'perfect'. It was clear that frontliners like Jolt and his cadre had very little time to attend to the finer details of hygiene. All four responded to the challenge. The human crew was _not_ going to be the weak link if they had anything to say about it.

Mikaela was putting her medic knowledge to good use, giving special attention to every spot she knew would be sensitive on the surface Jolt's helm would normally cover. She eventually moved herself to straddle Jolt's shoulder so she could really put her whole body into the effort without fear of falling of the scaffolding.

"Mikaela," he stammered, a shiver passing down his protoform. "What are you trying to do?"

"Just detailing you, darlin'. I used to do this for a living, you know. Maintenance, custom paint jobs, and full detailing, inside and out," Mikaela purred that last few words and continued her seemingly innocent work on his audio with a Q-tip. "There's dirt from who knows how many planets here. Didn't your mama ever tell you to clean your ears?"

"Umm, urr, no?" Jolt responded uncertainly even as a low whimper escaped his vocalizer. "It's three hundred and sixty-seven planets."

Miles, Sarah and Alicia were all following the conversation closely, and before you could say 'overload' all four sockets were efficiently cleaning Jolt with far more stroking and affection than was truly necessary. Alicia was the only one who'd played with bare protoform before, and with a mental caress Mirage's direction to be sure he wasn't feeling too possessive, she turned that knowledge to good use on Jolt's neck.

"Three hundred and sixty-seven planets," Alicia clicked her tongue. "You really did need some attention, you poor thing."

"I kept myself clean," he tried to object, though it came out with a whimpered moan. "Medical..." his voice trailed off in another shudder.

"Did you even have washracks on board?" Sarah tsked.

"No," he admitted. "We cleaned by hand, or planetside. Longshot wasn't designed for long missions, or as big a crew."

"And just how _long_ was your last mission, Jolt?" Miles asked as he started to work on the back of the mech's neck with a toothbrush.

The mech's protoform felt ready to melt at all the attention and small hands, his spark pulsing visibly in his chest. "Long," he murmured, his optics flickered in bliss. "We left maybe a thousand vorns after Praxis fell. Wasn't meant to be that long, but we did more good wrecking havoc on outer bases than we would have on Cybertron."

"According to who?" Mirage stiffened slightly.

"Uhh, usually heard it from Chromia, but Ironhide said it once during a communiqué."

~Mirage,~ Alicia cut into her mech's irritable musing about how much help those Frontliners could actually have been on Cybertron. ~Should one of us polish his spark casing? I know it's really intimate, but with him bonding in public ... it isn't exactly pristine.~

The elegant mech stepped around in front of Jolt and lifted his chin with a firm hand to get a look at the chamber. He scowled. "That grimy spark chamber needs to be as perfect as when he first settled, if not better. All the internals that will be visible as well."

Though his voice dripped with irritated distain, he brushed against Alicia's mind affectionately with unquestioning approval.

~Somehow, I get the feeling Mik would enjoy that particular task,~ Alicia tried to hide her smile lest she give away how happy her noblemech was underneath the snobbery even as Jolt sputtered in response to Mirage's implicit instructions, his internals jacking up several degrees.

"Mikaela, I think the one who is closest to Jolt should polish his casing and the other internals that will show. It is far too intimate for the rest of us," Alicia suggested aloud.

"You got it," came the low and sultry response. Mikaela shifted to his front side, tapping his shoulder. "Open up the rest of the way. You're going to look perfect even if it kills you."

Jolt's optics focused on Mirage for a moment, cycling in a mixture of trepidation and excitement. The noblemech gave an impatient nod for him to comply with this aspect of the detailing.

The medic's spark casing could be partially seen without his armor, but it was not fully accessible unless the sinuous-looking black bands of living metal that made up his chest parted as they did when integrated with his armor.

"Have ... have you worked this close to a spark before?" Jolt managed to hold in the tremble as Mikaela settled herself directly in his open chest.

The mechanic looked up with a sly smile and sent a comm through their encrypted medic channel ::While I'd rather it not be public knowledge, I've worked _Prime's_ spark casing. So yes, you could say so. May I proceed? We really do want you looking perfect tonight.::

He nodded weakly, a small sound of shock escaping at her claim.

While the other human sockets continued to make his protoform reflect like perfectly polished obsidian, Mikaela took a special polishing cloth handed to her by Mirage and polished the crystal of his spark chamber with broad, sensuous strokes.

::You should let your socket feel this,:: Mikaela suggested on an open frequency so Mirage could lift the human girl up if Jolt desired it. ::It is different than any kind of pleasure we humans know.:: The human medic could hardly contain her own aching desire to be plugged in, to kiss and fondle the casing in front of her rather than merely polishing.

Sarah quickly climbed down to relieve Kwi-pa of her baby.

Jolt let out a clicking squeak that made Mirage smirk outright as the noble knelt to pluck Kwi-pa up and deposit her on Jolt's collar. "Plug her in. She should feel what skilled hands can do."

Jolt nodded faintly and snaked a cable from his neck into her hand, his medical code already overriding uncounted millennia of just jacking in at will.

Kwi-pa moved to plug in, her trembling hands making it difficult at first. Once connected, Jolt could feel that she was perfectly content to snuggle up to his exposed neck circuitry and black bands of protoform, caressing and laying adoring kisses on him as she drank in the feel of Mikaela's expert care. Both mech and human moaned in harmony with one another, her eyes closing even as Jolt's optics spiraled shut to revel in sensation alone.

**"Primus,"** he whispered, all but locking himself to avoid arching into Mikaela's touch. His core temperature was already rising quickly and minute wisps of electricity arched along his protoform, inside and out. Each of those polishing Jolt's innermost frame found their hair standing on end with the growing charge, the tingle caressing them like some sort of living aurora borealis. Little did they know how changed they actually were as claimed sockets. What tickled and tingled their pleasure centers would have been painful to an unclaimed organic. Jolt directed the charge away from Kwi-pa - he and Killblade had agreed to claim her the day following their bonding and she was not yet physically changed.

Yet there was no shortage of pleasure for her as she utterly lost herself in Jolt's own sensations. Each sweep of Mikaela's soft cloth brought him closer, drew out deeper, more resonate sounds from both vocalizer and chassis. With all the armor out of the way, one could hear what came from where, unfiltered by the complex systems and plating usually attached to him.

**"Silverbolt,"** Jolt keened softly as his frame stiffened out of his control.

Without hesitation the big Aerial stopped what he was doing and got ready to catch the mech and organics, as the medic lost control to the maelstrom of pleasure-energy raging through him. It was a good thing, too. One moment Jolt was barely standing in the middle of the scaffolding with various humans doing their best to bring him to a massive tactile overload, and the next, Silverbolt's arms were full of Jolt, and his cables were full of humans pulled safely away from the collapsing structure. The only human who remained on Jolt's frame was Kwi-pa, who with her mech was caught in a feedback loop of strong enough to take both of them offline.

* * *

High on her perch on a ventilation shaft above Hanger 10, the expansive and ever changing rec room for the Autobot base, Laserbeak found herself once more watching a perfect opportunity to melt all the important Autobots to slag slip away. Even before the mission was outlined she knew what she'd be doing. But curiosity overrode irritation this time. A _bonding_. A public bonding overseen by Prime himself. Despite Laserbeak's dislike of all involved, the concept made her twitch in anticipation. She'd watched such things, before the war, curious if her master had ever wanted such an event. Back then, he'd had the rank to be officiated by the Prime if he ever did find a non-symbiot to bond with.

The Autobots had always been far too soft about bonding. Her faction tolerated symbiot bonds like her own with her creator because it served a practical function and did not risk the life of her master. But bonds like the one that would be ostentatiously celebrated in several joors would never be tolerated. Not that they did not happen. Everyone looked the other way as far as Seeker trines were concerned. Should two warriors bond (or anyone aside from a Seeker, for that matter), and if it were called to the attention of the wrong officer, their lives were in forfeit. Better to kill them at once than to allow their distraction to cost the Decepticons a battle.

Bonding for her kind was always a private affair; only the master and his symbiots were be there. It was simply how things were done. Though it was generally a joyous occasion for all involved, few outsiders viewed it as anything important, and those tended to be the good reactions. Too many viewed it as slavery, and no amount of medical, core programming or testimonial proof would change that. It kept the law at bay, but little more. That a symbiot master could become a high priest was testament to the changing times under Optimus back then, but she felt it was far more testament to her master's will and gifts.

Sideswipe, the slightly more sane half of the sociopathic twin bladewarriors, was in rare form below, ordering the mechs and fleshbags around with the efficiency of Prowl. It would be the biggest party the base had seen (a fact that made the tiny aerial disgusted, considering just a decaorn before she'd been condemned to watch a different party that was also supposedly the biggest yet). More high grade flowed at these ordeals than the Nemesis and their decrepit base on Mars would see in a metacycle. Why her superiors never chose to attack the base when it was full of overcharged officers and warriors was beyond her. It was starting to be embarrassing to be a Decepticon, she she kept that thought to the deepest part of her processors where she could keep her musings from her master and siblings.

The Autobots were soft and ostentatious, living as though they were on a resort rather than a military base, but her own faction was demoralized and without direction with the loss of the Allspark and their leader's obsession with revenge and obtaining the fleshbag named Sam. It seemed the only thing they did any more was to raid energy production facilities so they could produce the horrid grade of energon rationed to them.

She vented in frustration, and turned her attention back to the activities below, perking up as Jazz entered looking more relaxed and at ease than he'd appeared since his bizarre resurrection. Now that was something she still did not care to think about - it only made him creepier, something that he did _not_ need any help with.

**"Hey, Sides, how's setup going?"** Jazz called out to the party's organizer as he walked toward the much larger, but far less dangerous, mech. **"Looks like all decorations showed up."**

**"Right on schedule. Now the only question is whether Sunny will be satisfied enough with Killblade's polish to let _him_ come on time. Likely to be the only time we'll see kin get bonded and he's getting sort of ... intense, even for Sunny."** Sideswipe clasped the smaller mech's arm with good humor.

**"Best thing he's ever been _intense_ about, my mech,"** Jazz actually swayed in his own excitement, his optics and sensors taking in everything he had helped arrange. It didn't matter that a solid 90% wouldn't be understood by the mechs any better than by the humans attending. The simple fact that _culture_ was coming back into their lives, culture that wasn't from the warrior caste, made him nearly as elated as what he intended to have next to his spark by dawn.

Sideswipe gave a wide grin looking around at the bustle of activity. Two cakes were currently being brought in, one a tiered creation of energon confections made to approximate a human wedding cake, the other the identical shape in miniature, edible to organics. _Both_ had been made by the SpecOps femmes and were topped with identical little statues of Jolt and Killblade kissing under an arbor of twinkling lights. Killblade was wearing a flowing white gown over his blue armor, while Jolt was dressed in a tailed tux.

**"Miles insisted on some human traditions as well,"** Jazz commented wryly as they both watched. **"He had a difficult time deciding who was the 'bride' and who was the 'groom', but in the end went with the mech who would be carrying as the bride."**

**"Good one,"** Sideswipe didn't even try to stop the bright, joyful laughter that erupted from his systems. **"What did you pick in the betting pool?"**

**"Within two weeks,"** Jazz grinned back. **"Jolt's medical protocols should stop them from trying to kindle before Killblade finishes the preparatory sequence. I doubt he'll wait much longer."**

Sideswipe excused himself for a moment to direct Hoist and Grapple where to place the platform meant for the human press, to keep them safely away from what could very well be the wildest party they'd ever witnessed. When he returned to Jazz, he placed a companionable arm around the smaller mech's shoulders.

**"Rumor has it that someone else is going to be trying ... aside from the obvious one who will likely be carrying before dawn,"** Sideswipe leaned down in a conspiratorial whisper. **"You wouldn't happen to know anything about a certain unbonded mech who seems to think his spark has certain special abilities, would you?"** The silver bladewarrior's casual tone could hardly cover his quivering excitement at the possibilities implicit with that particular rumor.

Laserbeak focused on the two silver mechs a bit more. This could be useful intel.

**"I can personally confirm that his spark came back with extras, though not that one,"** Jazz's chuckle was low, serious, yet decidedly happy. **"It's true though, he should be able to kindle with anyone who wants it. Once he announces the first success, I'm sure he's half expecting you to approach him."**

Laserbeak instantly sent that particular piece of intel to her master. One of the reasons she was on base so much these days was Soundwave's keen interest in kindling sparks now that the last of the Allspark shards were gone. She noted with a mixture of disdain and a strange twinge of something much softer that the ruthless bladewarrior was practically radiating joy at the confirmation from Jazz.

**"So who's first?"** Sideswipe purred, always looking for juicy tidbits of gossip.

**"Now that _is_ a secret, until it's announced,"** Jazz grinned up at him. **"Sorry, but you won't get it from me."**

**"We'll see if one of my special brews will loosen your glossa,"** Sideswipe patted Jazz on the back deliberately a bit to hard, noting with a smirk that the SIC could even make stumbling look cool. **"Anyhow, what _is_ all this stuff you have us putting up and decorating with? Not that it isn't pretty and all, but I've never seen anything like it in my history datafiles."**

Jazz gave a dazzling grin. **"It's _all_ of history, Sideswipe,"** he gave a spinning turn, his hands motioning to the decorations. **"Something from every bonding I've attended, invited or otherwise. The banners with the two stars and filigree are from the end of Alpha's time, when it was still a new thing and as often as not happened by accident instead of intent."**

**"Bonding can happen by accident? That's news to me."** Sideswipe's optics swept the room, swiftly pairing up those present in what would make the most hilarious "accidental" bonds.

Jazz chuckled. **"The desire does need to be there, even if the conscious choice isn't always required. All parties have to be ignorant of how to bond normally too. Those first few came from pleasure merges that went deep with both mechs wanted to belong to the other."**

**"Ok, so we aren't likely to get an Ironhide-Wheeljack bond anytime soon, no matter what I put in their high grade. I thought the explosions would be interesting."** Sideswipe looked vaguely disappointed. **"So what about those colorful swirling lights above the dais? Any meaning beyond being artistic?"**

**"A Prime's spark is a prismatic swirl of all spark colors,"** Jazz explained easily, relaxing into teacher mode that made him disturbingly happy. **"So it's a symbol that Prime, and thus Primus, approve of and are looking out for the couple. In various times it's also been an appeal for many healthy sparklings to come of the bonding."**

**"I haven't seen one of _those_ at a bonding since I was a youngling,"** Ratchet commented as he walked up, pointing at a crystal sculpture below the colorful swirls of light that picked up and refracted them in all directions.

**"My femmes did a good job,"** Jazz said with obvious pride. **"I never realized they were this artistic. It all works together, don't you think?"** Jazz asked one of the few mechs on base who had seen enough bonding ceremonies to have a solid opinion of the efforts. **"With so much lost, it seemed a good time to bring in the best from every generation. There's even some Seeker elements, though less than most."**

**"I saw them, and your femmes did an outstanding job,"** Ratchet commented, his wistful tone betraying a longing for times long gone. He quickly pulled himself into lecture mode. **"When I was a youngling, no one really knew why a crystal sculpture always graced the dais at a bonding. Looking at it now, I suspect that the way they were designed to reflect the colors of the Prime-spark motif throughout the bonding dome was likely a throwback to an older time, before the Allspark, when mechs who bonded were invited to be part of Primus' creative power, bringing to life new sparks from their own. Am I right?"** the CMO looked at Jazz with keen interest.

Jazz paused, digging around his memories for when he _first_ saw the carving and tracing its evolution in form, function and meaning over time. He'd compiled it all in the datapad 'pamphlets' for distribution to human and mech alike, but Ratchet rated a more comprehensive answer.

**"The very first was for the bonding of Crystal and Starlight,"** Jazz began, putting everything in order quickly now that the files had been accessed. **"It was a gift to Starlight's creators. I wasn't there, but I heard about it a couple vorns later. Crystal was a talented sculptor and crystal shaper, one of the early ones during Alpha's time. It was soon an indication of resources. By the time Vector came along, it was linked to creating life, like the lights above it."**

Laserbeak felt her Master's fascination with the topic being discussed as she passed the descriptions and explanations on to him. She and her siblings were well aware of how deeply Soundwave mourned the loss of so much of the culture he had once safeguarded as a high priest serving under Prime. Soundwave had officiated at many bondings during his vorns in that office, but he, like so many among the generations leading to the war, did not truly understand the culture they were about to sacrifice.

Her master had special interest in Jazz because of his long knowledge and a spark even more unique than Prime's. Jazz's spark, not dependent on organic energy, could hold the answer to freeing them from the need of organics of any sort, generator or socket.

She could only hope that her master would not take action on that interest during her functioning. She was quite certain that trying to study Jazz's spark would be suicide.

**"So what's with all the colorful banners?"** Blaster asked, his fascination with cultures of all kinds and their music drawing him in from where he'd been setting up all the Cybertronian recordings Jazz had provided him for the event.

**"The colors are for good tidings, though it was a little tough given how much some of them have changed over the generations,"** Jazz continued. **"I had to be careful to keep them with their timeframe, and went with the modern meanings in general. The artwork is a combination of glyphs and stylized scenes."**

**"They're not in the language of the Primes or Allspark glyphs, and it's not Cybertronian..."** Sideswipe scowled at the pictures on their various shaped and colored flags, banners and other bits of waving things.

Jazz chuckled. **"Actually, it is."**

**"Just not a form of Cybertronian many of us can read any longer. The form of the language we use now is a mixture of high Cybertronian and warrior caste dialects. I can read about half of what I see around here. The rest are dialects and glyph styles from long before my time."** Ratchet looked at the banners Jazz had originally pointed out, from Alpha Prime's time. **"What do the glyphs on those banners say, Jazz?"**

Jazz glanced that way, picking out the order to read them. **"The one with white text on black is an appeal to Primus. At the time, white stood for joy and black for wisdom. It reads right to left, 'Jolt honor future joins Killblade.'"**

From above, Laserbeak made sure to get close ups on every type of glyph on the room, wondering if she could get her talons on one of Jazz's pamphlets. Soundwave would want to add the linguistic history present in this room to his datafiles.

She had to admit that despite the sheer excessiveness of the party preparations, the room below her looked more like the Cybertron she remembered when Soundwave served as a high priest than anything she'd seen since. She was struck by the beauty, even as she recalled how the opulence and show of wealth was one of the things her faction had fought against. Generators had been available to every mech at no charge. Sockets were costly, the playthings of the nobility, politicians, and merchants. So few Autobots understood how many joined in the rebellion because Prime's decrees on the rights of organics also gave more rights, wealth and power to the few who controlled access to them.

Jazz continued his explanation, apparently oblivious to the musings of the Decepticon above him. **"The pink background with golden glyphs predates bonding, back when these ceremonies were more like human weddings. Just a public acknowledgment that the couple or group were in a committed relationship with the intent to produce and raise sparklings together. The pink was the color of the energon in our systems back then, while gold was a color for courage and peace in taking that step. It reads, roughly, 'Two sparks from Primus, two frames tested in conflict, one future to create the future.' It's a request for fertility and long functioning."**

The symbiot spy watched as Jazz's squishy approached the lecturing mech with a disgusting animal grin before it called out, "Hey sexy, our groom is ready. Where are we putting him to keep him from seeing the bride? We want to have them both in seclusion before the press arrive."

"Killblade will be stuck in Shimmerfire's quarters with Sunny ... why don't we put Jolt in our quarters, or Ratchet's?" Jazz glanced at the CMO.

Ratchet chuckled. "I'll take the kid, as long as he can deal with my horny female. She says she is having a 'shinygasm' just looking at him and wants to polish his spark casing again just in case he needs it."

Jazz quirked his head at that, then burst out laughing at the details Miles added. "Just remind her that the bride will be _pissed_ if his groom is too worn out before their vows."

From high above, Laserbeak cycled her optics and wondered how many times she would have to fight the need to purge with all of the flesh sacs around, doing ... stuff ... that she would rather not process, much less observe.

~ Information: valuable. Observation: required. Purging: not permitted.~ Soundwave told her firmly.


	71. HP 27, Outside Eyes 1:  Nothing Prepares

**Fandom**: Transformers Bayverse  
**Author**: gatekat and femme4jack on LJ  
**Pairing**: Jazz/Prowl/Miles Lancaster  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Codes**: Slash, Xeno (mech/human), Supernatural  
**Summary**: Two freelancers from National Geographic are among those invited to witness the bonding of Jolt and Killblade, but no amount of prep prepares you for arriving at Diego Garcia.  
**Notes**: Written in the Dathanna de Gray fanverse (community .livejournal .com/ tf_socket_fics)  
On the off chance that somebody has the weird idea we have _any_ clue about how National Geographic really works, check into reality now please. We just agreed they were a suitable organization to study the Autobots for social science. Like all other real world elements, National Geographic has been shamelessly snagged and bears no relation to its real world inspiration.  
**"text"** Cybertronian speech  
"text" organic languages  
~text~ cable or bond talk  
::text:: comm chatter

* * *

****

Hunting Pleasure 27/Outside Eyes 1: Nothing Prepares You For This

* * *

Masomakali Mwakwanjala was doing what he did best, watching. He was a quiet man of very few words, but while others might think him shy, they did not realize how keenly he observed whatever he saw around him, how he noticed what others missed, whether it was the flicker of an expression or the perfectly camouflaged creature in plain sight. His skills of observation, and of capturing his observations on film, had made him an award-winning photographer, currently working for National Geographic.

At the moment he was watching a small group of dignitaries and a gaggle of reporters, hand selected from around the world, who had arrived along with him on a flight from Cape Town where they had been assembled for their first real briefing on the aliens who shared their world. Many had already met Optimus Prime on his whirlwind public relations tour the week before, and had been allowed to come to the base to see the aliens in their own adopted home because of the openness and fairness they showed in their reporting.

Masomakali, and his long time coworker and writer, Amelia Strongheart, had not been among those who had been selected on that basis. Instead, a Cybertronian by the name of Hound had suggested that they be invited not only for the cultural event they would all be witnessing, but also to stay on to do an entire issue on the lifeforms who, unbeknownst to the majority of humanity, had shared their planet and protected them from others of their kind for many years. Apparently, Hound subscribed to National Geographic and had followed the award-winning team's work for several years.

The Tanzanian native who had grown up in New Zealand was taking photographs of nearly everything, already having been warned that the chief of security would be going through it all edit out sensitive information. It was difficult to know what _not_ to photograph - the expressions of awe on the faces of the other journalists as they watched a gigantic black mech with visible weaponry stroll casually by them, turning to nod in their direction, the mech himself, or that fact that there was a preschool-aged blond girl riding between his shoulder armor and neck. The photographer was certain that the rest of the journalists had missed the tiny girl because they were so focused on the mech's strangely-flattened humanoid face or on his visible arsenal that contained weapons larger than they were. He focused in on her and snapped a photo, and was suddenly keenly aware that the mech's glowing eyes had locked on him. Masomakali offered up a winning Tanzanian grin and held up his camera for the mech to take if he wished. The giant creature grunted, and then moved on.

Breathing a sigh of wonder, the photojournalist turned his attention to a famous anchor from one of the major American networks who was interviewing a human whom his guidebook said was the Interspecies Relations Coordinator for the base, a young blond man who did not look like he could be much older than 20.

"This is Ryan Wilson, reporting from a small island at an undisclosed location somewhere in the tropical latitudes. I, and a few select others, have been allowed on the Autobot Base for a ceremony that is the first of its kind on Earth. With me is Miles Lancaster, a civilian who is the Interspecies Relations Coordinator for this base, which if I understand it, is actually an internationally recognized nation with both human and non-human citizens, isn't that right, Miles?"

The young man looked at the camera, completely comfortable in the spotlight. "That's right, Ryan. The international leaders from the United Nations who first created treaties with the Cybertronians granted them this island as their own nation. Since they are here long term to protect our planet, it was felt that they should not have to live as refugees among us. There are a number of us humans who have been granted citizenship here."

Masomakali focused his camera on the back of the casually dressed man's neck. His shoulder length blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and the intricate, obviously alien piece of technology was clear for all to see.

"How is it that you came here, Miles?" Ryan asked smoothly, offering the young man the option to tell as much or little of the story as he wished.

Miles gave an easy smile. "I was among a small group of civilians who were offered work here because we already knew about the Cybertronian presence on Earth. It was safer for us to be here, and if we were going to be here, might as well put us to work, right? I was hired in communications under Blaster, the dude you spoke with on the phone on your newscast last week. For some reason our second in command and head of Special Operations thought my skills would be better used designing and running a multi-species rec center and planning stuff both organics and mechs would enjoy. Basically, I'm the party guy on base. It's my dream job."

Masomakali did not miss the slight change of expression on the young man's face when he mentioned the alien officer. Looking in his guidebook, he wasn't surprised to see that the young man was what was referred to as a socket-symbiot to the mech he mentioned, along with the third in command, a tactician named Prowl.

"What does the head of Special Operations have to do with social activities?" Ryan asked what everyone was thinking.

Miles laughed. "Well, once you meet Jazz, you'll understand. He's the head of SpecOps, but he is the unofficially official Autobot morale officer. He is the one who created the pamphlet that will explain the ceremony and all the decorations you'll see in a bit, and he cuts a rug better than any mech in the known universe. Sorry Blaster."

Ryan nodded in easy acceptance even when he didn't fully understand, an important trait for a live reporter. "The pamphlet says you are a socket-symbiot to two Autobots, Jazz and Prowl. What does that mean in a way our viewers will understand?"

Miles again gave a relaxed smile, clearly at ease with the topic that was one of the more controversial aspects of the alien presence on Earth, other than the fact they were embroiled in a civil war that had spanned galaxies, of course.

"The Cybertronians are as alive as any living sentient being, and they have what we would call a soul or life force that is physically visible under their chest plates. It is called a spark. They need energy to sustain those sparks, and the energy comes from the emotions and sensations from sockets like me. In simple terms, Jazz and Prowl are my family, and the happiness and pleasure that brings me sustains their sparks."

"It sounds mutually beneficial, but don't you feel secondary to beings who live so long and are so much larger and more powerful?" Ryan asked politely but with keen interest. "From what I have gathered Jazz and Prowl have been together, married in our terms, for longer than humanity has existed as a species."

The young man paused for a moment, smiling softly before answering with quiet confidence.

"Let me see if I can put it a little differently. There are two people who have loved each other on a level we could hardly comprehend, enough to literally share their souls with one another, and they have been together for longer than human beings have existed. Of all the humans they have met, they chose _me_ to share the remainder of my life with them and experience intimacy on a level I never could have known without them. Because of the changes that happen to humans when we socket-bond with a Cybertronian, I'll continue to share my life with them at least ten times longer than I would otherwise, barring accident. How could something like that ever diminish me? They are my lovers, my friends, my teachers, and every day I feel like my life is that much bigger because they invited me to share in theirs."

Miles looked to the side, a cheesy smile lighting up his features. "And there is my mech now, here to let us know that Optimus Prime is ready for us inside."

"Right-o," a sleek silver mech, much smaller than the black one who had walked by earlier, grinned and greeted the gathering in the same moment as he walked up to Miles and scooped him up with the easy grace of familiarity on both sides.

The adoration and arousal that bloomed on Miles features at the contact was not lost on Masomakali, though he had doubts many saw it, focusing on the motion itself. He wasn't as sure in reading the Cybertronian's features, but he suspected the reaction was quite mutual.

"If you'll follow us," Jazz motioned them all as he turned, keeping his steps very deliberately short and slow to make it easy for the smaller humans to keep up.

"Hey Mas," the photojournalist's partner, Amelia, called to him as they made their way into what their electronic pamphlet called 'Hang 10', an expansive facility that apparently had been transformed for the occasion. "I'm so excited I feel like a little girl going to Disney World for the first time, only better! Did that interview just wet your appetite, or what?"

"Definitely," he grinned at her with a relaxed excitement. "This place is incredible. Did you see the little girl riding on the big black one ... Ironhide?"

"Oh my God, yes." The dark haired, rubenesque beauty hooked her arm companionably into his, leaning over with a conspiratorial wink. "I also saw him stare at you and _growl_ for taking the her photo. What info have we got on that one?"

"He's the Senior Weapon Specialist and the bodyguard for Prime," he said smoothly, eyes and camera on everything as they followed Jazz. "Who must be _him_," he breathed as the giant's aura settled over him, all but demanding obedience with barely more than a look.

It was difficult to take in the spectacular setting, colors, and artwork that filled the hall with an even more breathtaking presence calmly regarding them before kneeling down and bending low in order to speak.

"Welcome," a deep baritone voice came from the Autobot leader, vibrating the very air around them. "My name is Optimus Prime. Thank you all for joining us for such a momentous occasion. I am going to be giving you a brief overview of what will be happening in a little less than an hour, and after that, Jazz will give you a close up tour of the decorations before you settle into the observation platform."

Amelia shivered against her partner with a barely constrained sound of arousal at the raw, natural _power_ before them. All around them the press settled into the familiar, attentive silence of a briefing. Despite who was speaking to them, the format was comfortably familiar. Scattered among reporters and photojournalists where a handful of select politicians, military officers and business moguls from around the world.

"Tonight you will be witnessing the first Cybertronian bonding ceremony that I have officiated at in over a million years, and the only formal, public ceremony that we have held since before our long war began. You will see something that even the younger mechs on this base have never seen, as many were not yet online or were sparklings and younglings during our Golden Age. Two of our mechs, who are long time friends and lovers and served in the same cadre have requested permission to bond."

Prime leaned back a bit, taking stock of those before him for a moment and allowing the dazed humans to catch their breath before continuing. "As you are likely aware, our two species have some surprising similarities as well as profound differences. While both of our kinds share deep friendships, passionate emotions, fall in love, mate, even produce offspring, the ceremony you will see tonight will resemble traditional weddings from your various cultures very little. Jolt and Killblade will do more than make promises to one another and to myself and Primus, our creator - vows as you might say. They will, literally, join their sparks in front of all who are gathered with the intention of bonding for the remainder of their existence. It is the most sacred and intimate act our kind can share. When they bond, their physical sparks will merge into one, and when they part, a portion of Killblade's spark will reside in Jolt, and part of Jolt's with Killblade's. Each time they merge from this point on, more of their very soul, as you would call it, will remain with their sparkmate."

There was a silent murmur through the crowd as minds from many different backgrounds processed what had been said and compared it to the various briefings they had received.

Masomakali couldn't help but focus on the way that voice resonated through him and the way the small silver mech, Prime's second in command, almost seemed to sway at his leader's presence. Though everything he'd been shown very carefully avoided equating the Prime with God, he had little doubt that to these people, he was one at some level. This was someone of incredible power, both personal and political.

When the gigantic being continued it was impossible not to pay attention.

"Once the formal bonding ceremony is complete, you can count on witnessing quite a party. We Cybertronians, and the humans who have joined with us as our socket symbiots, are far more open with our affection toward one another than many modern human cultures are accustomed to. Sharing pleasure and physical intimacy with one another in an uninhibited manner is normal for our kind - to us, hiding such actions seems strange, almost as though you are ashamed of the joy your own bodies are capable of.

"Obviously, because of the cultural sensibilities of the places you have come from, this ceremony and the party following will not be aired live, but will be broadcast in an edited form more appropriate to each of the regions you represent. However, you who are gathered here will undoubtedly witness things that could make you feel uncomfortable. There will be mechs on hand on your platform to answer any questions you might have as the ceremony progresses, as well as one of our human sockets. You are free to ask them any questions you wish about what you see this evening."

A writing pad was raised near the front of the crowd.

"Yes, Ms. Sundel?" Prime inclined his head.

"Are Cybertronians the only alien race on Earth?" the Australian asked politely but with the conviction to get her answer.

The gigantic mech chuckled at the question before responding. "If there are other aliens on earth who are no danger to your planet, it is up to them to reveal themselves if they wish to be known, and it is not my place to do so. However, if there are aliens on this planet that are a danger to you, you have my assurance that we will protect your species and this planet as fervently as you would protect your own homes and families."

Masomakali watched as Prime gazed at the reporter who had asked the question with a look that could go straight to her soul.

"What I _am_ free to tell you, however, is that humans are not the only species we currently are in symbiosis with. There are organics who have traveled here with members of our kind, and one of our scientists has many aliens, sentient and non-sentient, in stasis on his ship, waiting for a time when we can create a home for them on one of your neighboring worlds because their worlds are no longer inhabitable."

"Then the dragon-thing was real," she murmured, shocked that he'd responded so openly.

"Yes, the creature you saw is a highly intelligent flyer with remarkable abilities named Caurver. He arrived on the same ship as the two mechs who will be bonded tonight. Other questions?"

Amelia raised her hand from where she sat beside Masomakali. "Forgive the ignorance of this question, but do the others of your kind, the Decepticons, also have bonding ceremonies? I guess what I'm really asking is if your enemies love the way you do?"

"They have a military ban on bonding, so no, they do not have ceremonies. Any who do bond would keep it a secret from their fellows," Prime's sadness flowed in his voice, in the very energy of the room. "They do love as we do. A handful of my officers and warriors are former Decepticons. We are the same race, no matter how divided we have become."

"Mr. Bhatnagar," Prime called on a well known journalist from India.

"You are taking quite a risk by allowing humans to see this aspect of your culture. There are many humans, especially from more conservative religious sects, who are already condemning your socket relationships because of their sexual nature. How do you expect humans will respond to the details of this ceremony and celebration once they are known?"

"Yes, it is a risk," Prime agreed. "I expect it will have much the same response as came from the knowledge of what socket relationships are. We could have maintained both secrets with relative ease, however the best foundation for any alliance, any friendship, is openness and honesty. We would hide as little as possible of our culture from you, just as you hide little of your culture from us."

Prime looked over the multiple raised hands. "Unfortunately, this will have to be the final question before I turn you over to my First Lieutenant for the cultural tour. I look forward to speaking with again tomorrow and taking your questions at leisure before your flight leaves. Ms. Xiaoshan," Amelia and Masomakali both cringed when Prime called on the well-known Chinese investigative reporter.

"Thank you for your gracious invitation, Mr. Prime. Will you please comment on allegations that the recent coup in Burma was in fact orchestrated by the Autobots, and that Prime Minister Hla Cho Mya Myiang's is your socket?"

"We orchestrated nothing in Burma," Prime said firmly. "We responded to a request for aid by the legitimate leader, as we will do for any government who requests our aid for humanitarian needs. While Prime Minister Hla Cho Mya Myiang's is not my socket, I have shared with her, as I did with several other world leaders this week who wished to better understand that aspect of our relationship with humanity.

That final revelation caused gasps around the crowd. Nearly every hand went up for more questions, the potential for highly gossip worthy information on world leaders a tantalizing desire for any reporter, no matter their ethics or open mindedness.

Reporters were suddenly shouting out demands to know which leaders Prime had 'shared' with as he put it so easily. A cameraman sitting close to Masomakali muttered something about politicians being willing to sleep with anyone, while Ryan Wilson, the well known American evening news anchor called out, "Aren't you concerned that some may view that as an attempt to control the minds of our planet's leaders?"

"It is _always_ their choice," Prime rumbled, letting his aura make it sink in to everyone present just how insulting the question was. "It is against my fundamental nature to coerce anyone by sharing. Autobots do _not_ abuse those who give us life."

"Now," Prime centered himself quickly, though with apparent effort. "These are Eject, Grand Slam, Raindance and Rewind," he introduced each of the almost human sized mechs that came up to the front so the visitors could see them easily. "They will answer questions about the ceremony, the activities and individuals you will see, as will Sarah Lennox, the wife of our Commander of Human and Organic Forces. They will meet you in the viewing platform and suite."

"So you're all mine for the next hour," Jazz grinned in absolute delight, smoothly taking charge from his Prime with far less decorum than most were used to seeing. "I'll field questions too, but limited gossip."

"Why do I feel like we just severely disappointed god himself?" Amelia murmured in Masomakali's ear as the tour began.

"Ah, Prime's not a god," Jazz said cheerfully, looking directly at her with a smile. "But he is our kind's spiritual leader."

"Ah sweet Jesus, I didn't mean for anyone to hear that," she whispered, her face turning intensely red.

It was obvious how quickly the group relaxed in this particular mech's presence. His good humor, easy laugh, and even his size seemed designed to put them at ease. The Tanzanian photojournalist realized quickly that this aspect was part of his SpecOps skills. Those at ease were far more likely be open to manipulation, and despite Prime's denial, Masomakali was sure that manipulation was happening at some level, just as would be among human beings.

"So Jazz," an arts and culture reporter from the BBC spoke up. "Your socket said you were the best dancer on base, and even among the mechs of the known universe. Do you agree with his statement, and are we going to get to see you dance tonight?"

"Oh, he's absolutely right," Jazz's grin widened considerably, always happy to talk about his skills. "Horizontal and vertical. Only one I don't do is skydancing. Ya gotta be a flyer to pull that off. Keep an eye open and you'll see me at my best. I have a mech to get _very_ riled before the party winds down if I'm going to kindle tonight."

Confused expressions met Jazz's statement.

"He's trying to get knocked up," his human companion explained helpfully from his shoulder where he was openly caressing the intricate looking structures that came from the top of the silver mech's head.

"And ... how does that work, exactly?" Amelia asked with intense curiosity. Masomakali watched her head spinning, likely wondering if she could get permission to document the act in their special.

"Careful," he whispered to her as quietly as he could, knowing full well how bold she could be when she wanted a good story.

Jazz grinned at her, not a shred of hesitation or embarrassment about discussing the subject and with incredible excitement flowing in every movement of his body. "For us, pleasure goes hand in hand with an increased amount of energy flowing in our systems. The more intense the arousal, the more energy there is when we overload. Orgasm as you'd put it. If a very intense mutual overload happens during a spark merge and both mechs want it, it's possible to create a new spark."

"Please don't," the photographer whispered again, knowing full well that she would, and it would either get them the most amazing story they'd ever done together or they'd be voted off the island before the bonding ceremony even began.

"Forgive me if this is a rude question, but would you be open to allowing us to document that process, if we were _really_ unobtrusive?" Amelia used her most innocent tone followed by her sweetest smile that had won them entrance to more highly secret cultural ceremonies than Masomakali could recall. The other reporters were staring at her in shock.

"I thought you wrote for National Geographic, not National Pornographic," the snarky cameraman standing near them muttered as a murmur ran through the group.

"You'll be recording far more recognizable porn tonight that she would recording a kindling," Jazz teased him, then turned his attention, and a far more serious look, to Amelia.

There was a brief pause during which Masomakali watched a myrid of emotions flicker across Miles' features, from concern to excitement to lust and a flick of concern again before he grinned and shivered in excitement

Jazz nodded. "Prowl's agreed, though you'll have to be remote. Prowl and I are both far too protective of the other's spark to have anyone other than Miles in the room. You'd probably get a better story watching it with me later. You'll be able to mingle for the full party and I'll be able to explain a few things, and show you the views you don't see naturally. Much of Cybertronian communication happens outside your audio and visual ranges."

Amelia's face lit up like an Olympian taking the gold medal. "Thank you, Jazz. You won't regret it. Our coverage will be very tasteful, and you will be giving quite a gift of understanding to our planet."

Masomakali gave Jazz and the young human a deceptively shy smile as his partner briefly buried her face in his shoulder and whispered "yes!" giving a tiny fist pump of triumph.

Jazz gave her a knowing grin. "It's an aspect of our lives I'm happy to share. There hasn't been a sparkling in our ranks since Bumblebee was found. This will be the first sparkling on Earth, the first Prowl and I have."

Jazz's response was met with an excited murmur and along with several questions shouted out simultaneously to the flashing of numerous camera.

"How many are you going to have?"

"Do you want a mech or a femme?"

"Is anyone else going to have a sparkling?"

"When can we meet it?"

"Will you and Prowl program it, or does it come preprogrammed?"

The silvery mech grinned in delight and answered each question in turn. "It is incredibly rare for more than a single spark to be created at a time with mechs our size. Though twins are known, they are almost always split-spark twins. Gender is not inherent in Cybertronians in hardware or software, so the new spark will make up its own mind on which to be called as a mechling, the equivalent of a teenager, and can change it at any time. We usually refer to them as mech until then. Both mech and femme are terms we've adopted into our society since encountering several races that have gender.

"Shimmerfire, the largest of the Autobot Seekers, is currently carrying a clutch of six. Several other bonded couples are planning to try within the next few decades. I'm afraid most of you won't be alive when any of them are born. Gestation is normally between forty and sixty-five years, depending on conditions and how many are kindled, and can be as long as a century. With Shimmerfire and myself, since the frames are built internally and the new sparks will spend the second half of their time being carried in them, they will take coding primarily from the carrier with additions from any mech that links to us during that timeframe."

"A forty year pregnancy? I hope you don't have to deal with morning sickness," another photographer with a prominently swollen belly commented.

"No, but we do have odd cravings at times," Jazz winked at her with a flash of his visor. "And it _is_ uncomfortable in the later stages."

Masomakali noticed with interest that Jazz had seemed to differentiate himself and the Seeker (the large aerial form of their species, if he recalled correctly) from the others who would be trying to 'kindle' as the mech called it.

"Ask him if there is a difference between the way he and the Seeker form frames and how the others do so, and why," he murmured to his outgoing partner.

Jazz faced Masomakali with a smile, not waiting for his partner to shout out the question. "I carry differently because I have an extremely old base design, built before anyone worked out how to get the new spark to mature next to their carrier's spark so it could be separated and placed in a frame of the creator's design. Shimmerfire is a Seeker. They refused to change to the spark-only method."

"Your way sounds almost ... organic, not to be insulting or anything," the pregnant photographer commented. "That is going to be a shock to folks at RAT news."

RAT's commentators were insisting that the Cybertronians were simply expertly programmed robots who were being controlled by some master alien race from afar, likely preparing the earth from invasion that only their favored political candidates would be strong enough to stop. Their reporters were noticeably absent.

"It's not insulting," Jazz assured her. "Though Seekers don't like being reminded of it. It is organic, in many ways, though it was for practical needs at first. We didn't always have factories or the skills to build frames so Primus made sure the sparkling would have one by having the carrier fabricate it from their own protomass and parts."

"So, all this talk about Primus is not simply mythology? You all really do believe that you were created by a superior being or god of some sort?" This question was asked quietly by a Jesuit priest who wrote for the Catholic Reporter. He had been present when Optimus had been given an audience with the newly consecrated, highly progressive Pope whose election had recently shocked the world. The young priest was as shocked as anyone that he had been invited along.

"Primus is _very_ real," Jazz didn't hold back the shiver that passed through his frame. "I met Him after I was killed at Mission City, and He let me come back. He is the source of all sparks, and we all return to Him when we leave these frames. He didn't create the universe, as you believe your God did, but He did create the first of us."

Masomakali was sure he saw fear in Jazz before it was carefully contained. Miles definitely displayed distress.

Jazz's explanation was met with stunned silence. It wasn't everyday that journalists met with a resurrected alien, who, if the pamphlet was accurate, was older than their galaxy, much less one who believed ... who knew beyond a doubt that their god was real.

None of the briefings had mentioned that this particular mech had died. The photojournalist watched as the group slowly took the information in, likely trying to figure out how to report this tidbit to their readers and viewers.

"Do you know why you were sent back?" the Vatican reporter asked with a look of keen curiosity.

Jazz got himself completely together, at least on the outside, and focused on the young man. "A lot of the time is fuzzy, I was out for almost two years. Most of what I remember is pain like nothing I've known and the need to get back to Prowl. Why I was allowed to return when so few others have over history, I don't know for sure." He gave a cheeky smile. "I'd like to think it's because I'd be more trouble to try and keep than to return."

Jazz's humor had its intended affect, nervous laughter erupting from the group as they tried to collect themselves after the mind-blowing revelation. Conversation bubbled up between the journalists and officials as everyone began talking at once about what had been revealed to them in just a few short minutes.

Only Masomakali kept his eyes locked on the interaction between Miles and Jazz. The young man's movements had gone from sensual to soothing, his hands stroking the mech's neck components, a look of equally mixed love and concern on his features. There was also no missing the way several cables snaked out from Jazz's neck and collarbone area to return the contact.

He also didn't miss the larger mech, though smaller and lighter than Ironhide, who appeared around the edge of a building. Gleaming white, glossy black with red sides to his chest, he was sure this was Prowl. Jazz gave his mate a smile and the larger mech melted into the evening darkness.

One thing was obvious, Jazz had in the course of a short tour become the most intriguing mech next to Optimus Prime, perhaps even equal to him in terms of eliciting journalists' desire to dig deeper and find out more.


	72. DDG All Storylines: Bonding Celebrations

**Fandom**: Transformers Bayverse  
**Author**: gatekat and femme4jack on LJ  
**Pairing**: Jolt/Killblade, Hound/Mirage/Alicia Rodriguez, Jazz/Prowl/Miles Lancaster, Jolt/Killblade/Bluestreak/Yevette, Bluestreak/Prime/Amelia Strongheart, many others  
**Rating**: NC-17 for mech/mech/female sticky, tactile, spark  
**Codes**: Slash, Xeno (mech/human), Het, Bonding, Tactile, Spark-sex, Sticky, Voyeur, Exhibitionism, Public Sex, Orgy, Supernatural  
**Summary**: The first bonding on Earth draws in far more than just every Autobot; it's a public relations event of epic proportions.  
**Notes**: Written in the Dathanna de Gray fanverse (community .livejournal .com/ tf_socket_fics)  
On the off chance that somebody has the weird idea we have _any_ clue about how National Geographic really works, check into reality now please. We just agreed they were a suitable organization to study the Autobots for social science. Like all other real world elements, National Geographic has been shamelessly snagged and bears no relation to its real world inspiration.  
**"text"** Cybertronian speech  
"text" organic languages  
~text~ cable or bond talk  
::text:: comm chatter

* * *

****

Hunting Pleasure 28/Electric Blades 8/Sharp Shooters ?/Outside Eyes 2: Bonding Celebrations

* * *

Masomakali kept smiling at his partner as he took photographs of everything and especially everyone from their spot on the observation platform as the residents of Diego Garcia began gathering for the celebration. The other reporters were at least as fascinating as the mechs. He and Amelia kept trading comments on who was likely with who, be it mechs, humans or a combination. The mechs were both easier and harder. They were open with their affection, but many touches that he thought were romantic may not have been, or the couple were simply a one-nighter for the celebration. He doubted any of them would retire alone tonight.

"I wonder if they have beds, or do they even need to rest?" Amelia asked somewhat randomly, writing frantically on her digital notepad, one of the few pieces of high technology she'd fully embraced. She still had her written notes, but there was no more transcription at the end of a day.

A deep, but obviously organic voice answered her from behind and above.

"They need to recharge, and most do so on berths, which are like a beds, though some prefer to do so in their alt modes. They can recharge sitting up or even standing if they need to, but they have to leave a few more subroutines on to do so."

Everyone looked up and several gasped at the silvery-blue skinned lizard-like creature that was sprawled across a rafter.

"Caurver?" Amelia asked at barely more than a whisper, her deep green eyes widening even further as the iridescent sapphire and emerald feathers that crowed his head and flowed down the spine of his long neck, presumably all the way down his spine to fan out at the tip of his tail.

But it was the iridescent wing feathers that held most's attention.

Masomakali got his camera up and began taking pictures of the dragon who's body, without neck or tail, was a bit longer than he was tall, then to the reactions of those around them.

The large, spectacular alien gracefully glided down to settle on an empty spot on the floor. He hoisted himself up so his forelegs were on the rail of the viewing platform, allowing him to see the human reporters eye to eye.

"Yes, I'm Caurver. You must be Amelia Strongheart of National Geographic?"

She nodded quickly and gathered herself and her wits quickly. "Sorry for staring," she glanced away, though not my much.

"It's all right," he rumbled, a sound that vibrated through those nearest him. The corner of his sharply pointed muzzle-like mouth quirked up. "You have seen a great deal today, and I am eye catching."

Masomakali alternated taking close-ups of his partner's expression and the otherworldly creature calmly regarding with her.

"So, how long have you been on Earth?" She finally managed to ask as she made her way closer to him.

Caurver smiled encouragingly. "Roughly six months, I believe," he offered a three-fingered clawed hand, the thumb loose in a strangely familiar offer to shake her hand. "I came with the mechs who are bonding tonight."

Amelia came closer and reached out her own hand, a look of absolute awe and joy on her face as her own small hand grasped the much larger claws in her first alien handshake.

"You must be very happy for them," she managed to say, her voice practically a whisper as Masomakali snapped a photo that was almost certain to win some sort of award (probably along with the one he got of the preschool girl on the giant black mech's shoulder).

"Yes, it's wonderful to see mechs beginning to claim their lives back from the war," he nodded, his crest flickering lightly as their handshake ended. "It is a sad thing when those who fight to preserve life give up on having one of their own. They're both good mechs."

"How did you come to be a part of their," she paused to recall the right word, "their cadre, Caurver? If you don't mind my asking, that is."

"I don't mind at all," he chuckled and settled a bit more. "I was studying teleportation magic and made a mistake. A rather large one, from what we have worked out. I shifted across dimensions instead of space, and ended up a few lengths above a battlefield they were half of. The Decepticons saw me and fired. The Zerstörerz didn't. Lacking a way home and on a planet that I probably couldn't survive on, I went with them. I decided to stay."

"I think I've died and gone to fanboy heaven. You are not only from another planet...you are also from a different dimension?" another reporter asked, moving closer.

"Are you _with_ any of the mechs?" a third boldly asked, her eyes wide.

"No," he shook his head slightly, causing his feathers to ruffle. "I've shared at times, but I haven't found one I want to stay with. Mechs and magic seem to not get along well when they get too curious about what I'm doing."

"What about going home? Don't you want to be among your own kind?" another curious journalist asked as Caurver continued to completely steal the attention of everyone on the platform.

"Sometimes," he admitted. "It is where I was born, where I grew up. I still have friends there. Yet among these people I have full rights. I am a _person_, not a freak at risk of being killed or my wings torn off by any of the ruling races that see me. So not often anymore."

The dimming of the lights alerted them that the ceremony was due to begin. During their conversation, the vast space had filled with a mind boggling array of mechs and humans, along with at least two other non-human aliens that Masomakali had spotted and already shot close ups of.

Caurver politely excused himself to ascend once more to the rafters, joined by two brightly colored avians the size of small people.

Two of the smaller mechs and a blond woman approached, drawing Masomakali's attention. The photojournalist noted with a twinge of excitement that the woman was holding the same small child who had been riding on the black mech earlier.

"But I want to watch with Hidey," the sleepy looking girl complained. "I don't want to be up here."

"But this is the best seat in the house," one of the small mechs said to her with a grin, holding out his hands offering to take her.

"Mechs are always preferable to mom on these kind of occasions," the woman noted with good humor as her daughter practically jumped into his arms.

"I'm Sarah Lennox, for anyone who didn't guess," the woman introduced herself with a charming smile and relaxed manner. "The blue femme is Raindance, the blue and red mech is Grand Slam. We'll answer any questions you have about what you see below."

"And who is this little one," Amelia smiled at the little girl who still looked rather annoyed at being in the company of so many humans, though she had curled up in Grand Slam's arms with obvious comfort.

"I'm Belle, and I'm going to be a warrior like Hidey, Daddy, Mommy and Chromia," she said with obvious pride, though returned to pouting immediately after. She turned her attention back to the blue and red mech. "Do we get to learn the baby's name soon? Mommy let me hold her today. It was funny calling her 'baby.'"

"Yes, Jolt will name her before the bonding," Grand Slam told her, then looked to the general gathering. "It is custom among the baby's mother's people that the father name a baby girl. Since she did not have the father of the baby or her father or brother to take the role, her mech will do so."

"Jolt's socket is one of the older girls in the group who were taken by the Myanmar army. Her baby was due, she had no family left and very few prospects beyond living on the charity of the neighboring village," Sarah explained further before they all turned their attention to what was happening on the dais, lit by a swirling rainbow of light on the wall behind.

Optimus Prime had come to the front, obviously having been polished to mirror-like shine in the past hour. A woven metallic silver cloak now hung from two ornaments on his shoulders, each with a different Cybertronian Glyph. Without even trying, his regal baring silenced the room and drew all attention to himself.

"What do the glyphs holding his cloak mean?" Amelia asked quietly, her eyes locked on the charismatic leader and barely breathing even as her hand kept writing and drawing on the tablet in her hand.

Raindance began to quietly explain, "The first is an ancient glyph for Primus, and the other means 'given'. The Prime is Primus' given form, his spark unique among all Cybertronians because it closely resembles Primus' own spark." She paused for a moment, and Masomakali was certain she was communicating with someone to give the proper answer.

"Jazz says that the cloak has been passed on from Prime to Prime since Alpha Prime first had it made and laid it over Prima for her blessing before her spark extinguished. She did so, and stood one final time to put the cloak on his shoulders. He also says it has been lengthened quite a lot over time because Primes are now far larger than they were in the beginning."

"Wow," Amelia breathed. "To still have an artifact that significant after so long a war."

The audience fell silent as Prime raised his hands.

"On this most joyous of occasions, we have the additional boon of a new life born to our society." He looked at Jolt, who was gleaming within an inch of his life. "Jolt."

Masomakali noticed that the electric blue mech was not only practically glowing from his polish, but he also was covered in silver filigree of various designs and glyphs that had not been part of the medic's paintjob in the pamphlet. The shining mech came to stand beside his Prime, completely dwarfed by the presence beside him. Then a young Asian woman dressed in some sort of traditional tribal garb walked forward from where she had been standing next to a similarly garbed girl. She was holding a newborn, who other than being cradled in soft cloth, was wearing no clothing. The girl knelt in front of Prime, looking even tinier, if that were possible, holding up her child.

"In her culture, she would first give the baby to the Shaman who would ensure the baby had not been possessed by evil spirits during her time without a name," Raindance explained quietly as Prime took the infant, no larger than the tip of his finger, and looked intently at it, cradled in his huge hand.

Prime turned to Jolt and handed the child off with an approving nod.

While the infant did not look quite so tiny in the smaller mech's hands as he cupped them around her cradled her to his chest, she was still mouse-sized in comparison to the sleek mech.

"Daughter of Kwi-pa, from this moment onward you are La Habu," he said proudly, smiling at his socket. The photojournalist would have given anything to have been able to capture Kwi-pa's expression, but she was facing away from them.

"It means 'Tiger Moon' in his socket's language," Raindance explained.

They all watched as Jolt knelt and offered the infant to her mother, who bowed deeply before she took her and disappeared into the crowd. As Jolt stood, it became apparent he was trembling faintly. It was a small sound, compared to the general noise of all the living, shifting machines in the room, but the clicking of armor plates was distinctive in its uniqueness.

At some silent signal, Jolt prostrated himself on the dais and his optics went out. The room darkened so that only the swirling rainbow of lights above the dais and the dozens of optics in the room could be seen. An unearthly symphony of sound began; some form of Cybertronian music.

Masomakali could feel that the sound went far beyond the range of human hearing, both in the lower and higher registers. A moment later he realized at that moment that the music came from every mech present, including the two small ones on the platform with them. The closest human analogy would have been Mongolian or Tibetan throat singers, but the vibrating, unearthly resonance of that human sound paled in comparison to the sound that enveloped him and shook the very air.

The music slowly became louder as the lights gradually raised, likely for human eyes since the photographer was certain the glowing optics had no issue seeing the dark. A second, larger metallic blue mech was now present, also prostrate on the floor before Prime, polished to a nearly glaring shine and covered in swirling golden filigreed glyphs and designs that must have been created by a master artist with Jolt's designs clearly in mind to harmonize with.

It was a breathtaking sight, and the first display of the incredible authority the Prime could command when he wished, so very much at odds with Jazz's casual manner earlier. Masomakali glanced around, his camera active, as he sought out the silvery mech for his reaction.

Near the front, Jazz was enveloped in the arms of a larger black, white and red mech with small wing-like extensions. Despite the less than joyful pose, he snapped the picture, taken by the mournful yet comforting image. He suspected that they were a couple, one of many, that had not had a public ceremony, no celebration of their union, because of the war. It made this occasion, no matter how joyous and hopeful, a painful reminder of what they would never have.

The singing took on a different tone as four mechs approached Prime and flanked him. The largest, easily recognized as Ironhide, stood just behind and to Prime's right. Another heavily armored mech, only slightly smaller with a slate blue and green camo pattern took the mirror position on his left. It took him only a moment to realize that it was Chromia, a femme. The realization made Jazz's earlier comment about gender not being inherant to their design strike home. He doubted any human would pick her out as a femme.

A pair of mechs with identical frames, one silver and one gold, but distinctive heads, took positions just in front and to the side of the two mechs on the floor, effectively forming a box of protection around the three within. The two in front extended deadly looking blades, silver and gold crossing in front of those within while their other blades were held toward the sky like terrifying guardian angels.

The music again shifted, becoming louder, less chant-like and more rhythmic, some mechs modulating the sounds in their frames and the movement of their armor to create unearthly percussion. Jolt and Killblade rose to a kneeling position in front of Prime, both visibly shaking, then the humans present took a collective gasp as Prime's chestplates split and a brilliant multi-colored (and likely multi-spectrum) light poured out from between them, nearly identical to the swirling rainbow of light on the wall behind, but far brighter. As the god-like mech's chest continued to open, Masomakali could see that the light was behind some sort of glyph covered silver device with a glowing white crystal at its center and tapering into two curved spikes at each end. The crystal seemed to capture the light of Prime's own spark, sending beams in every direction. The photographer tore his eyes away to capture on film the awed, almost trance-like expressions of the Cybertronians in the room, most all of whom were attempting to position themselves to catch some of that light on their frames before moving so another could do the same.

At some unspoken signal the music abruptly ended, the silence allowing the photographer to hear a different song that seemed to come directly from Prime's open chest. It was an eerily beautiful multi-harmonic tone.

Prime allowed the stillness to settle on those assembled. Even the small children present were awed enough to be completely silent, and it didn't even occur to the reporters to whisper questions to the mechs with them. They were far too engaged with what was happening. The only sound other than Prime's spark was the hum of mechanical systems and the distinctive rattling armor of the two mechs at Prime's feet, which slowly came to a stop. Masomakali suspected that something about the great mech's aura calmed them, or perhaps commanded their stillness.

Optimus's rich voice spoke ... or rather sang in what must have been Cybertronian. It was amazing enough to experience that voice speaking in a human tongue. The subharmonics and overtones that came from him as he spoke his own mechanically musical language was enough to bring everyone present to their knees, human and Cybertronian alike. It would not have even occurred to Masomakali not to join them.

Prime then took the silver and crystal device from his chest and held it high above him. The white crystal became increasingly bright until Masomakali could no longer look straight into it. He then focused in on Prime's open chest where a multi-faceted crystal chamber that held the swirling colorful light moved up and forward, and then irised open.

A single mech began to sing, the voice soaring sometimes higher than a human ear could hear, and then descending into registers so deep they were felt rather than heard. Masomakali looked around to identify the singer, and realized it was Jazz.

"He is singing an anthem that was performed at Alpha Prime's bonding. He is the only mech from that time still living. The anthem was sung at bondings throughout their long history, although it evolved and changed." Sarah whispered into his ear before moving on to explain to others, while the two small Cybertronians did the same.

Another mech then took up the song, still recognizable, but with new subharmonics and a very different tempo. His singing was almost a counterpoint fugue to Jazz's. The photographer searched the crowd and found that the new singer was a lightly armored, elegant blue mech with gold filigree similar to the silver designs painted on Jolt, though clearly much more permanent. He was standing directly next to much larger army-green mech, leaning against him for support. A human woman in an exotic gown that showed far more of her body than it hid was on the green mech's shoulder. The fabric covering her round breasts was completely translucent. Masomakali focused in on her and took a photo of the tears running down her face and cables from both mechs joined into one, connected to the socket on her neck.

Several other mechs joined the song, when suddenly the warriors around Prime closed in as his chestplates audibly slammed shut. From another part of the hall, an energy weapon of some sort flashed, shooting at something in the rafters. Motion erupted in the room as every mech present suddenly were putting humans under them or even inside of their chestplates. As Raindance ordered the humans near her down to the ground, Masomakali saw a gray mech with small wing like structures take a second shot with a different sort of weapon, followed by the dark form of an avian looking Cybertronian falling toward the floor. It was easily caught by a large red mech standing next to smaller red and white one who had sparks flashing from horn-like structures on his head, his weapon still drawn and the air around him steaming from the initial shot.

"I said get down!" Rainmaker ordered the photographer, pushing him to the ground with the others, her weapons online and pointed toward the rafters.

"What is going on?" Amelia asked from her huddled, crouched position, one created from too much familiarity with surviving war zones while still seeing enough to get the story. "What was that?"

"Laserbeak, Decepticon spy," Raindance answered tensely, her attention fully on what was above and around her, paying only enough attention to the humans she was guarding to make sure they remained down.

Again, as if by an unspoken signal, the room palpably relaxed, weapons were stowed, and mechs moved out of their defensive positions. Optimus moved from his position up front and approached the large red mech and the smaller one he was now holding, a large chartreuse mech having taken custody of the Decepticon, apparently giving the avian medical aid.

Optimus spoke softly to the two mechs, the larger one visibly comforting the smaller whose horns were still sparking. Something Prime said seemed to calm the smaller mech, who opened his chestplates enough for a blond human to emerge. She stroked him chest as his plates closed behind her, saying something as well.

"We have been given the all clear," Raindance said quietly. "Optimus is attempting to calm Red Alert so he and Inferno can remain for the rest of the ceremony. He has also instructed Ratchet to allow Laserbeak to watch the ceremony immobilized with her weapons and comms offline. He said that there are no factions at a bonding ceremony," the femme added in an incredulous tone.

"What will happen to Laserbeak when it's over?" Amelia asked with a mixture of awe and utter fascination.

Masomakali remained quiet as he stood and took his place at the railing, but kept his eyes on as many of the mechs and humans as he could, noticing who calmed down quickly and who seemed fidgety. It struck him that even the civilian humans were already relaxing along with the mechs as if this had been a minor event. Something to react to, then not worry about.

"That will be Prime's decision," Raindance explained softly, "If her only purpose in being here was to transmit the ceremony to her master through her bond, then she will likely be let go. Prime is trying to make peace, not extend the war."

The photographer heard something in her tone that he could not quite place. A wistfulness and yearning.

"Do you know her?" he asked.

"Yes," she said simply. "She is a symbiot, just like Grand Slam, Rewind, Eject and myself. Our masters were very close before the war. Her master was a high priest under Prime. None of us could understand why he chose to serve Megatron."

"Perhaps you will find out soon," he smiled at the femme, filing away the question of why she chose to be a femme for later.

"Perhaps," she agreed, though it was evident she wasn't very certain.

Everyone watched as the red and white mech who's horns had been sparking settled down and the electrical discharge stopped. With a small nod Prime returned to the dais and focused on the two blue mechs who returned to their kneeling pose they'd broken from at the sign of danger.

Masomakali couldn't help but to smile as Prime began the ceremony as if nothing had happened. His aura and charisma were able to return the hall to the sense of quiet awe immediately. The red and blue mech again raised the silver and crystal device in the air, and his chestplates opened. Simply seeing Prime's spark was enough to bring any who remained restless back to the almost trance-like state all had been in before.

Jazz began the ancient Cybertronian song again, and it was, if possible, even more hauntingly beautiful than before. The second mech joined him, and then, just at the point that the ceremony had been interrupted before, their voices were joined by several others, again singing variations of the same rising and falling music that all fit together as seamlessly as a perfect mathematical equation.

"My master and two of my siblings are singing now, along with several others," Raindance whispered in obvious pride. The photographer filed away his questions about why she had a master and how they were all related for later.

The song came to a solemnly joyful end. Prime spoke again in his song-like language the vibrated the very air. This time, he repeated his words in English.

"Killblade of the Autobots, bladewarrior, kin of Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, spark from Primus by means of the Allspark, called forth by the Matrix. State your intention."

The larger blue mech responded in an emotion-laden, yet rough and guttural sounding Cybertronian, looking directly at Prime's spark as he spoke, his hand reaching out to the smaller blue mech for courage. He then repeated his words in English.

"I offer my spark to Jolt, my lover, my friend, my perfect mate, a brave and brilliant mech, a skilled warrior and gifted healer. If Primus deems me worthy and Jolt will have me, I will reveal and give all that I am to him. I will leave a part of my spark within his, and carry a part of him within me, that we would be two beings who are also one, until all are one."

Watching the mech's hands, the photographer saw them clench tighter together, their frames beginning to shake again as Prime repeated his question to Jolt, first in Cybertronian, then in English.

"Jolt of Polyhex, engineer, warrior, and apprentice medic, first and only creation of Quark and Volt, spark from Primus by means of the Allspark, called forth by the Matrix. State your intention."

Jolt in turn responded in his own language and then in English. The contrast between the three versions of the same language was obvious even to untrained human ears. Jolt's was less song-like than Prime's, but more musical than Killblade's. If Prime's language were a symphony, Jolt's was a folk song, while Killblade's was a martial call to battle.

"If Primus deems me worthy, and if my deepest love will have me, I offer all that I am to Killblade, the truest, most pure of purpose mech I know, my perfect match, my balance, my dearest friend and passionate lover. I freely give him my spark, to leave a part of it within his own and take a part of his own within me, that we would be two beings who are also one, until all are one."

Prime placed the matrix within his chest to the side of his spark and knelt, placing a hand on each of the mechs and spoke once again, his words causing everyone to tremble in both fear and anticipation.

"Then show me the purity of your intentions," he said after in English, and Masomakali was certain that the translation did not even capture a shadow of what had been said, for all he was sure they'd done their best.

Killblade also knelt, though not as much as Prime, leaving Jolt standing and all three spark chambers roughly even as the warriors opened their chest plates, and then the crystal chambers containing their physical souls. Against the rainbow of Prime's spark, Jolt's was a rich, vibrant red and Killblade's pure white. Despite all the pictures he took, Masomakali desperately hoped this was being recorded by the Cybertronians so he'd have a chance to see what they saw.

Next to him, he felt Amelia trembling as they watched small fingers of lighting, not unlike what was seen with a lightning ball desk toy, reached out from their sparks towards the others. "I'd get one of those weird things in my neck if it meant I could feel this the way they do," she said with a sigh-like whisper.

The swirling rainbow of light that was Prime's massive spark seemed to encompass the other two, and the smaller mechs both stiffened before almost falling into Prime's great chest. There was a flash of light accompanied by ecstatic keens from the two blue mechs, along with a far lower note from Optimus that was reminiscent of a deeply resonant groan.

Then slowly, Prime moved away from the connection, finally closing his own chestplates when his spark disengaged, leaving the two sparks intent on bonding reaching desperately for one another. Red and white strands strained, motivating their frames to move closer. Metal came close to metal and Jolt leaned a bit closer to claim Killblade's mouth for a kiss that dampened the moans as their sparks touched without the Prime there.

Both of their frames seemed to give out, Killblade lowering himself to the floor with Jolt on top of him in the most beautiful example of making love the photographer had ever witnessed. Jolt arms were shaking as he held himself just above his lover, strands of their sparks intertwining further as Killblade's hands stroked the winglets on Jolt's back, encouraging him to lower himself. The smaller mech did until he was practically resting between the larger mech's chestplates, the light between them now a bright pink of the joined sparks.

As much as he didn't want to, Masomakali forced himself to look around, to catch the reactions of mechs and the humans familiar with this. Arousal, awe and desire were all prevalent, though no one moved. A few mechs looked away, though, bothered by the sight. One in particular, a sky blue giant with large wings swept down along his back, turned his face towards Masomakali, an litany of loss and pain set there for any to see. Another one, built much like him but even larger and shimmering all shades of red and pink, put a hand on the sad one's shoulder and squeezed lightly.

Sarah was suddenly kneeling beside the group of journalists clustered together. "Dogfight's bonded disappeared after a strange weapon was fired in a battle. He can feel that Blaze Master is alive, but nothing more. No one has any idea what happened to him."

The photographer nodded in understanding, and turned his attention back to the pair locked together under Prime's solemn watch and the protection of the four mechs surrounding them. Both of the blue mechs visibly stiffened, the smaller arching his back so the single joined spark was suddenly fully visible between them. It then brightened and pulsed, sending ripples of energy dancing over their frames as their alien calls of ecstasy echoed throughout the hall.

It seemed like an eternity and no time at all before the smaller one all but collapsed against his lover, his newly bonded, who didn't seem to be in much better a condition. Their desperate efforts to suck in enough air to cool themselves became the dominant noise in the room, though Masomakali was sure many of the mechs present had louder internal sounds as well.

"Is that typical for mating?" Amelia asked Sarah when the blond woman came close.

"It is how they would create a new spark, if that is what you mean - that is if the charge is high enough and they desired it." Sarah explained, "but if you mean interfacing, they have many different ways. What you saw is the most intimate form, but they can overload simply from being touched the right way on sensitive parts of their frames or the protoform underneath. They can connect through cables and stimulate one another emotionally and physically, or they can have a spike or valve overload, which looks pretty much identical to how we human do it."

"Wow," Amelia murmured. It had been in the pamphlet, but this made it so much more real. Very much more real.

All attention focused on the dais again as the bonded mechs shuddered and began to move slowly, disentangling themselves reluctantly, their spark chambers already closed but kissing as intensely as when they merged.

When the two finally managed to break their kiss and sit up, Jolt said something quietly to Prime that caused Killblade to wrap his arm around the smaller mech in deep affection. Optimus gave a sovereign nod, his optics lit brighter. The couple got to their feet, never loosing contact with each other, and stepped off the dais for Prime to take to the center.

There was a sense of hushed expectation as he spoke in Cybertronian to the assembly. Masomakali carefully scanned to room to catch the reactions of the mechs and humans who could understand what was said before it was translated into English. Shock, exaltation and many hugs, kisses and signs of affection passed between various bonded pairs with pats an gentle shoves towards the front coming from those around them.

"Jolt has requested we take this occasion to publically acknowledge and celebrate all the bondings that we could not when they occurred because of the war," Prime translated for the visitors.

A murmur ran through those assembled as a variety of mechs came forward to stand before Prime. Three humans stood just to the side giving one another smiles and hugs. Masomakali immediately recognized Miles, along with the woman who had been hidden inside the red and white mech's chestplates, and the woman with the revealing clothing who had been on the large green mech's shoulder.

Optimus smiled and let his gaze fall on the couple with longest standing bond, the only one that had been celebrated. "Silver Shadow, Starjumper," he held out his arms for the two femmes the size of Jazz to join him in the center of the dais as he opened his chest plates and allowed the colors of his spark to wash over the silver and black femmes. "The oldest bonded pair on Earth, who chose each other before the war. I did not officiate your bond then. I would offer you the blessing of Primus now."

The two femmes gave respectful nods, holding each other a little closer. The photographer had a sense that these two, of all those in front, did not particularly enjoy being in the limelight.

Prime knelt, placing his large hands on the femme's shoulders, touching his helm to each of theirs in turn, before standing to call forward the next pair.

"Sonic and Convergence," two bird-like Autobots flew from the shoulders of a tall, almost skeletal-shaped mech. Optimus held out his arms for them to land on, again bathing them in his spark's light.

"While we lost much with the war, one thing I am glad to leave behind are the attitudes which would lead to a symbiot not being given a bonding ceremony or party. While I know you celebrated with your master and siblings, I would offer you the blessing of Primus and recognition from your fellow soldiers which you are due."

The two avians, so much like the one shot earlier, trilled and nuzzled each other affectionately even as they turned to nuzzle Prime as well, crooning their pleasure and thanks.

As they few back to the tall mech, the one who was referred to as their master, Masomakali wondered if they had been thought of as slaves or pets in the time Prime spoke of. He glanced at Raindance and Grand Slam, hoping he would get a chance to ask them soon.

"Inferno and Red Alert." Prime again held his arms wide, his spark swirling in such a mesmerizing way it was difficult to look at anything else. "Bonded when we still had hope the war would be a short one and Cybertron could return to its golden age. Yours was a bonding that signified so much hope, not just for the future, but for each other. Few others have done so much to calm the darkness in the other's spark."

The giant red mech that had caught the falling Laserbeak and the smaller red and white one who'd fired the first shot stepped up and bowed deeply to Prime. Inferno drew Red Alert close to him and then into the core of the light shining from their leader's chest.

Prime appeared to take a moment longer with these two, speaking something softly to them before touching their helms with his own. Red Alert quickly scooped up the blond woman standing to the side before they returned to their place among the others.

"Jazz and Prowl," Prime spread his arms for his first and second lieutenants, and the journalist wondered if he was imagining a slightly different tone in the giant mech's voice, almost playful, though still warmly solemn. There was a deep sense of familiarity and comfort between these three as Prime's spark shone on the mechs. Prime knelt and embraced them much as a loving father would.

"Always my most cantankerous couple, one which defied not only all odds but all of Cybertron and beyond," Prime's voice was warm, smooth, with a bit of humor and just enough seriousness to make it sink in that he wasn't joking on any level. "One mech designed to destroy from within and as old as time," he briefly touched his forehead to Jazz's. "The other never intended to know love or hate, much less the passion he has displayed for our cause," he lightly rested his forehead against Prowl's bright red chevron. When he looked up, it was to face his comrades. "If these two mechs are capable of living and loving, there is still hope for all our kind to live together once more."

Masomakali and Amelia shared a meaningful look. They didn't need to say anything. They had both just agreed that their purpose in life, at least for the next several months, was to get the story of the two mechs who were affirming their bond. Even if they were forbidden from publishing, they were going to _know_.

The photographer pointed toward the two humans watching from the side of the dais. The young man was openly crying, his arm around the dark haired beauty who stood slightly taller than him, smiling as small tears fell down her face. She kept glancing at the slender sky blue and white mech who had yet to be out of arm's reach of the large army green one that had been carrying her before. Every time she looked up, her smile bloomed.

Sarah leaned on the railing between the two journalists, whispering. "You have no idea how much this scene is putting the base at ease. There has been tension between those three for too long. I don't now what changed, but thank God it did."

"How much trouble?" Amelia asked, never taking her eyes off the dais as Jazz claimed a tender, lingering, passionate kiss with Prowl. It was returned just as intensely in the light of Prime's spark, and only reluctantly broken to allow the next couple to step forward.

"When you have been at war as long as these mechs have, I think peace brings its own kind of stress," the blond woman commented quietly.

Masomakali looked to the towering, weapon covered black mech who had been holding her daughter earlier. He was still in his protective stance, guarding Prime. For as old as Prime said Jazz was, the black one _looked_ ancient. His expression was difficult to read as he stoically did his job.

"How is _your_ mech?" Amelia asked quietly.

Sarah followed both of their looks and gave a soft smile. "Better, much better," was all she said.

They both returned that smile and focused on the next couple, a pair of felines that actually _looked_ like different genders, a lion of brilliant orange and red and a lioness in ghostly black.

"I wonder what other forms they have taken? If they are always feline, or if it depends on the local wildlife wherever they are." Amelia whispered as Optimus knelt the two put their forelegs on his shoulders, nuzzling his face in the light of his spark.

"Steeljaw and Blacksnap. Unlike your siblings, the lack of celebration of your bond was not due to prejudice against symbiots, but because you bonded in the midst of one of our most difficult campaigns, a bold and hopeful move, true of your own sparks which have always remained courageous and hopeful no matter the circumstances."

Raindance came close. "They've always been similar in design, a predatory quadruped as you describe it, no matter what the exact nature of their armor is. It is what they are. To choose a different look would hinder their ability to function as intended."

"Would you be willing to explain more to us about being a symbiot when you have some time?" Amelia asked.

"Is the Cybertronian word for symbiot when Prime refers of your siblings, and symbiot when referring to sockets the same words in your language?" Masomakali added.

Raindance gave an honest smile to both. "I would enjoy and appreciate the chance to speak to you about it. Too few of my own kind take the time to understand our culture and our unique kind of bond. It would be interesting for you to have our master present as well, and perhaps one or two of my non-bipedal siblings, so I will speak with him and then schedule a time with you while you are on the island.

"As to the words," she continued to whisper, "they are the same base glyph, but pronounced quite differently depending on the surrounding glyphs and sub-glyphs within it. By the tonality and register it is spoken, one knows what type of bond the speaker is referring to. I can explain more about that later." With a nod she redirected their attention to the winged mech approaching Prime alone, a very different expression on his face.

"That's Dogfight. His bonded is MIA. We know he's alive, but nothing more. He's likely in a different dimension," she explained the grim expression. "It's painful, an intense grief, to be separated that completely. Nearly as bad as loosing one to death."

Dogfight stood, centered in the glow of Prime's spark when two other of the giant mechs, both with large, obvious wings, stepped up to join him, though they kept the majority of their frames outside the primary glow. Each put a hand on Dogfight's faintly trembling wings, only to try and catch him when he fell to his knees, his face down and wingtips sliding as close to the floor as mechanics allowed, and possibly further.

Prime knelt down placing his helm against that of the winged mech, speaking quietly in what was clearly a different dialect of the language than he had been using before. He then spoke to the two gigantic winged mechs who spread the wings and frames so that Dogfight was shielded. The glimmering one, the largest of the three, also slid long, curved arm-blades out as she and the other guard turned to face outward.

Through the gaps, Masomakali could see that Prime had pulled the shaking flyer to his knees, and that Dogfight was now also baring his spark, its glow a much weaker sky-blue.

Masomakali glanced to his right and saw that Sarah was quietly sobbing. The entire hall was still as sounds of a spark merge took place, accompanied by wailing keens from Dogfight and the scrape of clawed fingers against solid armor.

Then the two gigantic winged mechs who stood guard began to sing, and even untrained human ears could hear the in the music the soaring freedom of having mastery over the winds of space and atmosphere. Within moments other voices joined theirs, quieter but the song the same. It seemed that everything with wings had joined in, at least a dozen voices raised in the eerie song of power. Even the two symbiot avians added their voices.

"What is happening?" Amelia whispered despite her amazement.

"I don't understand completely," Sarah whispered. "Prime offered a cleansing merge with Dogfight. Ironhide says that it is a new ability since his spark returned to his frame. It will help ease the pain of a bond stretched to the brink. Shimmerfire and Tread Bolt are singing an anthem of Vos, the Seeker city on Cybertron. Skyfire was the third voice. All of the Aerials have joined them."

Amelia nodded and kept her questions quiet until the merge seemed to be over, the light blue Seeker closing his chestplates and making a shaky effort to stand. She had no doubt that the only thing that got him to his feet and kept him there was raw determination.

"Is there normally tension between Seekers and Aerials?" she whispered, trying to work out who was what without resorting to the guidebook.

Sarah paused for a moment, clearing asking someone for details she didn't have. "Depends on which Seeker and which Aerial." She looked out over the assembled mechs, and pointed to the Aerialbots clustered together near the south entrance.

She again paused, her head cocked as though she were listening to someone.

"I commed Jazz. He says that Seekers breed the old fashioned way, forming the protoform in their own frame. To be a Seeker, one must be kindled and carried by a Seeker. However, a Seeker can pass on some of its coding without carrying, and the result of that would be an Aerial, though there are also Aerials with no Seeker core code at all. The Aerialbots, I have heard, deny they have any Seeker heritage, and that is a source of tension between themselves and the few Autobot Seekers. From what I understand, there is little doubt that they do have some Seeker coding, which must be passed on by a Seeker. Most Seekers followed Starscream to the 'Cons, and the Aerials were created as a response, so the last thing they want to admit is Seeker heritage. Skyfire," she pointed to the towering mech holding a mid-sized mostly white mech with glowing head-fins, "has Seeker heritage and is proud of it. He has never denied it, and apparently has had Seeker mates in the past. It is hugely significant that every single mech who flies joined in the song to support Dogfight. In essence, every flier here claimed kinship with him."

"A show of unity they don't usually display," she nodded thoughtfully, watching as Dogfight escaped the limelight with his frame-kin and the last couple stepped up to Prime. The larger green one stood, but the elegant sky blue and white one slipped to his knees and bowed his head in a display of submission and loyalty entirely too reminiscent of a young knight before his king.

Without prompting he rose to his feet and stepped into the embrace of his bonded.

Optimus gathered both close to him, the light of his spark reflecting spectacularly on the gold filigree and highly polished armor of the lithe blue and white mech. Masomakali knew without it being explained that the elegant member of the pair must be from some sort of nobility, whatever that meant in Cybertronian society.

"Hound, you chased your stealthy noble fox for so many vorns before he allowed himself to be fully captured, yet I know he captured you the first time you met face to face. For you, Mirage, bonding was both sorrowful and sweet. True love rather than coded loyalty, yet also an admission that what you had been made for no longer existed. And for you, Hound, bonding put you in a position of power you had never sought, yet I have never known you to use if for anything other than love. While so much has been lost, what you make together is creating the future of our kind, and the matrix and my spark are certain that hope will be embodied in the next spark you kindle."

Masomakali and Amelia shared another look. This was another story they needed to get. Even if they didn't know what cultural boundaries had been crossed by these two, it went without question that they were tremendous ones.

There was a pause, and Mirage opened his mouth, only to find it claimed by his bonded as he was drawn close to the larger mech. As Mirage seemed to meld into the contact, Hound's hands began to wonder. The sound of highly polished metal on metal wasn't quiet the squeal the human visitors were used to. These beings had designed themselves to be intimate with each other after all.

"I think they are starting the party early," Amelia commented with a grin, her cheeks turning a little red. The photographer halfway expected other pairs to follow, considering the palpable charge in the air. Yet while he saw plenty of caressing and affection, most of the attention remained on the two in front who were making intimacy into an artform.

While Masomakali on some level remained analytical watching the scout and the noble, taking note of the way blue and green fingers slipped between gaps in their armor to elicit sharp, electronic sounding moans and keens of pleasure, he could see that most of the rest of those present, human and mech alike, were completely caught up in visual feast and were starting to respond through touches, caresses, and the sound of humans breathing more heavily accompanied by fans kicking in.

"I commed Alicia, their socket," Sarah said with a smile before they could ask. "Public claiming of one's bonded was very important among the nobility. Mirage, at a very basic level, needs and wants to belong to another, to be utterly claimed by him. I think Hound must have commed the others present and asked them to witness something deeply meaningful to Mirage. For Mirage not to have had a public bonding ceremony must have been especially difficult due to his background. No one here is going to object to a good show, and it will just make what follows that much hotter."

Sarah sounded breathless as she explained, and the photographer noted that the slate blue mech who had been standing gaurd was teasingly caressing the large black one as they looked on next to Prime. He wondered if Sarah on some level could _feel_ what her mech was feeling, or if she was simply responding to the stimulating sight.

He was likely the only one who realized that Prime and the guards were slipping back into the crowd, leaving the couple the center of attention as Mirage writhed, gasped and whimpered, sounds largely muted by the much larger frame that pressed him to the floor. He'd watched many creatures mate, more than a few pairs of humans, captured many of those moments on film. Each was erotic, but this one was unique. It was the first time he was watching a mating where conception wasn't a likely result.

He knew Amelia's mind was flashing back to all the societies she knew that had such displays, comparing them to what she was witnessing both on the dais and in the audience.

Even calling it mating was somehow odd. While these beings could reproduce, it seemed that the vast amount of what humans would describe as sexual activity was purely for pleasure and could not result in a new life. Yet, it was clearly a coupling, and became even more so as a large phallic metal cable was released from the crotch of the larger mech, slightly higher than where a human penis would be located.

"So ... why do they have those if this isn't how they create life?" Amelia asked, sounded both highly aroused and amused.

Sarah gave a quiet laugh. "You see that mech over there?" She pointed to a lean, slightly taller than average mech with fins coming out from the sides of his head that were currently flashing deep blue, nearly indigo lights. He was being held from behind by the gigantic flier called Skyfire. "He not only invented these things we have in our necks, he also invented interfaces that mimic the way many organics mate, that can transform to the proper shape depending on the partner involved. They were meant to be a means of pleasuring an organic for energy, but they became _very_ popular among the Cybertronians of both factions as a means of interfacing with one another."

"I wonder how much of their current culture and design is like that, picked up from elsewhere," Amelia murmured.

"Jazz can answer a lot of that," Sarah said. "He was around well before the first alien contact. There's probably a lot he _won't_ say, but plenty he will."

Raindance turned toward them. "We are natural mimics, obviously. Not only so that we can hide in plain sight, but also to put the organics we are among at ease. The Decepticons have far less organic-looking features in their root forms. It is in our nature to mimic and blend in to the culture we are currently among."

"Which is why our base currently looks like a futuristic auto show featuring prototypes of the most expensive sports car makes on the planet and your holoforms all look like super models," Sarah added wryly.

"All right, we blend in with flair," Raindance conceded and laughed.

Amelia chuckled with a grin for the small femme, but kept her question of when they had become natural, seemingly all but instinctive mimics for Jazz. Instead she turned back to the erotic display, watching as Mirage moaned, meeting Hound's thrusts and seeming to relax even as the pleasure built. It really did look like he was receiving something far more important than the obvious pleasure.

It pained her that most people would never witness this, and most of who would, would see it as porn and not the celebration of two lives joined together in a union as holy as any marriage.

As she continued to watch the erotic scene unfold to its crashing (and loud) climax, Masomakali was busy studying the people around him on the viewing platform. Some of the reporters and dignitaries appeared morbidly fascinated, a look of shock, horror, mixed with arousal that they would likely deny to the grave. Others were deliberately turning their heads, as though to give the mechs who desired no privacy just that. Strangely enough, the young priest who wrote for a Catholic daily was among those undisturbed by what they were witness to, watching with a soft smile.

It notched up Masomakali's opinion of Optimus Prime's ability to look past the obvious and see what was inside people. For all his experience, he would never have expected a Vatican reporter to be so open to such an expression of a sacred union.

"You are welcome to join the party, or watch from up here," Sarah caught his attention briefly as Hound and Mirage left the dais. Their sexual-mimicry bits were tucked away, but both their upper legs and groins were glistening with lubricant.

"I will likely watch, though I might watch from below as well as above." The photographer looked toward his partner who was clearly itching to take the room by storm, at least to find those who were willing to talk.

He glanced back toward the green and blue mechs, and saw them nearly attacked by their dark haired human who had a nearly feral look.

"That's Alicia, their socket," Sarah chuckled. "She probably felt every touch and how wants _her_ turn to get off. Enjoy watching, Masomakali," she said his name smoothly, somewhat to his surprise. "The stairs are there," she added with a motion for Amelia and several others who were eager to socialize in the reporter way.

Amelia looked at her lightweight linen suit and suddenly wished she had something on far more fitting to the wild party that was starting to get rolling out on the floor. Her shapely black dress that showed off the best of her curvy, full figure would have been nice. Perhaps there would be a next time.

The room was quickly being transformed - extra catwalks and platforms to put humans at eye level to most mechs if they chose to be, the dais shifted into a dance floor where a far different sort of Cybertronian music had started to vibrate the air and move her in a nearly primal way, and food and beverages, along with substances clearly for the mechs appeared on tables of appropriate heights. She even spotted two wedding cakes with hilarious cake-toppers of the newly bonded mechs dressed as bride and groom, the larger of the pair being the bride. The larger of the two cakes was made out of some sort of glowing substance.

"Hello," an excited, slight-too-fast voice that reminded her of a young man greeted her from several meters up. "You're Amelia Strongheart, yes? I'm Bluestreak. Are you enjoying your night? That was the most incredible thing I've ever seen."

"Baby blues, give the girl a chance of to answer ya," a feminine voice said from his shoulder as Amelia took in the mostly gray mech with small wing-like structures nearly identical to those on Prowl, and a bright red decoration of some sort on his forehead, also like Prowl. He had a wide smile on his humanoid metal face. A muscular, very dark skinned African American woman was sitting on his shoulder. Her hair was braided in cornrows, with the small braids gathered into a sexy pony tail. Even though she had on a sparkling red evening gown with a slit all the way up her thigh, she had a distinctly military air to her.

"I'm sorry, everyone calls me Bluestreak here because I talk so fast," he looked suitably chagrined. "This is my socket, Yevette," he added quickly. "She's the best organic shot on base."

"I bet she it," Amelia smiled at the tough-looking beauty on Bluestreak's shoulder, and then back up at him. "Lucky me, I was looking for someone who wanted to talk. And to answer your questions, yes, I'm Amelia Strongheart. I'm a freelance writer who is currently on long-term assignment with National Geographic. I'm quite sure this has been the most exciting and amazing night of my entire life." The writer's heart was doing cartwheels in excitement at her luck.

"Want to come up for a ride and get something to eat and drink, and maybe we can find a spot to sit and answer some of your questions?" Yevette offered with an affectionate stroke of the red wing shaped ornament on Bluestreak's helm. His engine revved sharply at the touch even as he knelt and offered his hand flat on the ground for Amelia.

"Sure," the voluptuous journalist smiled warmly at them and climbed onto the offered hand, grabbing hold of a finger on pure instinct as she was carefully lifted and he stood.

"No mech has ever dropped a human, Miss Strongheart," Bluestreak added, bringing his hand up to his collar strut for her to climb onto. "I can't even count how many protocols we have to protect organics from inadvertent injury."

Amelia's face was beaming. She was actually _sitting_ on the shoulder of an extremely friendly gigantic alien who _liked to talk_.

"After seeing how quickly everyone was either behind or inside a mech earlier, I don't see how I could be any safer. You were the mech who shot and stunned the Decepticon, right?" Amelia asked, getting warmed up.

"Yap, that was me," Bluestreak absolutely beamed at the recognition and made his way to the human refreshment tables, overly aware of Amelia's balance. "I'm one of the best snipers the Autobots have, second only to Prowl. Smokescreen could be at least as good, but he doesn't like to focus that much on one thing. When they first brought me in, no one thought I'd amount to anything, but Jazz and Prowl vouched for me, even paid for my energon from their own pay and rations until I found something I could do well enough to enlist. I own them both my life so many times."

"Breathe," Yevette stopped him with an amused tone.

"But I don't need to breath, sweetie. My vocal processors don't work like your vocal cords, after all." Bluestreak nuzzled Yevette affectionately, making it obvious that he was teasing her.

"Honestly, I want to know everything you are allowed to tell me. It is all new, and totally fascinating." Amelia patted him reassuringly on his neck cables. "Are you and Prowl related some how? I noticed you both have the same wing-like structures on your backs and decorations on your foreheads."

Yevette laughed and cringed at the same time. "And let loose the Hounds of Blue."

Bluestreak gave his socket a grin and deftly picked up two human sized plates. "The things on our back are sensor wings. Like flier wings they have just a _ton_ of sensors in them to pick up environmental data. The chevron," he tapped his forehead with his free hand, "is also sensor-dense, but is more focused on communications." He explained as he selected several items for one plate. "What would you like, Miss Strongheart?"

"Please, call me Amelia. And I'll take whatever you are getting for Yevette. It all looks good." Amelia leaned back to talk to the human sniper on the other side of his neck. "Were you able to tell him what you wanted without speaking, or does Bluestreak just know what you like?"

"Cool," Bluestreak said and proceeded to make two absolutely identical plates.

"A bit of both," she smiled. "He does know me very well, but I also told him a few things I wanted to try," she tapped the cable plugged into her neck, before turning her attention to sweep the room around them.

It was a look that settled things for Amelia that Yevette was a military lifer, and not from one of the nicer backgrounds. Even at her calmest, this woman was watching for danger, expecting something bad to happen without warning.

"Blue, sweetie, you don't have to make them exactly the same," Yevette stopped Bluestreak's unobtrusive fussing over the plates.

"Okay," he responded, not nearly as sure as he was before and handed the plates he'd created up to them. "Let me know if you want more or something else or whatever," he rattled off and headed for the drink table set at the same height, one suitable for a mech his size to serve humans they carried. "Prowl and I are related in the same way you're related to all Native Americans or Irish or Africans. We have a similar design because it was the dominant frametype of Praxis, our home city. Now Prowl and Smokescreen are brothers, at least as best as anybody has translated it. They were brought on line for the same order at the same time."

"Hey Blue, you trying to get a second socket before you have a mech?" A very playful male voice drew their attention as a blue, red and white Praxian with a golden chevron walked up to them, or at least up to the beverage table.

"Speak of the devil," Yevette groaned. "That's Smokescreen. Our resident diversionary tactician and betting pool organizer. The critter on his shoulder is Wolfkat, one of the aliens that came with the Zerstörerz cadre, the same one as Jolt and Killblade."

"Hello," the previously not-alive looking pool of dark chocolate brown fur on Smokescreen's shoulder animated with a sleek stretch and settled to sit on his shoulder as he passed a mixed drink twice the size of the normal one to her. "I understand you are here to research this base for your masters."

Amelia's eyes widened at claws far longer than her fingers that wrapped around the drink and canines that could likely rip her head off without a second thought. The canine-like alien had to be one of the coolest people she had ever laid eyes on ... well ... along with Caurver and all of the mechs.

"Pleased to meet both of you, and yes, though that is an unique way of putting it, Wolfkat," Amelia used her warmest, most inviting tone, hoping to add more voices to what was proving to be an incredibly educational conversation. "I'm a freelance writer, and most of my work, including this assignment, is for National Geographic. My partner and I are creating an issue of the magazine devoted to Cybertronian culture, history, and the people, mech and organic, living on this base. We are likely to be here for at least six months."

"You've been warned about my sister, yes?" Wolfkat asked after a long drink that Smokescreen promptly refilled for her.

"No ... does she have...longer claws and bigger teeth than you?" Amelia wondered if her sense of humor would be of any use to her here.

Smokescreen chuckled even as Wolfkat scrunched her face. "No, much smaller. She's shorter than you, smaller too. No one's managed to pound it into her head that just because it's alive does not mean it wants her amorous attentions. She's _finally_ learned to respect a 'no' that doesn't come with being forcefully removed, but it doesn't stop her from trying."

"From what I understand about this whole energy socket thing, it sounds like she would be quite popular on base," Amelia gave the worried predator a disarming smile. "Though I imagine there are some humans who would have no idea how to deal with that strong of a come on."

"Most humans and a few mechs," Smokescreen grinned at her even as Wolfkat's head whipped around to lock on something across the room.

When Amelia followed her gaze, she saw a very large olive green mech apparently chasing something human-sized. A blink and Wolfkat was gone from her perch and Smokescreen vented a sigh as he looked at the scene.

"One would think he could keep his hands on her after this long," the mech shook his head, his tone amused. "That's Springer, the cadre's SIC."

Amelia gave a bright laugh before taking a sip of the vodka martini Bluestreak had carefully mixed for her, identical to Yevette's down to the placement of the olive. "You know ... of all the things I imagined finding on this base, so much comic relief was not one of them. I take it he was supposed to be looking after Wolfkat's amorous little sister?"

"Yap," Smokescreen grinned at her briefly. "Most of those who live here know how to send her on her way if they aren't interested. With this many visitors, she needed a keeper. I think she's headed for your partner."

"That's not good, or is it?" Bluestreak suddenly began talking again. "I mean, he has to learn about her, but maybe tonight isn't the best time. Do you know if he likes random sex? What do you think drew her attention? Maybe pheromones?"

"Blue," Yevette stopped him once more.

Amelia only laughed. "I'm sure it was his carefully cultivated shyly mysterious aura. The man could be a virgin as far as most people know, even though he is easily the hottest Swahili-speaking gentleman you'll find. You can hear what he says, right? You have to tell me."

"He isn't a virgin," Bluestreak continued. "His hormonal indicators and sperm count show that he has had penetrating sexual contact sometime in the last decaorn."

"TMI Blue!" Yevette clamped her hands down on her ears, though she was laughing too.

"Sorry, love, I don't think I'll ever remember that's not an okay subject. It's so odd, humans talk about sex all the time, but talking facts about it is taboo. I just don't understand."

"No one does, Blue," Smokescreen chuckled. "And Wolfkat scores! One little Shekat back to her keeper. Maybe they'll leash her this time."

"Do you really think that would work?" Bluestreak spoke up. "Wouldn't she choke herself the next time someone catches her eye? She's nice and pretty and strong but she's not much on forward thinking or consequences."

Amelia giggled, unfortunately snorting out some of her martini, which turned her laugh into a tear-jerking coughing fit. Almost immediately cables the width of her wrist wrapped around her and the mech under her tensed sharply.

"Are you okay?" Bluestreak sounded panicked. "Oh Primus, I hurt her! I didn't mean to, I swear," he descended into Cybertronian after that, though he grew ever-more agitated with every cough.

The large chartreuse mech that had tended Laserbeak began heading for them as fast as the crowd could manage, and Smokescreen backed away. He only just reached them when she found her voice again.

"I'm okay, promise, just had some go down the wrong tube," Amelia managed to rasp out.

"I'm sure you didn't mean to," Ratchet soothed the panicking mech as he scanned Amelia. "She'll be fine. While aspirating liquids is not recommended for humans, this amount won't do lasting damage."

"It was my fault," Amelia got out between coughs. "Drinking and laughing don't mix well. Sorry to cause so much commotion."

"I really didn't know I was being funny," Bluestreak commented mournfully.

"Which is one of the reasons you are so funny, love," Yevette commented, giving the pouting mech a small kiss on the metal plate that made up his cheek.

When she finally stopped coughing and rasping, Amelia leaned conspiratorially toward what she assumed were Bluestreak's audio receptors, but could just have easily been his taste buds for all she knew. "One thing you need to know, there are no taboo subjects to this particular reporter. I've been immersed in far too many different cultures to have any reservations. And the second thing is ... do you know if it was a guy or a gal my partner scored with? There is a betting pool back at the office."

"Sorry, I can't tell from here. It wouldn't be difficult for Ratchet to work out though," Bluestreak answered.

"Which I will not," the CMO said quickly before heading away, a lovely dark-haired, olive-skinned woman on his shoulder.

"How strong was this martini, anyhow," Amelia asked, glancing at Yevette, noticing that she was far more relaxed and giggly than she normally was after a hard drink.

"I put three of those shot things in it. One just didn't look like nearly enough." Bluestreak used his claw-like fingers to show just how tiny a shot glass was.

"Gotta love mechs," Yevette chuckled. "They are _so_ good at getting everyone drunk. Oh, and Blue, did the Twins spike the high grade?"

Bluestreak took a drink of a cube of something glowing like pure liquid electricity.

"I can't tell, but I'd better be careful. Do you remember what happened last time I had high grade? Not that I didn't enjoy it, but I would have liked to have remembered it better. Jolt and Killblade were so smug when I woke up in their quarters the next orn and my own memory files only contain snippets. I don't want to forget _anything_ like that if it were to happen again..."

"I would never bet against them spiking it," Smokescreen cut in with a chuckle, waving as he took off toward the dancing.

Amelia's eyes followed the other sensor-winged mech (_Praxian,_ she reminded herself). He made his way to the dance floor where there was some seriously amazing movement happening between various mechs and a few organics. Jazz, it appeared, was visibly molesting Miles on the dance floor as he made moves more sexy and alluring than Amelia would ever have thought possible from a mechanical creature.

"Jazz sure knows how to dance, but then he's old enough to have learned everything from every master Cybertron's ever had on every subject," Bluestreak commented, his gaze fixed on sight. "He doesn't say it, but I bet he's taught more than a few of those masters. He's really amazing."

"Even more when you can see the entire performance, and not just what we call the visible spectrum," Yevette added, pointing again to the cable attached to her neck, giving a sigh that was equal parts amazement and arousal.

"Can you describe it to me?" Amelia asked breathlessly as Jazz began to throw and catch his nearly naked socket as part of the dance in far more intricate and amazing spins than a figure skating duo might perform.

"You've seen IR and UV images, right?" Yevette asked, never taking her eyes off the dance as she reached forward to stroke Bluestreak's chevron. It brought a slight rev to the mech's engine. "It's kinda like seeing those, and the original, and about six other frequencies, all at once. They see the entire EM spectrum all at once and with something like this, it all has meaning. It takes getting used to since our brains aren't set up to process all that info. I have to translate it to colors, even if it's colors that don't exist, but I've been told that eventually you get used to it and perceive it the way they do."

"Wow," the journalist whispered, both at the explanation of something that was likely more beautiful than she could imagine, as well as the wild, almost primitive feeling dance the looked like it could literally ignite the air around the mech.

Jazz was now balancing himself on a single hand, Miles laid on his back, arched seductively between his mech's spread legs, looking as though he was close to coming undone with sheer arousal as smooth, snake-like cables emerged from joints in the silver mech's armor to caress every inch of the young man's body.

Suddenly, Miles was released with a good-natured swat to his buttocks by one of those same cables. The young man was visibly hard under the little bit of clothing that remained on him, shaking and nearly stumbling toward the door.

"What is going on with them?" Amelia asked, her voice quivering.

"Jazz and Prowl are going to try and create a new spark tonight," Yevette's voice was a bit shaky as well as she stroked Bluestreak's chevron, all but rubbing herself against the side of his head. "It's called kindling. It works better when everybody has been wound up for a long time, including the socket involved. They've been tormenting each other for days now. Miles it probably going to do some last minute setup in their quarters or something."

"Oh _wow_," Bluestreak suddenly breathed, his frame vibrating with excitement. "Oh, you have to watch this, Mirage and Jazz dancing together ... I've only seen Mirage dance once and it was incredible. It's so different from what we do, being he's a noble and all. I bet Jazz knows all their dances." He kept talking as he moved closer, shifting and angling to stand near Prowl and Hound. "This is going to be amazing."

"And cruel," Hound chuckled with a wink towards them. "This one's a Tower's seduction dance."

"Umm, don't take this the wrong way, please, but I can help with your arousal if you'd like that," Bluestreak offered, looking at Amelia. "It's okay to tell me no, okay? I just want to help."

Amelia sprayed vodka martini back into her glass as she nearly ended up choking again.

"Ummm ... wow. That is really ... sweet, Bluestreak. So, you can ... tell I'm aroused, or are you just guessing? And would that be ok with you, Yevette ... not that I'm saying yes or anything but..." Not much embarrassed the journalist, but her cheeks were certainly red now, and not just because of her second triple-strength martini.

"Your pheromones, body temperature, vaginal secretions and a dozen other basic bio-indicators we all keep a close sensor on make it very clear you're as turned on as I am watching this," Bluestreak explained, his optics locked on the graceful pair doing mirror image moves of each other, coming close but never touching.

"And yes, I'm find with it, as long as I get off too," Yevette winked at her.

"I'd never forget about you," Bluestreak sputtered. "You're my socket, and you'd never let me anyway. You're really good about making your wishes known, which is a really good thing around me."

He silenced at a deep, powerful rev from Prowl's engine, the other Praxian's sensor wings arched high to catch every scrap of input possible.

Amelia did not even bother to reply - they were all so caught up in the dance that there was no need to. Mirage and Jazz were engaged in what looked like some sort of cross between a really hot tango and Cybertronian dirty dancing in which they never quite touched. She wondered if magnetic fields were involved, and would have given anything at that moment to have a mech hooked into her brain so she could actually see what they were seeing.

It looked as though they both were competing in an artistic, erotic competition to get one another off by proximity and seductive dance alone. It was, quite simply, the most alluring thing she had ever seen.

She glanced over at Prowl and Hound, and even not fully knowing their body language, she could tell both had a predatory air of wild creatures close to striking. Their mates were teasing them, performing for them, if the looks the dancers gave their respective bond-mates were any indication.

"They're incredible," Bluestreak whispered as a long, low moan was wrung from Yevette.

"Yes, they are," a deep rumble came from above and behind them and Bluestreak was pulled back against the chest plates of another mech. The newly bonded Killblade, Amelia recognized after a moment. "I heard you complaining that you couldn't remember enough last time."

"So how many cubes have you had tonight?" Jolt rumbled as he slid up against Bluestreak's side, nearly sandwiching the mech between the newly bonded pair and shamelessly groping him.

"Only one, but you two couldn't possibly want me around on your bonding night, not that I'd say no, though Yevette might kill me if she couldn't be there this time." Bluestreak sounded absolutely flustered and smitten with the pair. Before anyone could respond, he launched into an even faster monologue.

"Oh, this is Amelia Strongheart. She is writing a whole book about us for National Geographic and is totally aroused by the whole evening. She has great energy. Don't you think she'd make a great socket for someone? It's nice to see one who is curvy and rounder and not so skinny. Just like it's nice to see so many muscles on Yevette. Your socket looked lovely tonight, Jolt. I love the way they look and smell when they are lactating. She was so happy with the baby name you picked. Have you shared with her yet?"

Killblade laughed and played his hands along the flat planes Bluestreak's sensor wings, causing the smaller mech to shut up, shudder and moan with need.

"Yes, I've shared with her, and Amelia is lovely," Jolt grinned and slid down to one knee to nuzzle Bluestreak's groin. "Open up, pretty. Maybe you'll remember more of what we do to you tonight."

Bluestreak spluttered and Amelia grinned as the panel over his organic-styled interface seemed to spring back while the phallic ... thing made a hydraulic noise and sprung up, almost straight into Jolt's waiting mouth.

She couldn't believe she was sitting on an alien's shoulder, watching him get the most tantalizing blow job she'd ever seen or imagined. She glanced over at Yevette and saw that those smooth looking cables the mechs seemed capable of producing out of any joint in their body were caressing her everywhere, including underneath her dress. The woman had turned around and was assisting Killblade in teasing Bluestreak's obviously sensitive wings.

Amelia's anthropology field training kicked in. It was about time she became a participant observer. She turned herself as well and experimentally ran her hands along the front of the quivering wing. It surprised her how warm it was, how there didn't seem to be any sharp edges or pinch points despite how incredibly mobile the surface seemed.

"Oh Primus that feels good," the gray mech moaned and trembled. His hands moved down to Jolt's head, caressing the metal and three horns there as he began to pump into the mouth sucking on him. "Please don't stop."

Out of the corner of her eye, Amelia saw a very determined Prowl carrying Jazz away over his shoulder. The silver mech caught her eye and called to her, "you can watch the recording later! It won't make any different whether you see it live or not."

She nodded in understanding and turned her attention back to exploring the quivering wing, trying to figure out which areas caused him to twitch the most when she touched them. One of those silky smooth looking cables suddenly snaked around her waist. Killblade was mouthing the tip of Bluestreak's wings, but the ridges above his optics were arched in a questioning expression toward her.

She considered for a second before smiling and giving the cable a stroke. Her own expression clearly replying 'why not?' before she moved in to experimentally kiss and suck on a spot on the gray mech's winglet that seemed especially sensitive.

Bluestreak cried out sharply at the kiss and pressed the sensitive expanse of quivering metal towards her. Mingled in that sound was also the hard thud and crash of two large metal bodies hitting the ground behind her.

A glance confirmed what she suspected; Hound had pounced on Mirage and was now ravishing him in public once more, but this time the human woman was involved, seemingly having appeared out of nowhere. Amelia shivered as the woman slid herself onto Mirage's cock-like cable at the exact same time as Hound slid his own into an opening below it. Killblade's smooth cables were making their way up under her shirt, caressing her curves, drawing her attention back to the mech they were pleasuring.

A whimper-like moan escaped her mouth as she pressed it again to Bluestreak's most sensitive spots, tracing them with her tongue, and noting that the metal did not _taste_ like any kind of metal she could imagine. She could not describe what it did taste like, but it was certainly nothing of this earth.

Bluestreak shuddered, whimpered and said something in Cybertronian that caused Killblade to use several more cables to lift Amelia from Bluestreak's shoulder shortly before tiny wisps of electricity danced across the gray frame.

"The charge won't hurt you, but it won't be pleasant," the larger mech explained as he deposited her on his shoulder.

Amelia's mind was immediately bursting with questions for the newly bonded mech. Except she couldn't make her mind connect with her mouth which was moaning and whimpering as the large blue warrior's cables went to work on her, sliding underneath her clothing, teasing her sex.

She _wanted_ to ask why Yevette was not uncomfortable with the blue charge ghosting over the gray mech's frame and her body. The sharp shooter was suddenly being held to his shoulder by a dozen cables to prevent her from falling as she convulsed in an orgasm that looked better than anything fantasies had ever dreamed up.

Killblade leaned down and smothered Bluestreak's moans and keens in a bruising kiss, his fingers playing along the sniper's sensor wings as though he were playing an instrument. Amelia would have thought herself forgotten, except she so obviously wasn't as the warm, thick cable that had been playing with her plunged in, sending with it some sort of current that made her tingle from head to toe.

"So very sexy," Killblade rumbled as the kiss broke, holding Bluestreak upright as he overloaded with a loud, high keen that soon passed her audio range.

"Yes, they all are," Jolt agreed hotly as he stood to claim a kiss from his bonded. "But I think our pretty Praxian would be even prettier in Prime's lap, his valve stretched wide by that spike and his spark touched by his light."

Amelia threw her objectivity out the window at that moment. She was in love ... with an entire alien species, or at least the ones represented at this particular party. There was no shame wrapped around pleasure for them. Everything she saw around herself, and what was currently continuing to happen _to_ her was an affirmation of life. That two people who had just traded parts of their souls were now concerned with the pleasure of a friend made her smile wide. That Killblade would continue to pleasure her even without a socket in her neck, getting absolutely nothing back for himself made the smile even wider.

"Oh, you don't think Prime would really do that with _me_, do you? I mean he is the Prime and I'm not even an officer and it isn't that I haven't fantasized about him ... I mean who hasn't imagined themselves stretched wide by that spike."

Bluestreak's half hearted objections were completely ignored as Jolt took his legs and Killblade lifted under his arms, physically carrying him toward the giant mech who was looking on with an amused smile, obviously hearing every word.

"Old bonding night tradition, pretty. The newly bonded couple are supposed to present the High Priest with a thank you gift," Jolt said with a sly grin.

A sound suspiciously like 'eep' escaped Bluestreak, and he kept babbling, but there were no more objections involved, only random thoughts, mostly centered on interfacing and Prime and thanking the mechs carrying him.

"Lord Prime," Jolt grinned and made a half-bow to his leader, a look of pure mischief plastered on his face. "Would it please you to indulge yourself with this mech?"

Amelia watched as Optimus stroked Bluestreak's face with tender sensuousness, before rumbling his reply. "Nothing would please me more, and the organics in his company if they are willing."

Bluestreak made a sound like a sob and pressed into the contact, trying to nuzzle Prime in absolute devotion.

"Oh, God yes," Yevette exclaimed from his shoulder, sounding drunk on far more than vodka and vermouth.

"I don't have a..." Amelia stammered, pointing to her neck, wondering briefly if this would cost her contract with National Geographic and not finding the energy to care.

"I do not demand a charge in return," Prime smiled, looking at her directly before extending a hand for her to climb on as Killblade knelt so it was easy for her, his cables sliding out of her and away from her body. "Your pleasure is quite reward enough."

No wonder the organics on this base seemed addicted to these aliens, Amelia thought briefly as she climbed shakily onto that giant hand, her thighs quivering at the sudden emptiness between them.

Bluestreak was deftly deposited on Prime's lap, facing him. He was shaking even worse than she was, overwhelmed and at a loss for words as Optimus leaned down to capture his mouth in a kiss that made the journalist's toes curl in appreciation. She was brought up to Prime's shoulder and a multitude of cables, most only the thickness of her finger, secured her there and began to explore her ample curves.

As she watched, Prime extended his phallus ... spike ... and her eyes widened as much as Bluestreak's did.

"Oh wow, will that even fit? Oh course it will, Jack designed them to fit, but it's so big. Can anyone take it at natural size?" He kept talking as he reached between them to wrap both hands around the thick, long spike, stroking it reverently.

A chuckle mixed with a moan emanated from Prime's chassis, making Amelia's body tingle, very air seemed to vibrate with that delicious sound.

"It will fit, and only stretch you as much as you want and can take," Optimus offered, bringing his own large hand to join Bluestreak's so he could rub both of their spike's together, surrounding them with his large hand. "Ultra Magnus and Ironhide can both take it natural sized, among others."

"That feels incredible," Bluestreak shuddered and moaned, his hips rocking into the contact. "Does it feel any better when you don't have to shrink to fit? Or does it feel better smaller, more nodes in a smaller space. Ohhhhh! Prime!" He arched, his optics flickering. "Please, I want to feel you inside me. It feels so good after a hard overload, I don't need to fight the quiet."

Amelia watched as Prime stilled Bluestreak's rambling with another claiming kiss, before breaking off and saying in a gentle yet seductive tone. "Hush now, my brave Praxian. I'm going to give you just what you need."

She glanced toward Yevette, whose strong face was transfixed as though she was somewhere else entirely, likely feeling everything that Bluestreak felt. What Amelia would give to be able to do the same as Prime lifted Bluestreak by his aft and began to lower him slowly onto the giant spike.

Even without the connection, the deeply resonant moans and the _sight_ of it was nearly enough to send her over the edge. Bluestreak had grabbed hold of Prime, one arm around his neck on the far side from Amelia, the other around his torso, but otherwise the smaller mech had surrendered completely. It was the sweetest, most erotic submission she'd ever witnessed. So full of trust, love and adoration on both sides. She had no doubt that Prime could receive this attention from any mech here on command, yet she couldn't shake the impression that this was more, far more, for Bluestreak than for Prime.

Inch by inch, the gray mech was lowered and stretched as he keened and whimpered and begged for more and harder. Prime simply kissed Bluestreak's quivering red chevron and continued his agonizingly slow pace. As she watched the erotic spectacle, a thick cable began pushing into her at the same pace, taking her by surprise, nearly making her fall had it not been for the others that were wrapped around her and teasing her hungry flesh.

She had no doubt, in the small part of her mind that cared about such things, that Masomakali would tease her mercilessly about tonight. He was surely watching as keenly as many of the mechs and humans in the room. As relaxed as this was, it _felt_ as though she was participating in a ritual that every Cybertronian wished would happen far more often, and to them.

Optimus must have adjusted his size as the base of his spike hit Bluestreak's valve, but even then, she was quite sure the smaller mech had never had anything quite so large in him as he writhed and keened in pleasure. Prime chuckled and held the sniper's aft tight, rocking into him. With each inward thrust wild, resonant shrieks of bliss came from Bluestreak and Yevette, while Amelia felt herself split between wanting to simply close her eyes and focus on what Prime was doing to her and the need to watch everything that was happening.

She saw Bluestreak's optics flash as Prime's chest plates began to open.

"Open up, sweet mech."

Bluestreak shuddered, his optics widening in awe. His chest plates split open to reveal his own deep red spark laced through with swirling lightning bolts of rich cobalt. This close, she could see that each color wasn't of a single shade. Tiny ribbons of lighter and darker red wove around, a few strands that looked pure black quickly dove into the core, almost like they were aware of what the multi-colored spark shining down on them meant those strands formed of pain and sickness.

Bluestreak whispered something in their language, and Prime answered him, his tone soothing as he drew the smaller mech closer, the light of their sparks mingling and fine strands of lightning reaching out from the core of each. Amelia couldn't keep her eyes off the blazingly bright vision, all but oblivious to what was happening to her own body as she stared down in amazement. Bluestreak's crimson spark reached out desperately for the much larger, prismatic spark of the Prime.

A deep, groaning moan reverberated from both mechs right up through her bones and every nerve in her body. She caught flashes of sensation, pleasurable and frightening, tender and needy, youth and ancient, all wrapped up into a single moment where everything stood still in a perfect bliss and a slow, gentle slide into oblivion.


	73. Hunting Pleasure 28:  A Rare Show

**Fandom**: Transformers Bayverse  
**Author**: gatekat and femme4jack on LJ  
**Pairing**: Jazz/Prowl/Miles Lancaster, Jazz/Amelia Strongheart  
**Rating**: NC-17 mech/mech/male, mech/female  
**Codes**: Slash, Het, Spark-sex, Mechpreg, Xeno (Transformer/Human), Sticky  
**Summary**: Everything is ready for Jazz and Prowl to attempt their first kindling, and the after-show with the resident National Geographic writer is hot too.  
**Notes**: Written in the Dathanna de Gray fanverse (community .livejournal .com/ tf_socket_fics)  
**"text"** translated Cybertronian.  
"text" organic languages  
~text~ bond or cable talk  
::text:: comm chatter

**Note: **This is the final chapter for story arc 1 in Dathana de Gray. Kat and I have several new stories in the same 'verse in progress. _Outside Eyes_ (centers on National Geographic journalists Masomakali Mwakanjala and Amelia Strongheart as they create a National Geographic special and magazine about the Cybertronians.) _Dark Nobility_ (set 2 vorns in the future, centers on Alicia and Mirage on an AU Cybertron), _Science and the Witch_ (set immediately after The Naturalists: First Christmas. Centers on Corazon Rodriquez/Perceptor), _Sharp Shooters_ (set at the same time as Dathana de Gray, the story of Bluestreak and his first socket, Yevette). Stay tuned, and thanks for reading and reviewing! Our reader contest continues for January - please see tf_socket_fics at Live Journal for more information (there is a link on our profile). I will also catch up on posting other stories in this verse by Kat and other authors. _Fire and Fear_ will also be continuing, but will get its own story heading.

* * *

****

Hunting Pleasure 29: A Rare Show

* * *

Mood lighting and candles set up in the washrack - √  
Stripper pole set up in the washrack - √  
Oil bath at appropriate temperature - √  
Music set to John Coltrane's "Ballads" that Prowl digs - √  
Decadent selection of energon confections and brews from the Spec Ops femmes and Sides - √  
Accessories for Jazz's strip tease - √  
Naked socket with body painted as a tiger (by drone programmed by Mirage), complete with leather collar and leash - √

Miles looked around. What was he forgetting? He knew his time was running short. His little dude had been standing at attention every since the drone began painting him, and it was damn hard to concentrate (literally), especially since he wasn't about to slap that particular monkey and take any energy away from his big dudes as they kindled.

Oh yeah, the recording equipment. He looked quickly to make sure that all the appropriate cameras were set up to record. Red Alert had outdone himself setting up the room on short notice. It was sure to be an inspirational show, and not just for the National Geographic writer and photographer...

He heard the outer door open and the slightly heavier steps of Prowl enter, along with a deep moan wrenched from the tactician's vocalizer. He could feel through the bond exactly what kind of torment Jazz was inflicting on Prowl's sensor wings. The silver dude could turn pleasure into torture when he was in the mood. Such sweet, sweet torture...

Miles positioned himself on his Miles-sized pet bed (aka pillow nest) in the washracks that he'd set up just for the show. He was determined to be the sexiest energizer lap kitty his mechs had ever come across. But he wondered if they'd even make it to their destination?

"We will," Prowl's voice was as determined as it was shaky as he slid open the door to the washrack, Jazz still over his shoulder. There was a pause when he reached the door and took in Miles, then the rest of the room, and _growled_ his desire.

Jazz twisted up and sideways to get a good look and agreed with a hard rev of his engine. "Now put me down, lover. I need to dance for _you_."

A reluctant look crossed Prowl's features, but he complied.

Miles grinned and patted the floor next to him for Prowl to sit and watch the show. As soon as Prowl had lowered himself there, never taking his optics off of his bonded, the human scrambled onto the black and white mech's lap. He was more than ready to be a lap kitty for the evening, and it wasn't going to be a lazy, sleepy one, either, especially with just how hot Prowl's interface panel felt on his naked ass.

Jazz walked in that sultry way that only he was capable of to pole Miles had gotten installed earlier in the day for just that purpose. As his fingers curled around it, the music changed to a Cybertronian piece, very different from the bonding song. This was full of instruments, a relatively fast pace, but no vocals.

Even knowing what it was, music created specifically for these erotic dances, Miles didn't feel it, though Jazz's movements made up for the fact. Prowl, though, sucked in a deep vent of air as his claws skated along the floor they were braced against.

Miles felt the mech he sat on shaking with nearly uncontrollably desire to jump up and pound the dancing mech with his spike. The need was so fierce it was almost terrifying.

~I want to see and hear this through you, please?~ Miles asked, a little timid about interrupting the feral desire.

Jazz, meanwhile, was moving on that pole in a way that made human strippers look clumsy, awkward, and hopelessly unattractive by comparison. Miles was _very_ jealous of the pole as the silver mech rubbed up against it in cruel imitation of the way his protoform was destined to rub against Prowl's in the oil bath.

Prowl didn't respond verbally, he couldn't with his optics locked on his bonded's movements, every one designed with arousing him in mind, but a cable extended and connected, flooding Miles with desire so raw it was painful for the mech, yet Prowl only wanted more. He was fully aware that this wasn't just an erotic dance, this was crafted explicitly for Jazz to perform for _him_.

Then a piece of shoulder armor was released and slowly slipped off to be tossed aside and every cable in Prowl's frame tightened, his engine whining desperately.

While Miles had seen Jolt's protoform up close and personal earlier in the day as he was polished, nothing prepared him for his first glimpse of Jazz under his armor. There was no doubt that Jazz had come from a far different time. As a plate of thigh armor was sensuously slid off, Miles could see that the dark structure underneath had a far more alien look to it, the metal looking almost liquid-like, as though his inner form was made up of molten black metal.

~Not inaccurate,~ Prowl's mind-voice was breathless. ~I will look much more like Jolt and Killblade.~

"Take it off, lover," Jazz's gaze raked over Prowl with open hunger as he spun around the pole, sliding up and down it as he teased off another piece of arm armor. "Show me that beautiful protoform of yours."

Using the skills Jazz had rehearsed with him, Miles began to assist Prowl in unlatching his armor, his tiny fingers making the action into yet more sensuous torture as he stroked underneath to find the catches, and then rubbed his body and rained kisses on whatever he exposed. This enabled Prowl to keep the majority of his attention on Jazz whose movement seemed impossibly graceful for someone mechanical.

**"Jazz,"** Prowl trembled, his fingers hurrying to remove the rest of his armor. Through the connection and knowing his mech, Miles could hear the desperation there, feel just how close he was to overloading just watching after days of tormented build-up. **"Please."**

**"But the dance isn't done,"** Jazz wasn't sure to be hurt or elated.

**"Dance for me later,"** Prowl curled forward to settle on his knees, only his sensor wings, chevron and groin left covering his protoform. **"Please,"** he reached out, no longer caring what it took to get Jazz to come to him.

Jazz's response was to simply shed the rest of his armor, sliding into the oil bath while holding his hand out to Prowl who likewise removed every last piece save one on his wrist holding the cable attached to Miles. Jazz's cable slid from his one remaining plate and joined Prowl's in Miles neck, who was blown away by the elation and desire that met him. Sliding into the oil, Miles lost complete awareness of himself, and was suddenly feeling the inexplicable sensuality of the thick, hot liquid sliding on his most intimate metal as he looked at the spark chamber of the most desirable, beautiful, perfect creature in the universe, his bonded.

Prowl's protoform fingertips touched Jazz's palm and they both curled their fingers inwards, locking them together and drawing them into the embrace. Prowl's lips brushed against Jazz's, passing only briefly before Jazz's mouth found his throat.

~I ... I can't,~ Prowl apologized as his spark chamber pushed forward to bring the iris to the surface. It began to spiral open even before it breached his protoform fully and he clutched Jazz to his chest closely.

**"Jazz,"** he moaned deeply, feeling the other chamber brush against his and begin a slower spiral to open.

**"Thank you,"** Jazz murmured, catching his bonded's mouth with a fierce kiss as their sparks, amethyst and white, reached out for each other.

* * *

Amelia was sitting on the lap of a sleek, sexy (even to her eyes), and now very much knocked up silver mech, watching a three dimensional rendering of what had to be the most erotically beautiful scene she had ever seen.

"What did you just say to one another?" she whispered, her hands visibly trembling as she tried to take notes.

"Prowl said my designation," he smiled, more than slightly turned on watching the scene. "I said 'thank you', for agreeing to kindle. The odds are hard for him to accept."

The journalist turned her attention to Miles in his hilariously sexy tiger body paint as he seemed to pass out, floating on his back in the thick oil, attached to the two mechs who were seemingly oblivious to him.

"What part is he playing in this, other than being totally blissed out?" She asked, leaning back into the growing heat coming from the mech.

"You know about organic energy strengthening our sparks, right?" Jazz glanced down as she nodded. "Instead of absorbing his energy for ourselves, we're channeling it towards the forming spark. He improves the odds of kindling and having it last long enough to be born."

Jazz slowed the playback down so she could see every detail of the two sparks coming together, tendrils reaching out to embrace one another like the longtime lovers they were, intertwining, pulling them slowly, so slowly together.

"What's _that_?" she couldn't help the small squeak in her voice at the oozing inky blackness that flowed in and around Jazz's spark, lapping angrily at the light.

"That's just part of me," he answered softly, only to suck in a sharp intake of air when he saw what he couldn't feel during the kindling. As his and Prowl's protoforms stiffened and sounds of pain mixed with the pleasure, a bit of darkness slipped into the forming orb.

She quickly looked up at him, wondering if he would elaborate. She could not tell if he was surprised, upset, or something else entirely by the strand of darkness that was now hiding in the center of the spinning, brightening orb.

"Is it a part of you that you wanted to be part of the new spark?" she asked boldly, feeling confident that this was not a mech who would be upset with probing questions, or would feel any obligation to answer if he did not wish to do so.

"No, I'd hoped it wouldn't," he murmured, honest sadness in his voice. "It'll make life more difficult for 'er."

She reached up and behind her and gave his face and affectionate stroke, not sure what else to say. The two sleek black forms continued to rub against and grasp one another in what appeared to be equal parts sensuality and desperate desire to hold on despite what must be growing pain. Miles began convulsing, and Prowl somehow had the wherewithal able to grab him to keep him from drowning in the oil as they threw their heads back and keened in equal parts agony and ecstasy.

Under her, Jazz's entire frame shuddered with the memory, and a hand came up to touch his chest over his spark. A smile that was entirely maternal crept across his features.

"Do you have children?" he asked, optics fixed on the tiny ball of light that followed his spark into his spark chamber.

Amelia turned half way to face him while still keeping an eye on the holo-vid. Jazz paused it for a moment, noting the tears that came to her eyes with his question.

"I've tried, 12 times now. Egg implanted 8 of those. I never really wanted to marry, but I want to be a mother. Natural, artificial insemination, in vitro, surgeries for endometriosis, nothing seems to work. I've miscarried between 1-4 months every time it took, except the time she was stillborn at 8 months. I'm considering adopting - I don't think I have it in me to try again."

He nodded. "I've carried to term twice before, sired three others who made it and lost eleven. That I never lost a bonded to carrying is something of a miracle."

She leaned back into his warmth, giving a bittersweet smile at the common understanding that seemed to pass between them despite everything that separated them - species, age, vastness of experience, strength and intelligence. He knew what it was to yearn for and desire a child, to carry one, to experience its loss.

"How many have you bonded with?" she asked quietly, her voice showing no surprise that he had shared his physical soul more than once.

"Prowl's the fifth," Jazz barely spoke loud enough to be heard. "It's a rare thing. Few can contemplate bonding a second time. Most who learn how many times I have think I'm a freak of the worst kind for it. It's not ... natural to most mechs. It's a common myth that when one extinguishes their bonded will follow soon after. Most will want to, many will take their lives in face of the pain, but only a few will extinguish directly from the loss. I've never been one to die."

"So even as open-minded a species as yours has its prejudices," she said quietly. "Seeing you with your bonded and socket ... it just doesn't seem like you are meant to be alone. Not that I know anything, but that is how it feels looking on."

"I'm not," Jazz agreed with a sigh. "I don't do well alone," he started the playback again. He and Prowl were collapsed against one another and the side of the pool. Miles, seemingly passed out and cradled against Prowl's protoform chest, revived enough to see the plainly visible second spark next to Jazz's own, carefully protected in the crystal. She watched as the young man's face erupted into the brightest smile she'd yet to see on him as he reached out his hand to tentatively touch Jazz's spark chamber.

It was hard to describe how moving it was to see someone so much smaller, younger and weaker love the two mechs with such complete sincerity and obvious devotion.

"How did you two end up picking Miles?" she asked, curious about what they would see and want in a human. Miles seemed funny and sweet, but not all that extraordinary.

Jazz couldn't help the amusement or laugh that came of it. "Prowl got tired of waiting, we had a couple major disasters with the ones I brought to him, so he sent an e-mail out to all the unattached sockets on Earth. A couple folks replied, but what clinched it was when I walked into Prowl's office to find Miles curled up and sleeping on his lap. I can count on one hand how many sockets really _loved_ Prowl, were that relaxed around him. It's never been a mistake to claim one who did."

"Lucky little bastard," she teased, watching as Prowl handed Miles over to Jazz and then reached over for two cubes of energon, handing one to his bonded. "He obviously answered the right personal ad."

"Yes he did," Jazz snickered, his optics on the screen as Prowl kissed him gently before they drank the energon, still pressed close together. "Never would have occurred to me to even ask him over, and I _work_ with him. But he's been perfect for us. He's even agreeable to sharing us with another socket if it works out again."

"Neither you or Miles seem like the exclusive types ... other than with Prowl, I mean," Amelia watched as the energon was finished, followed by several of the glowing cookie-looking things and a drink of something for Miles. Gentle kisses were turning heated.

"We aren't," he agreed. "We don't expect it of him, but Prowl's not much for casual fun with others. What about you?" he looked down with a low purr.

She sucked in a breath at the suggestively voiced question, again totally taken off guard that a mech would offer her something when she had no ability to give energy in return.

"You know...I think this has to be the most enjoyable participant-observer study I've ever had the privilege to be involved in. Bluestreak, Killblade and Prime offering at the party, and now you? I _like_ your culture, Jazz."

She turned and knelt on his lap, her face hot behind her smile.

"As for casual fun, women my size don't get a lot of offers, at least in the world of professional journalism. But I'm all for it when the offers come or are accepted."

"It's a shame, you're lovely," he said honestly, caressing her back with warm, light fingers. "If you promise never to say anything, I can show you what it's like for a socket, without getting one," he purred, his engine revving at the thought. "If you decide to stay, you'll be courted by every mech who likes an intelligent socket."

She bit her bottom lip for a moment, not needing to really decide anything, but instead to take in what he said. He wasn't some guy trying to manipulate her into sex. She could sense nothing but sincerity in his words. It wasn't that she had any problem with casual sex. Americans as a whole, she thought, took sex far too seriously, whether in condemning it or advertising wtih it. For the mechs she'd met, pleasure was pleasure, nothing shamefully bad or ridiculously elevated.

If she was afraid of anything, it was that she would like it too much, lose all of her objectivity about this culture. But if she was honest, she already had.

"I won't say a word," she whispered. "Miles and Prowl will know?" she asked as an afterthought. She knew she'd feel better if they did.

"Yes," he nodded easily and extended a cable from his wrist. "It takes effort to conceal an overload from a bond anyway. They'd know even if I didn't say it. This cable was designed for scouts. They regularly need to find a socket, be it a temporary or permanent one, without access to the medical resources to have the socket installed. So this can integrate into your spine and brain and act like a normal connection. It's not exactly legal if you aren't on a scouting mission. Too easy to abuse."

"Feel free to abuse me with it, Jazz," she replied with a soft laugh, her body a strange mix of complete, easy relaxation and shivering desire. She was quite certain the silver mech was the source of both.

She ran her hand along the smooth silver cable, surprised by its warmth. "What do I do?"

"Just touch it to the back of your neck, against the spine. I'll do the rest," he smiled, bringing clawed fingertips around to caress her ample breasts through her dress.

She tried to stop her hand from shaking as she brought it around and touched the end to the top of her spinal column, right at the spot she held most of her tension, hoping it wouldn't hurt. She focused her attention on the large fingers ghosting across both of her breasts with well practiced ease. He could so easily hurt her, even run her through with the deadly looking claws, yet the danger implicit in his form just added to the sensuality of the touch.

"Autobots don't hurt those who give us life," Jazz whispered a reminder as a small tingle spread from where the cable touched her, along her spine and out along her entire nervous system. "Relax and let me pleasure you," he crooned with a very light pulse through the cable.

Her response sounded suspiciously like a squeak, followed by a long sigh as she felt as though she were simultaneously being stroked on every pleasurable spot on her body. Jazz picked her up and carried her from the mech-sized sofa where they had been watching the replay of the kindling to what was obviously a bedroom.

As he lay down and rested her on his chest, more fine cables snaked out from his wrists and fingers to help undress her, his optic band locked on her as his systems ran a bit hotter. "You are very lovely, so strong. I'll never understand why your own kind don't see it."

His sincere words had their intended effect as her face lit up with a smile that truly was lovely. "Thank you. A few generations ago my body-type was considered a feminine ideal. It still is in some cultures I've had the privilege of studying. My own seems to think women should have the same amount of body fat as malnourished children, but I'm sure you are well aware how messed up our hyper-sexual species can be about sexuality."

He finished sliding off her shapely dress that showed off the curves of her full figure and her large breasts, trying hard to mentally accept and embrace the dimples and handfuls of flesh her culture had taught her to despise, but she had worked hard to accept after realizing that it truly was her natural shape.

"In a few more generations there will be more acceptance of natural form if we have much to do with it," Jazz rumbled, his fingers exploring her curves, sliding around the folds of flesh and softness that was so different from his socket and the majority of females on base. "It's a pity so many will never see their beauty."

"Do you say that to all the big girls?" she whispered, trying to tease but mostly focusing on the incredible affirmation his touch brought. She could _feel_ through the connection with him that he was enjoying how different she was, on a physical and energetic level. He guided her awareness to his spark which was literally drinking up the emotional high his words and touches brought her, in addition to each toe curling sensation his fingers brought.

"Only the ones who are ready to hear it," he smiled, his fingers working down her thighs, his thumbs sliding along the inside up to her crotch lightly. "Not everyone is ready."

She arched up with a moan, amazed that metal could feel so good against her heat. Her hands grabbed on to gaps in his armor as though holding on for dear life.

It was hard to simply lay back and enjoy, imagining herself running her fingers all over the sleek silver body, finding the sensitive spots, maybe even sucking him off the way Jolt had done to Bluestreak the night before. She wondered how much of him she could even fit in her mouth, or whether she was capable of doing anything truly pleasurable to him considering the strength of touches he was likely used to.

~Oh, you definitely could,~ Jazz shiver under her. ~You really want to?~

She nearly jumped hearing his voice in her head, the sound was speaking inside her entire body, making her shiver.

~Oh, I really do ... I'm happy to lay back and enjoy, but I'm usually much happier being an active participant. I just wasn't sure there was much I _could_ do for you, other than the energy part.~

~Plenty,~ he groaned as memories of previous female organic lovers flickered up and were offered to her. ~Anything you want, feel free.~

She sat up for a moment so she could see his dimly lit visor that was regarding her. His finger still rested between her legs, and she reached down to caress it and push herself against its heat. She licked her lips a smirked at him, raising her eyebrows as she felt herself taking on a self imposed challenge.

~Show me what I can do for you that big mech couldn't. When I do a good job, you can reward me. Where should I start?~

Jazz shivered, surprised and showing it at her demand.

"Start with the small gaps in my armor," he nearly moaned. "Places your fingers barely fit."

She looked over his chest, how the grill and fog lights of what must be his alt form were integrated so sensuously into his body. Climbing up, she settled herself where she could reach his neck and shoulders. She experimentally wiggled her fingers behind the tire that was integrated into his shoulder, finding more armor there with a tiny gap. She pushed in further and touched something hot and pulsing underneath.

"My protoform," he moaned unabashedly, his cables sliding along her skin, exploring as he was explored.

Not that it should have surprised her, but it felt so _alive_, almost like touching a kind of skin that was also somehow liquid-like. Her fingers tingled as she worked them further into the gap, feeling surrounded as though they were sinking _into_ the protoform that lay underneath his armor.

Through the connection, she could feel her own fingers on him, and moaned at the sensation.

"It must have been so amazing to have all your armor off. I can _feel_ how sensitive it is in you," she whispered in awe.

"It is," he agreed, his fingers stroking her back and sides. "We didn't discover how to armor our protoforms until I had been around a long time already. It brings back heady memories."

She sensed his continued surprise and enjoyment of how forward and bold she was and where he was hoping that boldness would touch him next. Her other hand began slipping beneath the cabling in his neck, downward, again reaching into a spot under the chest armor that only small fingers could reach, finding a hot-to-the-touch tube with a rush of some kind of liquid within.

"Primus!" Jazz threw his head back as his entire chassis arched. ~More, there!~

She reached in further, stroking the tube, squeezing it, her own body contracting with the shared sensations of a pleasure completely alien yet hauntingly familiar. She began to work in her other hand into his internals, letting his sensations guide her. As she continued to work the tube with one hand, her other found some sort of complicated disk that again was intensely sensor rich.

"This is _so_ amazing," she whispered.

"Yes," Jazz groaned, his entire form shuddering in pleasure. She could feel that it wasn't the first time someone had touched him these places, but it was a rare occurrence. "Oh yeah, that's good."

Without warning, a metallic claw slid between her thighs, pressing vibrating heat against the slick, swollen lips of her sex.

She gave a surprised cry, grinding herself against the welcome invasion as she continued to seek out and massage new sensitive places underneath his armor, closing her eyes and letting shared sensations guide her hands. Her own climax was building fast with the vibrations against her sex combined with each burst pleasure from him.

She began searching for one spot that would throw him over the edge and take her with him, feeling the pull of his sated, powerful spark feeding on her pleasure and life and wanting to feel more...so much more.

A silent guiding of her hands brought her fingers to the edge of that sensor-rich disk, curled her fingers around it and pressed in hard. Despite the strength being what she'd think of as painful, the feedback before Jazz keened and flooded her with intense pleasure was unquestionably good.

~Harder,~ he gasped against her mind despite already tumbling into a light overload.

She gritted her teeth and dug her hands in as hard as she could, as though she were hanging on for her life, all the while grinding her hips on his vibrating finger that had begun to push inside her.

~Oh God, Jazz...I'm gonna...~

Her vocal cries sounded animalistic to her ears, almost like the female bonobos she and Mas had documented earlier in the year, announcing their ecstasy for all to hear so others would come and join the fun. Pleasure fed pleasure, a cycle she was dimly aware was very intentional on the mech's part. The longer her orgasm lasted, the more his spark was fed.

When she finally began to come down, she realized that he was still gently rubbing her sex, a cable was deep inside her and both were making a coordinated effort to bring her orgasm to a gentle, satisfying end.

Her body rhythmically clenched the part of him inside, as though she were milking a cock for the rest of its hot fluid. Her fingers, still deep in his internals were gently stroking as she laid her face against the seam in his chest underneath she was sure she could hear the humming of his spark.

"Thank you," she whispered. "You body is amazing ... what it can feel and do. I wish I could feel what you and Prowl feel like together. I can only imagine..."

With a gentle smile Jazz withdrew his cable and finger, both thickly coated in her fluids, and brought them to his mouth to lick off seductively. "If you really want to, I can give you a memory. Or we can have a chat with Ratchet for a cable that will legitimately let you connect to us. Miles is _very_ interested in being with you while I'm with Prowl and we're all connected."

She grinned, delighted with his offer. "You know...technically I'm not supposed to fuck the natives while I'm studying them, but I think I've already thrown that particular professional boundary out the window. You said Prowl isn't much into casual encounters. You sure he'd be interested? I mean ... I won't say no to a memory, but ... I'll admit I like the way Miles thinks."

"He's not, but it's different with organics," Jazz paused as he disconnected the cable from her neck and snaked it into his arm once more, leaving her feeling strangely empty. "For most of his functioning he's ... we've all ... had to make do with what was available. Far too few sockets for everyone to have one, so everyone had to share, and you never knew who your next charge would be with. Even if it's not true anymore, it'll take time to adapt to the new paradigm."

"What's it like to suddenly have so many organics to choose from and a base going sparkling crazy?" she asked, her natural journalistic curiosity rising again.

A deep, happily playful laugh greeted the question as he grinned broadly. "It's wild. And that's not the only thing that has everybody worked up. We finally have a serious advantage over the Decepticons in numbers and resources. We're likely to win for real within a socket's lifetime. It's as thrilling as it is terrifying to anyone who thinks ahead to what they would do when the war is over and there's no Cybertron to rebuild. There are only a handful of mechs who really remember what it was like to live without war."

"So what do _you_ imagine, Jazz," she climbed up and tapped him on the helm, "thinking of a time soon with no war, no Cybertron to rebuild, a new sparkling ... where do you see yourself and your family in ... say ... 500 years?"

He hummed thoughtfully, even if he did have a very solid idea. "In six vorns the one I'm carrying will still be in his first frame, little more than a toddler by your standards. If the war is formally over then, there will still be a lot of hunting of renegades and getting news out to everyone, Bot, Con or Neutral. I expect I'll be doing a lot of that hunting. That near in the future won't see much change, even in a best case scenario."

"What about when all of that is over? Have you thought about what you want? Or Prowl?" Amelia had spent quite a bit of time survivors of war, especially rehabilitated child soldiers in the Congo on the same project that had led her to study the Bonobos. She had a sense of those who would make it ... and those who wouldn't. There was no doubt that Jazz one of those people who not only dealt with change, but embraced it.

"I want to go back to the shadows, the _real_ shadows for a while. Leave rank behind, let things settle and watch as our creation matures," he smiled fondly, a far-off look on his face as he stroked her lightly. "Retire, in your words. Record as much history as I can remember. Record the designations of those I killed and ordered killed. Go back to my first loves; learning, exploring, creating. Enjoy every moment I have with Prowl. Especially that last one."

Amelia smiled at his dimly lit visor. "I don't have a doubt that you'll have it, Jazz. All of it, even if you have to wrestle God and the Devil to get it. I think you'd win."

A deep rumble of a laugh greeted the statement and his visor came on line fully with a wide grin. "I've never failed at what I set my spark on. I don't intend to start now."

The journalist couldn't help laughing with him. It was infectious. So ancient, so full of life, so much fun. She was less than blip in his existence, and yet, for the moment, she was a part of his world, and she reveled in it.

It made her think about those that were far more than blips to him. "So...if you don't mind my asking, are any of those kids of yours around, Jazz? I'd love to hear what it was like to have you for a mom...dad...what would you call it?"

"Carrier, if I carried them. Sire if my bonded carried. The generic is creator; it's the equivalent of parent," his smile dimmed for a moment. "As far as I know, none of my kin have survived. I have a small hope that some might still function, but even I know it's not a realistic one."

There was nothing about his demeanor, voice, expression that revealed it as a lie. Yet, somehow, she knew without a doubt that it was. It was one of those things that had made her an excellent journalist. It hurt like hell sometimes, to know when others were deceiving. But this time it didn't. He obviously had his reasons, and she didn't say a word, though she was certain he could read her like a book, knew that she knew. Maybe it would earn her a little more trust, access to more valuable information, if she could prove herself trustworthy.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Jazz. But even unrealistic hopes sometimes come true," she said quietly. "Maybe I'll find some mech to claim me and live long enough to see _this_ one." She patted his chest.

"Mmm, if you want to be a socket, you'll have no shortage of suitors," he stroked her hair with a soft smile. "It's worth it," he added gently. "All the pain, of loss and carrying and birthing, even seeing them die too young, is worth it."

A hesitant finger touched her face. "Ratchet might be able to help you carry, if you ask him and there's a male you like on base."

His last comment made her forget everything else.

"I ... I'm not sure I could hope for that again, after losing so many and putting my body through so much. But ... I'll think about, Jazz. There are lots of kids who need a parent, though. At this point it feels selfish to keep on trying. Maybe I'm meant to adopt."

"You'll find a kindred spirit in Ironhide there," he said with a gentle smile. "Hound too, though he's more into adopting abandoned animals than children. Drives Mirage crazy," he snickered fondly at memories.

"Well, Hound and I have that in common, too. I have three cats and a dog at home, all of them missing a limb, and in the case of the dog, two. Is that why Ironhide seemed so fond of the little girl? He didn't look like the type to be a softy, but I thought he was about to blow up my partner for taking her photo on his shoulder."

"Oh, he's a _complete_ softie where anything young is concerned, but the little girl is special. She's the daughter of his sockets, which under his protocols makes her his creation too. It wasn't the photo though. It was the sound and flash. It's close enough to a weapons system that it caught his attention. I thought it was utterly hilarious, really. Belle has him wrapped around her tiny finger. Ever seen a mech covered in pink glitter?"

"Um, no. But I'm guessing you are about to show me."

Jazz's grin turned positively giddy. "Unless you don't _want_ to see him in such a compromised state."

She gave the silver mech a very serious look. "Jazz, I'm a journalist. I consider it my professional duty to see as many compromised mechs as possible while I'm on base."

"Oh, I am going to _like_ having you around," he grinned like a kid in a candy story and brought up a hologram of a very large black truck sitting in the middle of a mech-sized living room. Annabelle was laying on the hood decorating the poor thing with all forms of glitter and girly stickers. "Make friends with Sideswipe too. He's got almost as much on everybody as I do. Smokescreen and Red Alert do too, but they refuse to share."

"Oh good lordy, Jazz, I think you just gave us our cover photo." She smiled and gave him a kiss on his bottom metal lip.


	74. Outside Eyes 3:  Blaster's Brood

**Fandom**: Transformers Bayverse  
**Author**: gatekat and femme4jack on LJ  
**Pairing**: Blaster/his brood/Amelia Strongheart  
**Rating**: R  
**Codes**: Slash, Het, Xeno (Transformer/Human), mentions mechpreg, slavery, and touchy religious topics.  
**Summary**: Amelia and Masomakali get a full evening with Blaster and his brood to learn the basics of a very unique and rare Cybertronian subculture.  
**Notes**: Written in the Dathanna de Gray fanverse (community .livejournal .com/ tf_socket_fics)

ink-in-hand let us use her designs for Ramhorn and Zauru .  
"text" organic languages  
~text~ hardline or bond talk  
::text:: comm chatter

* * *

****

Outside Eyes 3: Blaster's Brood

* * *

Three days after the bonding ceremony Amelia and Masomakali were the only two non-residents left on the island, but one wouldn't have known it by the way the mechs and many of the resident humans acted. It really was amazing to watch day-to-day life and realize that they hadn't been putting on pretenses or acting up for the party. Mechs really didn't seem to have any sense of privacy taboos for intimacy with each other or with various organics. They also had time to realized that while the Autobot culture was one of limited boundaries, some mechs were as private as most humans, keeping public intimacy to non-sensual touching, while others enjoyed the public display as much as the act itself.

Now they were on their way to their first real interview of their stay. Raindance had indeed arranged for an entire afternoon and evening, even the full night if they wanted it, with those of her siblings on base and their master. Eight mechs in all from what was arguably the least understood of all surviving Cybertronian castes.

"Have you found out how many sub-cultures are represented on base?" Masomakali asked conversationally as they made the trek to one of the residential buildings near the large alien structure that was the center of duty-life for most of the population.

"Yes and no," she grinned at him. "First thing I learned is that 'sub-culture' is a term that confuses most of them, though they work it out fast enough. There are actually four factors that feed into a given mech's culture: caste, class, city and function. The later two do not figure as prominently, though among some, like the warriors, function is the primary factor."

"How many of those differences still exist, after spending most of their existence at war?" Masomakali pondered aloud. "And will the differences start reasserting themselves with peace?"

"From what I've gathered, memories of it exist, a few mechs hold onto parts of it. Mirage being a noble, Sideswipe, Sunstreaker and Ironhide being sparked warriors, Optimus being Prime. There seems to be an inherent response to some castes, but the legal side of things is long gone, since everyone became military. Rank in the army outweighs caste, class and the rest."

"Did you find out what caste Jazz is?" he said the name in a gently teasing tone. He was certain she was still on cloud nine from the afternoon she had spent in his quarters after he had kindled. "Since we already know he outranks everyone other than Prime."

"His own," she laughed easily as they entered the building and walked down the mech-sized corridor to Blaster's quarters. "He pre-dates the caste systems, and nearly everything else. Depending on who you talk to, he was either the worst criminal, something even less than the untouchables of India, or he was of the highest caste, a priest-type. With that long a life, he's probably been everything."

Masomakali wiggled his eyebrows at her teasingly. "You always have been attracted to the dangerous types," he said softly as he pushed the button at their level to announce their arrival.

"They are always so much more interesting, Maso," she admitted with a laugh even as the door slid open to reveal a gigantic main room full of chairs, couches and other furniture suited for a many individuals the size of Raindance, who was a bit taller than Masomakali, along with furnishings a mech who was large by any standard. The central focus of the space was an entertainment center that put Hang 10 to shame. This one was like a floating hologram playing dozens of channels at once. It was currently muted, but they were both sure that only happened when the door slid open.

"Amelia, Masomakali, welcome," the playful, musically resonant voice of the symbiot master greeted them as he rose from the largest couch. "Come in. Much of my gang is here, though a few are on duty."

"Thanks for having us, Blaster," Amelia said warmly, walking up to him and holding out her hand with a grin, showing no fear of his size or odd, partially skeletal appearance.

Masomakali gave a smile of his own, noting that there were one section of the mech's frame that were different from the previous night; a center section inside his right ribcage was now filled in, giving that section of his chassis a more normal look.

"We do appreciate you making the time for us. We were fascinated by our conversations with Raindance at the bonding celebration," the photographer added.

Looking around he took note of the two feline mechs who had come forward at the bonding ceremony. They were lying stretched out on a hammock-like couch, snuggled into each other. Another that strangely resembled a blue rhino with sharpened plate armor was eyeing them warily from the same couch Blaster had been sitting on. Raindance was sprawled on one of the smaller couches with Grand Slam laying against and half on top of her.

Blaster grinned, his free ribs clicking in excitement. "It's a real pleasure to be asked to talk about our caste. Have a seat anywhere you like."

They both found seats close to their own size thanks to the bipedal symbiots who were not all that taller than they were. The main door slid open just as they were sitting, a small mech slightly shorter than Raindance entering with a spring in his step.

"Sorry I'm late. Miles and I were watching game 7 of the AL championship."

"Oh, who won?" Amelia asked with excitement that was personal.

"The Mariners!" the mech said with a surprised laugh. "And I have the credits to prove it."

"Hot damn!" Amelia pumped her fist in triumph. "About time."

"You've got that right," the mech agreed as he practically bounced over the Blaster and hopped up on his lap. The big mech laughed. "This is Eject, who's utterly obsessed with sports. Any world, any kind, if he doesn't know it, it didn't happen. You saw Steeljaw and Blacksnap at the bonding ceremony," he motioned to the felines lounging together. "Grand Slam and Raindance, my journalistic team. Ramhorn, our personal defense system," he pointed at the rhino-like mech who was still giving them sideways looks. "And this," he tapped the filled-in space in his right ribcage, "is Rewind, our trivia buff."

Amelia looked around her, beaming. She wasn't sure where to start. Rewind was _in_ Blaster! Did he sleep...or rather recharge there? And they had their own pair of journalists! Perhaps they could team up, and then the quadrupeds with their animal-like forms. She had so many questions that she felt like a fangirl rather than a reporter.

Masomakali saved her. "Is it alright if I take photos during the interview? My partner will ask most of the questions, though I will ask a few."

"Sure thing," Blaster grinned and relaxed back, the very picture of happy ease surrounded by his closest friends and companions. "Take all the pictures you want. I'm delighted to have you here to learn about us," he focused on Amelia, "there are no silly questions, after all."

"Thanks," she grinned back, completely thrilled. "Is Rewind recharging, or just hanging out? Are you ever all in ... what form would I call that? Not your alt," Alicia stumbled over the words, not eve sure where to start.

"It's a dock, or at least that's the best English translation I've found," Blaster tapped his symbiot and rotated the two rib-like braces out of the way. Rewind's rounded, cube-like form launched forward, the sound and sight of his twisting transformation to land on his feet filling the room. "Rewind was docked. They do recharge in their dock, but it is primarily used to transport them distances and to maintain their synch with me. It is a primary ability that differentiates symbiots from microbots, who are about the same size."

"So you referred to yourselves as being a specific caste. Can you tell me more about that?" She gave Rewind a warm smile as he settled next to Eject, whom he closely resembled, on Blaster's lap, as comfortable as a child or a socket, though clearly an adult mech.

Blaster nodded, his focus on her. "Have you learned about the basics of Cybertronian social structure? Caste, class, city and function."

Amelia shook her head. "Only enough to really confuse myself. I know that the term subculture did not have Cybertronian parallel, though city came close. And I understand that caste ranking, while still remembered, isn't as important as military ranking now."

Masomakali focused in on each of the symbiots, who though obviously knew far more than Blaster was about to explain, were all focused on him. They were clearly connected, but he could not tell if it was parental, as lovers, colleagues, family, or something completely different than any of those.

"The military, the warrior caste before the war, was always outside civilian culture. Parallel in some ways, but tremendously different in others. The war did many terrible things, but destroying the caste structure by forcing everyone into the warrior caste with its culture of rank based on ability was a huge boon for many of us in the lowest castes. It is still unsettling for many of us, or just hard to grasp, that the third and fourth highest-ranking mechs are pre-programmed, the sixth in rank is a symbiot master and the fifth is a sparked warrior. Such things were impossible before the war, even with a Prime who would promote a symbiot master to High Priest; from the seventh caste to the top of the first. It gave all of us hope, in a way, that someday we would be more than barely tolerated."

"What does 'pre-programmed' mean? I thought that Prowl and Smokescreen were from Praxus, the same background as Bluestreak. Are they from a different caste than him?" Amelia had out her tablet and was frantically taking notes and creating a diagram to help her understand.

Blasted hummed during a soft vent of air. "Yes, Bluestreak is a commoner. Perhaps the best comparison would be the freeborn in Europe's middle ages. He was created as a sparkling, with no particular a purpose in mind, but raised much like your children are. Why don't we begin with an overview?"

Amelia nodded her head enthusiastically.

"In the simplest explanation, Cybertronian society had eleven castes just before the war and during its early vorns. The first caste was the Priests. That also included the Lord Prime and the Lord High Protector. The second were the Nobles. Mirage is the only one left, at least that we know about. They controlled much of the commerce, wealth and politics, though that was beginning to change.

"Below them were the Artisans, the third caste. They include the highly skilled creators of art and practical goods, skilled performers, courtesan-level pleasurebots and scientists.

"While the warrior caste had members that rank from commoners, the fifth caste, to the Lord High Protector at the beginning of the war, if you don't know anything but that a mech is a warrior, you assume they are of the forth caste, above commoners but below artisans.

"The fifth caste, commoners, made up the bulk of the population, at least according to the census reports, but not in reality. They were enforcers, managers, crafters, performers and pleasurebots of normal or lesser skill, skilled laborers and merchants."

"It sounds as though caste is synonymous with function for the most part, then, other than among the nobles," she commented, trying to grasp the complex structure.

"No, function is the third factor in describing a mech's place in society. Some castes only have one primary function, it is true, but many do not," Blaster began searching the internet and databases he could access for a better comparison.

Amelia nodded, encouraging him to go on. "So what are the remaining 6 castes? Those ranked below commoners?"

Blaster settled himself, a hand reaching out to stroke Steeljaw, who'd moved from the hammock to rest against his master's leg. "The sixth caste was a very new one, created just before the war. They are free organics of Praxus and Altihex, two cities at the forefront of organic rights.

"Below them is our caste, Symbiot Masters, and by extension our symbiots. To my knowledge there are two of my kind still functioning. Myself, and the Decepticon TIC, Soundwave.

"The eighth caste are non-warrior pre-programmed, mechs who had been property for much of history. They were freed by Sentinel Prime, Optimus' predecessor, but like your world's experiences in freeing slave-classes, they did not advance far, or fast," Blaster's renown good humor dimmed for a moment. "It did not help that they have a much shorter lifespan and more limited programming than mechs kindled into a sparkling frame.

"Below them were those that were not considered fully people. The ninth caste were the Empties. Criminals, homeless, those that live in and off the slums and scrounge rather than work for their needs. While frames from almost every caste can be found among the Empties, most come from within.

"The tenth caste were free organics outside Praxus and Altihex, who were made free by Prime's decree just prior to the beginning of the war. People, but only grudgingly. They were only given respect by the eleventh caste, true slaves and organic property, both things outlawed before the war, but not in practice."

Amelia was frantically diagramming, even though her electronic notepad was also recording the conversation. She wanted to make sure she had a solid foundation before continuing the interview.

"Why were symbiot masters and symbiots of such a low caste? And why did you make-up a caste of your own?" She asked when he paused. She had at least 50 other questions about caste alone, but it could wait.

"Partially because so few outside our caste understand what we actually are, even now. We were perceived as slave masters that stripped our property of their ability to function without us. Legal, way back then, but something that horrified the average mech. There have never been many of us either, so most mechs knew about us by rumor or common gossip. That the symbiot-master bond has no equivalent for normal mechs makes it all the more difficult to explain," Blaster's complexly harmonic voice carried sadness as well as pride in what he was. "We are a caste of our own because we are so different. That we have a very specialized function contributed as well. There are only two things a symbiot master would become. A communications specialist, like myself and Soundwave, or an explorer. Most went into communications."

"I can provide you with a fully interconnected and interactive diagram if you prefer," he offered after a moment more watching her frantic effort to get the information down.

She paused, looked up with a sheepish grin. "That would be wonderful, Blaster, though taking notes does help me process what I'm hearing. So, help me understand the relationship all of you have. You said people on the outside thought of it as a form of slavery. What does it mean for all of you? And how did you become the family you are? Is that even a good word for it? You feel like a family to me."

"Family is a suitable word," Blaster smiled, his clawed fingers caressing Steeljaw absently. "We are a family that chooses each other. It is truth that they require a master or host to survive, though like with sparks requiring organic energy, a symbiot can survive for several vorns without a host. Likewise, I can survive without any symbiots, but such an existence is very unpleasant, as I learned first-hand from Blacksnap. She lost her first host almost six vorns before we met.

"The best description I can come up with is that when a symbiot master or symbiot is created, we are given special programming and a suitable spark to need the bonds we form with each other. We are intended to exist connected, from the moment spark enters frame."

"Made for connection," she murmured to herself. "Other than Blacksnap, were you all made for one another, or did you somehow find each other?"

Blaster smiled, a tender look that passed around the symbiots to various levels. "My original group were made for me. Steeljaw when I was a youngling, Ramhorn when I was upgraded to mechling, Satin and Lace when I upgraded to mech. I commissioned Sonic and Convergence, the avians you saw at the bonding, before the war. The others we rescued and adopted when they lost their hosts."

"So Eject, Rewind, Raindance, Grand Slam, Blockrock, Zauru and Blacksnap all had different hosts originally? Is host a more accurate term than master?"

"Among others," Blaster nodded, a shadow of pain crossing hid features. "We've lost more than Satin and Lace to the war, and occasionally a symbiot will change hosts while the first still functions. As far as translations go, I prefer host. Soundwave prefers master. Both are within the scope of the Cybertronian term. What variation a mech chooses says a lot about his relationship to his symbiots."

"Can you tell me more about the nature of the bond, of your relationship with one another? Is there any sense of the relationship being parental or being lovers?" Amelia inwardly crossed her fingers that the question would not be offensive.

"We are lovers, at least some of the time," Blaster began, his frame relaxed, as were those around him. "Towards those I raised, there is a limited creator-creation bond, similar to a parental one. It is extremely rare, even in current times, for a symbiot or host to have a lover outside our caste, so we find companionship within our own ranks. Since I'm the only Autobot host, that means our choices are limited to each other.

"Our primary bond is the symbiot one, however," he continued. "It is a spark bond, like the ones celebrated at the party, but it is much more one-sided than the one between bondmates, whether they are regular mechs or symbiots. A symbiot's death will ache, for the host and the rest of the team, but it is almost never debilitating, even as it happens."

"A host's death is much more traumatic, though in a very different way than a bonded's," Blacksnap picked up the conversation smoothly. "With a bonded, you loose your other half, an equal that you've traded part of your spark with. While there is physical pain involved, the real danger is emotional; the inability of most to have the will to survive for long with that hole in their spark. Unlike the loss of a socket, the loss of a bonded never fades. It can be blocked, some can learn to live with it, but it never lessens.

"With a host, you loose a small link to your spark, the loss of one or many close to you, but the pain comes from our inability to keep our sparks stable without the host. Rather like with mechs if they don't get organic energy, our sparks will eventually destabilize and disperse without a host to keep them stable."

Amelia nodded, completely fascinated. "Do your sparks need organic energy, then, as well as the connection with a host?" She had not seen any sign of a human sharing their quarters with them.

"We do, though if our host's is well-fed we don't need it nearly as much," Raindance spoke up from where she was snuggling with Grand Slam. "It still feels really good to share."

Amelia's face heated up briefly at that comment, wondering briefly what it would be like to be connected with _all_ of them while sharing. Being with Jazz had already ruined her for normal human sex for a long time.

"How many sockets would your team ideally have?" She looked specifically toward the bonded pair, Blacksnap and Steeljaw, wondering if they would be trying to kindle a spark.

Blaster hummed. "Six or seven. One for the host and one for every two symbiots, give or take."

She couldn't help but to think that finding a group of six of seven humans that could get along well enough in such a close knit group would be challenging to say the least.

Masomakali suddenly spoke up. "So...if you are one of the last 2 hosts left, do you have plans for creating more hosts and symbiots? To rebuild your caste? Could your bonded pairs kindle a host spark or would you have to do that, Blaster?"

"Like pre-programmed mechs, my caste comes completely from the Allspark. We didn't exist before it did. I don't know if the kind of spark that makes a host, or a symbiot, is capable of kindling. I'm not entirely sure we'll find out in the first rounds either. The risks for us are far greater, and the unknowns as well."

Masomakali nodded thoughtfully and returned to photographing the relaxed, domestic scene.

"There are a lot of you. It is normal to have this many symbiots? And how does it affect all of you?" Amelia asked, looking around and adding in the others whom she had briefly seen or heard about.

Blaster let out a soft, reluctant vent and found himself the focus of several silent efforts to console, both physical and emotional.

"For me, the six I had before the war are as many as I should have ever taken on. It is a strain on my spark to support so many, to keep them in tune, especially when most were never meant for me. Adopting outside of having a symbiot spark-bond to one of my own is a stressful thing for a host. Their sparks don't resonant at quite the same frequency as mine. I can maintain their needs, but it takes more effort than with those who were designed with my spark in mind."

Her already high opinion of the symbiot host came close to hitting the tall ceiling. "Is there a hierarchy among you? A chain of command?"

"Oh yeah," Eject grinned at her from where he was sitting on Blaster's lap, still half twisted to comfort his host. "Just like any team. You've got the coach," he patted Blaster's nearest rib strut. "And you've got seniority and skill in the team," he motioned around to the others. "Now Grand Slam and Raindance there have been playing ball the longest, but they've only been on this team for ten thousand vorns. Steeljaw and Ramhorn have been on this team the longest, the oldest siblings you might say, but when it comes to our specialties we outrank the others, no matter how new we are. It's Blaster's final call though."

Amelia grinned at the human-sized mech. "So, this question is for all of you. What question would _you_ like for us to ask? In other words, knowing you are introducing yourselves and your caste to a new species, what do you want us to know about you?"

"That no matter what others say, even for those of us created for a specific host, it's always a _choice_," Steeljaw spoke up, his deep blue optics focused on her. "A symbiot bond is no less mutual than the mate-bond between any two mechs."

"What we did before the war," Raindance suggested.

"How Blaster got us," Rewind piped up.

"Why we're Autobots?" Blacksnap said, though less certain than her fellows.

"Fantastic," Amelia sat forward. "How about all three of those questions, for all of you, and skip of any question you don't wish to answer. Who's first?"

Grand Slam spoke up. "I'm a journalist, like you. I'm the writer/audio reporter for the team, and did that long before the war. I was embedded with the 'Cons early in the war, but they weren't happy when I insisted on reporting not only their philosophy and grievances, but also the atrocities I was seeing. I ... nearly didn't make it out. My host was also in journalism and communications, like most of us. She sacrificed herself to get me out, along with some others."

He looked down, obviously fighting emotion. "Was on my own for quite awhile. I didn't want to join the Autobots, I wanted to remain an impartial journalist, but ... this war really didn't allow that luxury. If you didn't make a choice, 'Cons made for you. I became part of the Autobot communications team and met Blaster and the crew."

"Mostly the same here, but I did images," Raindance added, her voice soft. "We had the same first host. Megatron was after me the moment he realized that I wasn't just taking inspirational pictures of him and of Autobot atrocities, but recording _everything_. Of everyone on the team, we were the most reluctant, but given the choice we had; Soundwave, Blaster or extinguish, it wasn't a difficult choice when it came down to it."

"Would you be interesting in working on this story with Maso and me? Give your own unique journalistic perspective?" Amelia asked with barely contained excitement at the collegial possibilities.

She saw a charge light the pair up, almost literally. Optics brightened, expressions turned brilliantly excited.

"We'd _love_ to," Grand Slam answered for them both, a wide grin on his face.

"Fantastic. We can figure out more about that later. Can we step back a second? You both mentioned reporting atrocities, and Raindance, you said that Megatron only wanted you to show images of Autobot ones. Are you willing to share what those were? I've reported in lots of war zones. I know too well what war can bring out on either side of a conflict."

There was no missing the tension that swept the rest of the room, the rumble from several chassis, though Blaster himself remained neutral, at least for the time being.

"I doubt you'll be allowed to report them, at least not anytime soon," Raindance said hesitantly, all too aware of the politics and her own siblings. "I'm not a free agent anymore, and as much as Prime wants honesty, I don't think that'll make it past the rest of the command."

"I doubted I would," Amelia admitted. "It is something I'm asking on journalist to another. I've been reporting in war zones too much of my career not to understand the concept of the lesser of two evils."

The large mech regarded her, and his symbiots, evenly, calmly, as he considered the request as a host, as an Autobot and as an officer. Each making different demands.

"It will mean you get to see what the Decepticons did as well," his voice wasn't quite as vibrant, memories of far too long recording the war threatening his naturally cheerful nature for a lingering moment. "It is not part of our culture, and to be honest, not something we want to feature in the article. Not their evils or how the war twisted too many mechs."

She nodded her understanding, feeling Masomakali's eyes on her.

"Perhaps it would be something to show another time. Our focus tonight is supposed to be on you and your team," he suggested, clearly frustrated with her that she had, once again, pushed too hard, as she was wont to do.

"Agreed," Blaster nodded, dispelling only some of the tension in the room. "As you can probably guess, it is a subject of tension for us. It is a good example of the difficulties in adoption, especially so many and over such an extended period of time. The opinions and values of the original host are never lost. While all my symbiots agree with the Autobot cause, it is more important to some than others."

Amelia breathed a sigh of relief. She would definitely pursue the other line of questioning with Raindance when they sat down to work out how to do the article together, but Maso was right this time. Sometimes she did push too hard.

"What caused you to become an Autobot, Blaster? And were there any symbiots you were unable to adopt because you were one? Or for other reasons?"

The big mech chuckled. "In simplest terms, I'm an Autobot because I follow the Prime. As low as my caste was, I had a good life and I saw things improving, if slowly. I still understand both reasons mechs joined the rebellion in the beginning, but I simply didn't feel the need to act out my frustrations. The fears many had weren't ones I shared. I wasn't an Autobot back then, just an observer, a civilian, but I already knew if called on, I'd serve the Prime, not the rebellion.

"In the early days, I did my part as a civilian, keeping the comm networks up and running efficiently for everyone who used them. Eventually Prime called on all mechs to defend Cybertron from the rebellion, and I answered him. I learned vorns later than one of my better friends, Soundwave, had chosen to follow Megatron. I still don't understand his choice. I doubt I ever will. It's still a little weird to think that a host could become the head of communications for the Autobots, the sixth in line to command of the entire army.

"None of my original team had issues with my choice, and of those I've adopted since, they came to the Autobots first, for the most part."

"And how about when the war ends. What would you and your team want to do then?" Amelia asked, watching their expressions closely.

"Honestly, our duties won't be changing much," Blaster answered first. "We were communications specialist before the war and during the war. I have no interest in changing that afterwards. Fewer spy missions, more general maintenance and building, but the same general duties. Grand Slam and Raindance will see a lot more work in reporting, joining the international press as the Autobot reps. If a new host is kindled or found, several of my current gang will shift over, I expect. As much as we're family, we're too large a family."

"Do you know what is different about a host spark?" Amelia asked, glancing to the side briefly when she noticed that Masomakali's gaze was on the two journalist-mechs who had begun to discretely stroke one another with hands and cables. True to what they'd seen around base, no one else seemed to blink about it.

"It's never been studied, at least that I'm aware of," Blaster admitted. "Symbiot sparks are slightly better known, though even twins have been studied more. From what I know, I'd say that a host spark is far more stable, frequency-wise, and has something about it that enables it to stabilize smaller sparks."

She glanced again to where Raindance and Grand Slam were now connected by several cables at their necks, chests, and waists, turning back to Blaster with a smile.

"Will your team claim sockets individually? Or will you claim them all? Or everyone?" She couldn't help the massively erotic image came with the idea.

"I usually claim all sockets," Blaster chuckled and gave her a grin. "Since my energy frequency is at the core of the team, any socket I claim is equally effective for all my symbiots. That's not going to hold true if one of them claims the socket," he explained. "That said, I never forbid it. If they make a strong connection and the socket doesn't want to share with all of us, those they do want are the only ones who claim them."

"Have you ever had a socket who _didn't_ want to share with all of you?" She asked, trying to keep the flirtatious tone out of her voice and failing utterly. Masomakali rolled his eyes at her.

Another chuckle greeted the question, this one echoed by snickers and lusty looks from all around, except from the couch where Grand Slam and Raindance were largely oblivious to everything but each other.

"Not by the time they were claimed," Blaster's grin was absolutely wicked in the sexiest way. "Something for you to remember: for as long as sockets have been an option for us, they've been _rare_. We'd be lucky to have one for all of us, and as often as not we'd have to get a charge from someone else's socket."

Amelia felt her face heat as her mind and body started making blatant suggestions to her about what direction the interview ought to go. "And suddenly you have a whole base, if not planet, full of potential...what did Miles call it...energizer bunnies? So, do you all have any in mind yet? What sort of...breed of bunny...suits a family such a yours?"

"I _like_ this one!" Eject suddenly cheered, causing a ripple of amusement to wash around his fellows, even distracting the lovers for a moment.

"You have no taste, but I agree," Blacksnap chuckled at him.

"We're courting Leo Spitz and Jaycee Rill," Blaster answered, still chuckling at the playful enthusiasm of his gang. "To be honest, the idea of having a choice, even a _chance_, at having one of our own, much less the small warren we really need, the only thing that really matters to us is that a potential socket feel comfortable with us. We're coming from a lifetime, our entire functioning, of scarcity, and suddenly there are more than we could ever use. It's seriously processor-blowing."

Amelia snorted in laughter. "More than you could ever use, huh?" She firmly ignored Masomakali's death glare and looked at Eject, "So, why do you like me? The journalist in me needs to know."

"What's not to like?" the sport's loving symbiot leered playfully at her. "Strong energy, lovely curves, pretty face, out-of-the-ballpark personality ... you're all win, babe."

"You know...my partner here is a fine looking man as well. He has most of the ladies and several of the men back at the home office swooning with his mysterious, quiet, sexiness," she winked at the small mech outrageously.

"Amelia!" Masomakali hissed. "We are here to interview them, not proposition them."

"Yeah, and you missed out on a rather spectacular interview with Jazz, Maso. I'm just looking out for your welfare."

"I'm guessing the interview with Jazz ended with you passed out from sexual release," Blaster chuckled along with several snickers from smaller mechs.

"Yeah, he's nice too, but he doesn't have _nearly_ the energy you do," Raindance's moan was equal parts anticipation and response to her lover.

The writer turned to her partner with a cheeky grin, "See, Maso, I've got a lot of energy. I knew that my adult ADHD and sex-obsessiveness was going to be appreciated by someone."

"Try just about _anyone_ on base," Rewind chuckled.

"At least all the mechs," Steeljaw rumbled with amusement. "I think most of the humans have been psychologically scarred by Shekat."

"She has already scarred Maso." Amelia snickered and gave him a friendly jab in the side with her elbow. "I'm not holding my breath for the military men. Not many are going to admit to liking the rubenesque type in front of their buddies."

"But your type is so soft and curvy and affectionate," Grand Slam looked at her briefly before surrendering a deep, resonate moan to Raindance.

Amelia beamed at the comment. "See, I like all of you, too. Maso, you think the home office will fire me if I get one of those sockets in my neck? Because I'm just not seeing the downside to a participant observation study here."

"I'm sure...it would assist you in getting interviews, Amelia, but it might call into question your impartiality," the Tanazanian said dryly.

Steeljaw began to say something, but then seemed to think better of it. Things were very quiet for a moment, and the journalists were certain the symbiots and host were discussing something through their bond.

It was Blaster who finally spoke for them all. "Amelia ... as appealing as that is, it would damage your standing with the article. It would make it look like Autobot propaganda, not a report fitting National Geographic."

She blushed and shook her head, trying to clear it. The sexual energy in the room was almost more than she could take sitting down. "I know. You can blame Jazz. He took away all of my objectivity and I need to gain it back before this becomes a disaster and embarrassment for the magazine and for all of you. This is a very unusual assignment and I keep having to remind myself I'm a professional journalist and not a teenage girl who landed on fantasy island."

A round of snickers and nods greeted the statement, and Blaster smiled at her. "He's very good at that, it's part of his function in several ways. It's actually nice to know he hasn't lost that particular skill since coming back."

"SpecOps and seduction? Yeah, I can see how that goes hand in hand. Have you watched any of the James Bond movies? Oh...now that is a fun question, to get this distracted reporter back on task. I know that Eject likes sports. What do the rest of you like to do when you have time off ... other than each other or the local energizers, that is?"

"Rewind can watch the History channel for orns," Steeljaw spoke up. "Anything to give him more inane trivia to spout off."

"Hey! It's important to understand the history for organics we are partnering with," Rewind objected, but made no denial of his interest.

"Ramhorn likes to break things, Steeljaw is the hunter. Put him on a track and he puts bloodhounds to shame," Blaster chuckled. "Blacksnap's favorite hobby is best described as terrorism against random Decepticons."

"And we're still recording history as it happens with as little bias as we can manage," Raindance moaned, shuddering in Grand Slam's arms.

"The avians, Sonic and Convergence, who aren't here, fly whenever they can and love music even more than I do," Blaster picked up again with a fond smile for his symbiots and their quirks. "Graphy, another avian, loves the arts, especially those that have many layers of detail."

He brought up a life-sized hologram of a sauropod-like dinosaur in rich purples and blues with a bit of deep red. After a moment of looking they both realized that its forelegs were actually limited hands and it had a set of spindly, short arms that ended in full hands just in front of them on its chest. "This is Zauru. He has a love of the deep ocean and small, fluffy and feathered animals."

"Fluffy and feathered animals, huh? Have you ever kept a pet?" She asked. Even as the last word left her mouth she realized _something_ was up. Half the symbiots were snickering, the other half had tensed completely and Blaster's focus left the humans entirely as he sorted out the responses.

"About that," Blaster actually seemed a little uncomfortable. "I don't suppose you've worked out that 'pet' is the first translation of 'socket symbiot' that we had?"

Amelia felt her face heat up again before she started laughing so hard she had tear in her eyes. Even Masomakali started chuckling.

"That one wasn't in the pamphlet Jazz made for the press," he explained in his dry voice.

Amelia kept trying to talk, but would hold up her hand and start laughing again.

"Are you ok, Amelia?" the photographer asked her after a moment.

"Oh, Lord have mercy. Of course you would. We're short lived, cute, cuddly, though not necessarily fluffy. And Miles got himself painted as tiger when Prowl and Jazz kindled. Oh Lord...the jokes...and from what I've seen, sockets here have it far better than a debutante's miniature poodle." Amelia wiped her eyes again, relieved that the tension had fled the room and most were laughing with her.

Blaster smiled, relaxed again as he chuckled. "Not exactly how Bumblebee came up with it, but it fits. The full translation is something like 'energetic, desirable, little organic.' Bumblebee was the first to land, and he made much of the language packet we use for English. He saw how dogs are treated and thought the word 'pet' that was used to describe them was accurate for us with our sockets. We didn't work out for a while that sex with a pet on Earth is considered a sickness by most and a crime nearly everywhere."

She burst out laughing again. "God almighty. That must have made for some interesting misunderstandings. We love our pets. But we don't LOVE our pets unless we're shepherds who've been away from the wife too long." She took a few breaths to try to stop laughing and then frowned a little. "The Decepticons find the idea of what you do with your sockets disgusting. Isn't that part of the reason for the war? So...is pet really such a bad translation when it comes to the connotations it has for part of your species?"

"The more we learn, the worse it seems," Blaster went dead serious. "For one, sockets are full, legal citizens of Cybertron, _people_ in every sense of the word. They have the same protections under the law as we do, no matter what many arrangements may look like. Yes, that legal status is a core reason for the war, and yes, the Decepticons do believe what we do is disgusting, but not for the same reasons that most humans view sex with animals as disgusting. The Decepticon objection, as far as I understand it, is that a tool should not be allowed to run free, much less be treated as an equal."

Amelia shook her head in confusion. "I can understand having a major civil disagreement over that, a nasty political battle like some of the social issues in the United States cause. But I can't understand...a war...for as long as you've been at war over that. There must be more to it than disgust."

"You've fought many wars over equal rights for various groups that had been considered property," he reminded her gently. "Though you are also correct. Economics were a huge factor, misunderstanding added to it, and from what I gathered before things went to the pit, many in the lower castes were discontent with their lot. When one of the two co-rulers suddenly called on all mechs to follow him and not Prime, our society fell apart at the seams, literally.

"These days," he vented a dejected sigh and reached over to stroke Steeljaw. "It's long since become a war of Prime against Megatron, Autobot vs. Decepticon, rather than about any policy or set of rights."

"Not that different than our worst conflicts," she said sadly. "Do you think it is possible to make peace with at least some of the remaining Decepticons? You mentioned your friend who sided with Megatron."

"Soundwave," he nodded. "There is always hope, though as he has become either third or fourth in command of the Decepticons, depending on who you ask, hope is limited. I have no doubts that some Decepticons can be integrated into society once more with little more than work. Many more can be brought back with a core memory wipe. I doubt many will accept an end to the war willingly as things stand. Of those who still function, only a handful on either side have known anything but war, and we're pretty much all in the higher ranks. Even if Prime would pardon them, I doubt many would accept it. Like most Autobots, most Decepticons view deactivation ... death ... as preferable to permanent surrender."

Amelia was quiet for a moment, her feelings outweighing her journalistic objectivity for the moment. "It's just...there are so few of you. It seems like...at some point the continuation of your species would take precedence for even the worst of enemies. Are the Decepticons trying to kindle new sparks as well? Would some join you if they knew you'd found a means of survival?"

"I wouldn't be surprised if some do, though not many, given the stigma against bonding in Decepticon culture," he vented again as Blacksnap joined her bonded to press against Blaster in silent support. "That Seekers don't need to bond to kindle is well known, though even they haven't managed to kindle in eons. Everyone else does require a bond like Jolt and Killblade's. It's really not much of a draw unless the mech has incredibly dominant caretaker protocols, something that's rare even among Autobots."

"Caretaker protocols ... is that sort of like a maternal instinct?"

"Yes, very similar," he nodded. "Watch Ironhide, particularly around Annabelle Lennox. He has the strongest caretaker protocols still around, though they are from a guardian base, so heavily influenced by his warrior core code."

The human journalists looked at one another and grinned. "The photo of the two of them will likely be on the cover, if he and her parents allow it," Masomakali commented.

"And considering he looked like he wanted to squish you for taking it Maso, what are the chances of that?" Amelia affectionately patted her partner on the shoulder.

"Extremely good," Blaster chuckled deeply. "Prime can override them both. They _are_ all Autobots, military. His authority does exceed their own, much like how humans give up many of their rights when they join a military. Prime rarely utilizes that authority, but he does have it."

"Jazz would love it too," Rewind snickered. "Something to tease old Hide about for vorns."

"You know, that mech has a lot of fun at Ironhide's expense. He already showed me footage going back ... almost as far as Ironhide does," Amelia leaned back against her hands, giving a conspiratorial look. "Ok, I want the scoop. Who is getting together with whom, who else are likely to try for wee sparklets soon, and anything else juicy."

"I thought we worked for National Geographic, not National Enquirer, Melia," Masomakali said softly, rolling his eyes.

"The _people_ want to know, Maso. This is valuable cultural information."

Blaster laughed, as did several symbiots. "Okay, who's with who. You were introduced to all the bonded couples on base at the ceremony. Long terms unbonded ones include Chromia and Ironhide, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, Optimus Prime and Ultra Magnus, and the gestalt teams. Newer couples include Skyfire and Wheeljack, Drift and Perceptor, Shimmerfire and Sideswipe.

"For kindling, Jazz and Prowl obviously. Shimmerfire's carrying by Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, Tread Bolt and Jazz. I'll be trying with Prime soon. I expect all the bonded couples will in the next couple vorns, and quite a few single ones with Prime. Ironhide and Ratchet will once they're reasonably sure they can carry to term without costing the Autobots too much if things go wrong with it and they extinguish."

"Hold the press!" Amelia raised up her hands. " Ok ... so ... Prime can kindle with unbonded mechs ... and you are going to be trying with him. Soon. Wow. How do all of you feel about that? How will it change things for you? I'm guessing it will make that need for a half dozen bunnies all the more important?"

"The Matrix believes he can, Jazz believes he can," Blaster nodded. "It hasn't actually been proven yet. I'm going to be the first. Yes, it will make having several sockets, claimed or not, much more important."

"If it works, it's going to be _so_ good," Raindance shivered in a pleasure that had nothing to do with her lover under her. "They're trying to make a new host spark. It'd be weird raising our own host, but if it works it'll be such a relief for all of us. We get along well enough, but supporting everyone is hard on Blaster and some of us are only just enough of a frequency match to survive."

"That is _so_ fantastic," Amelia grinned, looking around at all of the symbiots and wishing again that her stay on base wasn't a temporary one.

"If it works," Blacksnap's tone was grim. "The first spark kindled was lost. Even Jazz agrees that the risks of the carrier extinguishing is not insignificant, and it's uncommon for a new spark to make it into its frame. We have hope. The risks are great."

Amelia was very quiet, taking in the gravity of the situation. Without Blaster, all of his symbiots would die. There wasn't another host, and creating a new host could be the very thing that brought them to their end.

She looked down at her lap, once again completely losing her sense of professional distance from the people in the room.

"Anyone could write this article," she said quietly, refusing to look at the optics all around her. "It is Maso's photos that everyone will really be interested in. He is the one who is going to present you to the world, shape how you are seen, make them see you as people with physical souls in your chests."

She looked up again. "You should let me help. I know there are plenty of others, but like you said...I've got good energy."

"Not anyone could write it," Grand Slam spoke, shifting to sit up, Raindance sitting next to him and close, still connected by several thin cables. "Not and be fair while seeing us as a good thing. It's a rare thing, Amelia. We need you to be an ambassador for us to the rest of the world. To tell the truth in a way that won't shock unnecessarily, but won't hide what we are either."

"You don't have to be a socket to share your energy," Blaster added, skirting the very limit of acceptable behavior from the looks he was getting. "We have cables that allow us to share, to feed from organics without the implant. It takes special permits, but I doubt Prime or Ratchet would object if you really want to."

She covered her mouth and tried to hide the grin that came with his offer. "Um ... yeah ... I sorta already know that, but I'm not going to reveal my sources. I just wasn't aware it was common knowledge."

Blaster smiled back. "I'm a senior officer and communications chief. I know almost as much as Jazz does from his network, sometimes more. If it's broadcast, I pick it up."

"Well, if Prime and Ratchet agree, I'd be thrilled to help...in my off hours...if you'd like for me to, that is."

"Once I'm carrying, I'm not going to turn down _any_ charge," Blaster grinned at her. "Especially not when the energy is as hot as yours. But back to the interview," he chuckled as Grand Slam rolled his optics. "What else can we tell you?"

She glanced at Masomakali for a moment, a silent, intuitive conversation seeming to happen between them without words. "Tell me more about your caste, about what it was like before the war, when there were more than two hosts. What was your culture like? What was it like growing up as a host?"

"That's a big question," Blaster smiled, relaxed and settled back in the couch, Eject and Rewind still on his lap, Steeljaw at his side and Blacksnap curled up against his leg.

"Growing up was ... normal. I don't know any other way to say it. I don't know how other castes grew up, not really. Like most caste systems you are familiar with, I was made for creators of the same type I am. TacRep was a communications network analyst for Sentinel Prime in Iacon, Electron was systems repair in Praxis and Windswept was a ... government bounty hunter is the best translation, I believe."

Masomakali got up quietly while Blaster spoke, taking close-ups of the symbiots as they watched and listened to their host.

"You had three creators, three parents?" Amelia asked, blinking even as it hit her that, duh, it wasn't like biology ruled who could be what.

"Yes," Blaster nodded. "Uncommon, but triads and more did happen outside the Seekers. They are all my creators because they all paid for the commissioning of my frame and paid the fees to have my spark kindled from the Allspark. They originally believed I would be a hunter, like Windswept, so my first symbiot was designed with that in mind. It turned out to be a phase I grew out of, but I've always found Steeljaw useful, no matter what position I was in."

"Were your creators' sparkbonded to one another? And how would that affect their relationship with their symbiots?" Amelia asked eagerly.

"My creators weren't bonded, though they were very close," he shook his head. "To be honest, I don't know if a host can bond, though since symbiots can, I expect we can as well. I've just never known a bonded host. It does complicate things when symbiots are taken into account. All the extra connections have to agree to the new bonds or it won't hold. Though if a host did bond, if they extinguished and their bonded didn't, I expect all the symbiots would go to the surviving host without forming new bonds. Of course, knowing what I do now, that may be why hosts didn't bond. That much extra draw on a spark already severely weakened and wanting to extinguish could be more than anyone could take. I'm not sure I want to contemplate what it would happen if the bonded wasn't a host."

Amelia nodded her understanding, as limited as it was. She could only imagine how much strain that many bonds could put on a mech.

"So you grew up with three creators who all were hosts. Did you have much interaction outside of your caste, and were you aware of the prejudices against your caste as a youngling?"

"I had some interactions, primarily with upper level commoners who were managers and overseers when I was nearing my mechling upgrade and afterwards as I went into the workforce," he said thoughtfully. "I met those of lower and upper castes in my duties, though interactions were very limited. All my friends and most of my playmates were my creators, their symbiots and the occasional friend of theirs that had a sparkling. Unlike your ways, most castes who performed a specific function train for it all their existence. I played games, but they were all related to developing the skills I would need as an adult. General education is very limited, though as a comm specialist I knew I lot more than most from exposure.

"I knew early on there were prejudices, even outright hatred, of my caste and others, and that the system wasn't designed to reward effort or achievement. Even if you did very well, earned or acquired wealth greater than a noble, your caste could only change by decree of the Lord Prime, and that was effectively reserved for his priests. That's how Soundwave went from host to priest, almost the greatest leap in history."

"Does any of that prejudice remain?" Amelia asked, taking in both Blaster's and the symbiots' non-verbal reactions to the topic and question.

"Some," Blaster admitted. "Though I rank them all, so they tend to keep it quiet. Army learned right quick not to mess with senior comms officers if they wanted to have their messages show up that vorn. Mirage and Cliffjumper are the only ones here who make serious grumbles, but they both _treat_ us well enough, and they both grumble about nearly everything, so it's not personal or even caste related. With fewer than five hundred mechs alive between both factions and the Neutrals from a starting population of over a million, anyone who couldn't adapt to the army ways didn't last.

"The army, the warrior caste, is the most egalitarian we created," he continued as Amelia sat in rapt fascination. "Though they never left the caste, rank within the caste ranged from the equivalent of low-level commoners to high ranking nobles. That rank was based on skill, talent and experience more than connections or creators. Such a high percentage of them were government commissions with no connections to any living mech that they had to find other ways of handling status and relative rank."

Amelia was staggered by the figure Blaster gave. Only a few hundred out of over _one million_. She realized she was gaping, and quickly put her professional look back on. "I know what our readers will ask when they read those figures. They will say 'how could a civilization so advanced, so much more intelligent and long lived allow itself to remain at war for this long, to fight nearly to extinction?'"

Everyone looked uncomfortable for a long, silent moment before focusing fully on Blaster, who vented a distressed sounding sigh and made himself look at her.

"It's not something you might even be allowed to tell, at least not as I tell it," he began quietly. "Prime dislikes the comparison and what he really is to us. I'm sure you saw the reverence we have for him at the ceremony. The reason for it is his spark. The prismatic colors you saw are unique. Only the Prime's spark looks like that, with all the colors a spark comes in."

He shifted uneasily again. "Despite what he says, what the Autobot party line is, The Lord Prime is a living god. A direct connection to Primus from the moment he is kindled. His word is law. There hasn't been a sane mech in history that's _capable_ of standing before him and refusing him anything. Most would die for him without hesitation, and feel good about doing so."

Amelia and Masomakali stared at each other for a moment. She felt she had opened Pandora's box. She turned back toward Blaster. "After the press conference, I joked that I felt we had disappointed God himself. Jazz said that Prime is not a god," she said quietly.

"Prime is not a god, he is a god given form," Blaster tried to explain.

"He's like Primus's avatar," Rewind offered. "Not a god, but a direct physical link to one from the moment he was kindled."

"Prime spends a lot of effort trying to make sure the party line distances him as much from Primus as he can manage, even if none of _us_ believe it," Blaster vented a deep gust of air. "Here, it serves a practical purpose, given the less than stable relationship religion, faith and various gods have in human cultures. Having it said that we are lead by a living god and that he's on Earth with us would cause a great deal of trouble. You don't have anything like the Prime. You don't have the language, in _any_ language, that accurately conveys what he is to us."

"Besides, that was Jazz talking," Raindance spoke up. "Prime is just another mech to him, even if he's a powerful one. Jazz danced with _Prima_, the very first Prime, the very first Cybertronian created by Primus and given free will. He's known every Prime. Served them, fought them, perhaps even killed one. The stories are exaggerated, no doubt, but between us we _know_ enough to recognize there is far more than a grain of truth in the stories and legends about him."

"Yeah, Jazz is a law onto himself every way you want to look at it," Rewind added.

"Speaking of ... what does Jazz's spark look like? What about Prowl's?" Raindance asked excitedly. "I'm sure you saw them on the recording."

Amelia's eyebrows shot up, surprised to have had access to information that others did not. "Well...Prowl's was bright white, like a star. Jazz's was different. His was almost an indigo color. Amethyst I guess I'd call it, but there were dark parts of it, almost like what I'd call a black light, that fled to the center of his spark when they began to merge."

Something stopped her from talking about the bit of darkness that had slipped into the newly forming spark, and Jazz's resigned sadness about that.

Blaster's blue optics darkened. "So it's true. He is the Unmaker's chosen."

"I've been telling you that for vorns," Grand Slam half chuckled.

"So, you said no one who is sane can refuse Prime anything. Are you saying that those who became Decepticons were insane?" Amelia asked, still bewildered by the explanation and not even certain she wanted to ask what they meant about Jazz, for all that she should want to know _everything_.

"They aren't by our standards," Blaster shook his head. "Though if you want to understand Decepticons better, the mechs to talk to would be the defectors and some of Jazz's SpecOps crew. They've actually lived among them. Mirage has spent many vorns there, though not as a Con. Jazz, Drift, Tracks, Dogfight, Flak, Rollbar and Springer have all worn the Decepticon insignia at one time or another; Jazz and Drift were of considerable rank."

Amelia nodded, making some quick notes on her tablet. "I will definitely talk with them. So, back to my question. What does Prime being the ... avatar of your god have to do with how long you've been at war, how it could have gone on so long until so few of you are left?"

Everyone looked at her, a set of expressions she judged to be ranging from disappointment to distress flickering across faces and bodies. The two feline's tails were twitching.

"The Lord Prime was one of two rulers, theoretically of equal power. Prime was the highest-ranking priest. He saw to the people, to our sparks and needs. His co-ruler was the Lord High Protector. He saw to our defense, to law and order. Our last Lord High Protector was Megatron."

"I understand the origins of the war, or at least as well as a I can," Amelia said gently, taking note of how very uncomfortable the whole room was. If she had simply been there for their comfort, she would have stopped the line of questioning long before. But part of her duty was understanding the truth as much as possible, no matter how uncomfortable it made her hosts. "I ... I'm not asking about the origins. I'm asking about the results. And it probably isn't even a fair question, it is probably offensive. But I also know what many fair minded humans are going to say when they consider how long your species has been at war, destroying your own world and driving yourselves close to extinction. They are going to ask why we should allow such a species to live among us. Why should we trust you?"

She held her breath, half expecting the room to erupt in anger or to be thrown out, not just of their quarters, but the island all together. But she knew to truly be fair in their reporting, she had to ask the questions that even she did not wish to ask given how enamored she was with them.

Blaster let out a shuddering vent. "Not insulting, just very uncomfortable. Primus gave us free will, the right and ability to choose our paths, individually and as a race. Yet in that free will, we've chosen to follow half of our leadership, Lord Prime or Lord High Protector, over ourselves or our world." He spoke quietly, not willing to look at her. "Megatron has the same charisma, you'd probably call it, as Prime. It's his spark-right as Lord High Protector.

"What it says about us? That we want to obey a Primus-given leader more than we want to survive. That no matter which side of the conflict we are on, nearly every mech will willingly extinguish for their leader, even if they don't completely believe in the cause that leader fights for.

"Why should you trust us? Because Optimus has stronger organic-protection protocols than mech-protection ones," he continued grimly, the first flicker of displeasure towards his leader evident. "He'll protect organic sentients before he protects his own kind."

Amelia shuddered involuntarily, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable herself. Her hosts felt altogether alien at that moment. She could not imagine a human leader being more protective of the rights of other species than their own.

"Thanks for being willing to talk about what is uncomfortable. I promise I won't push too much more in this direction, but it does bring up a question: There have been defectors from the 'Cons to the Autobots. How about the other way? I can't imagine everyone is happy with that particular set of priorities."

"Yes, though more Autobots go Neutral or rouge than Con," Blaster seemed to settle into an easier subject, at least for him. "It happened mostly early on, when the conflict really did look like it was about what's best for Cybertron. These days I doubt a defector to the Cons would last long enough to tell them he's defecting. Con defectors wouldn't last long with us if it wasn't for Prime and Prowl keeping a close optic on them, and that Jazz gets them first. Pretty much anyone who convinces Jazz they're defecting gets his protection, and Ratchet's, for the effort they put into their adjustment.

"A lot also goes back to the reality that the Decepticons only accept that there are two sides - theirs and everyone else. It's official policy. Anyone who doesn't wear the Decepticon sigil is considered and Autobot and traitor. A lot of mechs joined the Autobots because it was their only chance at surviving. We asked them to fight, but at least we gave them good weapons, what training we could and others to fight beside. We had the energon and medics too, such as existed. It was better than being an unarmed, civilian target in the wastelands."

"'Either you are with us, or you are with the terrorists,'" Masomakali quoted softly, coming out from behind his camera. "I have a question that has been weighing on me. The history we read said that many organic worlds were destroyed by the Decepticons during the war. As horrible as the generators sound, is it possible that more sentient organics have died as a result of the war to protect them than would have been enslaved and tortured if the war had never taken place and generators remained in place? I am from a continent where it is too often proven that war, even for the right reasons, does far more harm than good."

"That's been argued plenty of times, especially after the first few worlds were destroyed," Blaster acknowledged.

"Ya just can't make Prime see _reason_ when it comes to the generators," Eject spoke up.

"Do your kind have anything that you have such an intense, basic reaction to that logic, facts, _nothing_ matters against it?" Blacksnap suddenly asked. "Not a phobia. Things even deeper ingrained."

"Yes," Masomakali acknowledged. "I can find several parallels, things we would go to war over even if it caused more death and pain in the end."

"What is _reason_ when it comes to the generators, Eject," Amelia asked carefully, uncertain if she wanted to hear the answer.

"Exactly what Masomakali said. That in the big picture, fewer _organics_ would have died, fewer worlds would have been destroyed, if he'd chosen another way," the symbiot explained. "Whether to turn a blind optic to the generators or going a _lot_ slower in phasing them out and having organics as equals. Never mind the cost to Cybertron and His people. The Prime is supposed to look after _us_, after _his_ people, first," the small mech's voice rippled, the tremor growing more pronounced as he spoke what was no doubt bordering on traitorous thoughts. Eject looked away, looked up at Blaster, who stroked his back, before he continued. "Maybe Megatron would have still called for war, but if he didn't have so much of the populous behind him, it would not have destroyed so much."

"I don't think seeing reason has anything to do with it. You can argue that in retrospect," Rewind spoke up, venting with frustration. "But we all _felt_ what was happening to organics in the generators. None of us were arguing for going slow back then, when we discovered what was actually happening, that innocents were being tortured for what for them was an eternity. You don't feel something like that and then say 'oh, well, let's just turn a blind optic to this and slowly phase it out.' We were appalled and disgusted and knew we had to _do_ something to end it. I don't see how Prime could look after his own people and _not_ put a stop to that. It was an aberration of everything Primus made us to be. Who could have predicted that instead of seeing reason, seeing that there was a way for us to survive which did not involve torture and abuse of innocents, that so many would go against Primus' given form, refuse to acknowledge that torture was even taking place? Who could have seen that our own kind, our own brothers, would rather destroy every organic world they came across than acknowledge the sentience of what we used for our survival? Prime could not have known how far Megatron would take this. And by the time that amount of destruction was taking place, I don't think there was any turning back. No, the decisions he made, and we made, were _right_ at the time. We can only question it in hindsight."

"There has to be a way that wouldn't have done all _this_," Eject hissed, only barely in English.

"Ways, yes," Grand Slam agreed. "Whether they'd be any better is a debate we'll never answer. Even knowing what we do now there's no easy answer."

"Hiring **Jazz** would have," Eject snapped, using the variant of the designation Jazz used before the war. "You know as well as I do he's never been allowed to take out the Decepticon leadership."

"Both you and Jazz over-estimate his abilities," Rewind calmly replied. "There is a reason that most of the assassinations have been of mid-ranking officers. The command has always kept themselves in separate locations. There are never more than two of them are in one location together at a time. You would never be able to take all of them out at once, and once one had been taken out, security would become so tight around the others that not even Jazz would be able to get in. Don't forget that Jazz had an opportunity to take out Megatron, and he ended up split in two pieces with his spark extinguished. And there is good reason to think that Megatron as a martyr is even more dangerous than Megatron alive. Killing the central charismatic figure of a movement historically rarely kills the movement. In over 3/4 of the cases, it strengthens it, gives the leader a saint-like status that is far too easily manipulated by those in command. It would not have ended the war."

Eject made a mechanical grumble and shut up.

"Okay," Blaster focused on the humans once more. "That rather nicely sums up the way arguments about what could have been done goes. Even now, no one has a good answer for how to avoid the war and free the organics."

"Do you think the Decepticons have similar arguments? About avoiding war or saving your species?" Amelia asked quietly. "Or have your spies ever encountered evidence that they have?"

Blaster shook his head. "It's not healthy for a Decepticon to question what's going on, not once the war was past the initial stages. Those who do would keep it to themselves, defect, or the occasional failed coup. Megatron, like even your own military leaders, are not kind to vocal opposition within their ranks during wartime. We know he's killed many for it."

"Unless you count Starscream, that is," Steeljaw said as he stretched out and put a paw around his mate. "Seeker seems to be able to survive saying just about anything."

"Why is that?" Amelia asked, intrigued.

"He is the Winglord. There are only a few Seekers who would defy their own coding in order to defy him. Without his support, the Seekers would not follow Megatron, and Megatron would surely lose the war with out his air force," Steeljaw explained.

"Up to a few months ago, I'm sure there was little doubt in any flier's processors that when all is said and done, the empire would be rebuilt by the Seekers, with Aerials as second class citizens, but there. The rest of us ... without the Allspark, we were the last of our kind." Raindance spoke up, her wings flexing slightly in emphasis.

"So ... Seeker reproduction is different than everyone else?" Amelia asked, intrigue and glad to be moving on to a different topic.

"Different than ours used to be," Raindance nodded. "They never stopped carrying their new sparks. Until a few months ago, everyone thought that the ability didn't exist for the rest of us, that Seekers and Seeker-kin were unique in the ability."

"So, speaking of procreation, and things that have nothing to do with it, how did some of you come to identify as femmes? And have you always chosen a female gender pronoun, or is that unique to your time on earth? And you mechs, as well, since you could have just as easily been femmes?"

"Most of us are mechs because in the dominant societies, at least as presented and understood, the male of your species are more often the warriors, political and religious leaders. Since we need to interact as equals, we choose to present as the dominant gender.

"Chromia is a femme because in the first gender-differentiated race she encountered the females were larger, the warriors, while the males did much of the chick-rearing and home care, though they were fierce in their own right as well when the home was threatened. It struck a deep harmonic inside her and she's refused to change it, even when she should."

"Our language doesn't have gender distinctions," Eject piped up. "Most of us never connect strongly one way or the other, we just go with whatever seems to work best. We've all been femmes before, we're mechs now, but it's kinda like your French language that assigns gender to everything. It's not real, it's just something that helps others accept us. Not many languages have an 'it' or gender-neutral in common use for people."

"And sometimes, it just feels right," Raindance spoke. "I'm not like Chromia, where I object to being considered 'male', but the female aesthetic is usually what I gravitate towards."

"Then there's Shimmerfire," Eject added. "She's a femme because of the Seeker coding demanding that she breed, and she linked that to female here. While most Cybertronian dialects don't have a term for carrier verses sire, Seekers actually do. They can all carry and sire, but the carrier trait is what is most dominant in her programming right now, so she's a she."

Amelia's eyes were wide in fascination and excitement at the explanation. "So ... with your discovery that you can kindle like a Seeker, do you think that some of your number will choose to reassign themselves as femmes? That could be tremendously fascinating given what Jazz told me about the larger, more heavily armored mechs typically being the carriers. We humans could honestly use a bit of shake-up on our gender understandings, rather than our first alien contact being with a species that is inadvertently reinforcing some of our worst stereotypes. We have plenty of female political and religious leaders, and a growing number of military ones, by the way."

"We have noticed, and it's a good trend," Blaster spoke this time. "There are cultures that the females rule, overtly or quietly, but when the first humans looked at us, they thought 'he'. It is in our nature to oblige the misconception rather than force the issue to be dealt with early on. Your generations pass so quickly compared to us that it won't be a handful of vorns - our year - before your culture, language and thoughts will adapt to what we really are. We are content to let the process happen as naturally as possible."

"So, if Sam and Mikaela had initially referred to Bumblebee as a she, the other original arrivals might all have feminine sounding voices now?" The corner of Amelia's mouth twitched up.

"Many would, yes," Blaster nodded, relaxed with the idea. "Though it wouldn't have changed the statistics of leadership or the common culture in the media that we were all aware of before we even arrived, and thus it would only change the ratio slightly at this point. Prime would likely still have presented as a mech. The rest of the first, and possibly second wave, likely most would be femmes. After that, mostly mechs."

"Why would the third wave of arrivals be mechs?" Amelia leaned back with a relaxed grin, curling her legs underneath her and taking the ice tea that Rewind had suddenly brought to her and Maso without having asked if they were thirsty. Her throat had been dry, and she wondered if the symbiot had somehow noticed.

"Because by then we would have worked out that regardless of first on-the-ground impressions, men still run this planet overall, especially the military."

"Well, at least the majority of the command staff would have been femmes," Amelia said wistfully, "in charge of a mostly mech army."

"Do you have pronouns in your own language to differentiate among those in your society? By frametype, function, or caste, for instance?" Masomakali asked as he continued to snap photos, including one of the wistful look on his partner's face.

"Not in the way human languages do, but yes," Blaster nodded. "Modern Cybertronian languages have five native pronouns. One for mechanical people, one for organic people, one of organic non-people - what you would consider both animals and plants - one for non-organic, non-people objects that move under their own power and one for non-organic, non-people objects that don't move. The earliest Cybertronian language we still have record of, the Language of the Primes, only has two; one for Cybertronians and one for everything else.

"Our verbal language uses tone, pitch, inflection, and harmonics in the same way our written language use additions to the glyphs to add additional information about the subject," he paused and truly sang several notes. "That is my friendly designation in Cybertronian, what my friends would call me. It's stripped out all markers of my origin and function. It is also the form that will almost never change unless I change my designation completely."

He sang another series of notes, nearly three times as long and much more complex.

"That is my formal designation. It is the same base glyph and word, but includes all the information of my origins, whether my creators still function, who they are, my caste, age, function, rank, relationship status, how many symbiots I have and who they are and a few other tidbits that would be desirable to say when introducing myself to someone important. They both mean, in essence, 'he' or 'I', depending on who is speaking."

"So not truly a pronoun to be used in place of a designation, but indicators in your designation that you are a Cybertronian person, as well as information about your past and current status?" Masomakali clarified.

"Not quite that simple, but in essence, yes," Blaster nodded. "Cybertronian is a tremendously precise language. It does not deal in generalities the way most human languages do. I could not say 'he' in Cybertronian without nearly a dozen other indicators that would let a listener know precisely who the 'he' in question is, even if I do not know 'his' designation."

"So how would that apply to a non-Cybertronian organic person?" Amelia asked, once again leaning forward in fascination.

Blaster again sang a short series of notes. "You may not have heard your name in English in what I just said, but it was there, untranslated, along with the Cybertronian designation for your planet. We do not normally translate organic names into Cybertronian, though in some cases, especially with claimed sockets, we may give them a Cybertronian designation as a sort of nickname. What I said also indicated that you are a female organic from a socket quality species of a mostly hairless variety, that your function is journalism, that you currently do not have a socket implant, but you have shared with a mech and are willing to do so again."

Amelia felt her jaw hanging open, her eyes wide as she took in just how much information they packed into so few sounds, and that it was the nature of their language. She took a moment simply to absorb the alienness of such a precise language.

"Wow," Masomakali murmured, echoing her thoughts. "Do two Cybertronians ever have the same designation, the way humans can?"

"No," Blaster shook his head. "It's not uncommon when we translate to find we have similar or the same designations in the organic language, but no two Cybertronians in history will ever have the same base designation. It is simply does not happen."

"What makes an organic species 'socket-quality'?" Amelia finally asked, honing in on that particular part of her 'designation' in musical electronic language Blaster spoke/sang. "I'm assuming it is something more than just sentience," she added.

Eject and Rewind chuckled, but Blaster smiled. "It's mostly sentience, however since what we feed on are emotional responses and physical sensations associated with those, the more emotionally ... responsive ... a species is, the better a socket they make."

Amelia realized that if she wasn't careful, this was going to quickly descend into the sexually tormenting flirting that the interview had already degenerated into before. But it was far too fascinating a subject _not_ to bring up, and readers would be fascinated as well.

"So ... in terms of quality, how do humans rate in the bunny department? And are there other species on Earth you'd consider socket-quality?"

"Humans are in the top five, at least, very likely the best energy we've found," Blacksnap said with a chuckle.

"We've confirmed eight socket quality organic species on Earth: humans, bonobos, chimpanzees, orcas, bottlenose dolphins, sperm whales, and elephants - both African and Asian. Twenty more are under investigation," Blaster said simply, giving it time to sink in.

Amelia and Masomakali both gave each other excited grins before she spoke up. "I can't wait to write _that_ part of the article. The fact that you consider other Earth species as sentient is personally thrilling to me."

"We did a feature on bonobos as part of the issue dedicated to Central Africa," she continued. "While most of those species are of the more sexually available variety, female elephants are only in estrus 4 days per year. How would that affect their ability to be a socket?"

"Our nanites can easily shape a species' sexual availability and responsiveness, and the emotional response to sexual pleasure is even more important than the physical pleasure itself." Blaster explained with an easy smile. "We have partnered with socket species whose positive emotions and sensations had little or nothing to do with sexual pleasure. We tend to prefer sexual pleasure as the trigger because it is something we have in common that we enjoy, but there are many other ways to create pleasure in an organic. For some, the simple act of grooming is as pleasurable an activity as sex is for your species."

"I like a nice backrub even better than sex sometimes," Amelia said with a bright smile.

"You've never had sex with us," Eject and Rewind said at the same moment.

"Let me rephrase that," Amelia explained, giggling. "I used to like a nice backrub even more than sex until I came to Diego Garcia and was ruined for ordinary pleasure. Besides, try giving me a backrub. You might find that the energy is pretty damn good."

"We'd love to," Raindance rumbled near a purr. "Still probably have sex, just cause it's fun too."

Amelia glanced over at Masomakali, who had a resigned look on his face. She couldn't take it any longer.

"Well, I appreciate your time today," she announced, shutting down her notebook. "Thank you for how forthright you were, even when discussing the more difficult aspects of your past and present. I'm afraid Maso and my union contract won't allow us to spend any more time in a formal interview today, though participant observation is always allowable in our cultural studies."

She looked around the room at the variety of optics and faces regarding her with a nearly predatory interest.

She neatly stowed her notebook in its case while Masomakali made a show of putting away his camera.

"Now that we are totally off the record, who is hungry?" she asked with a devilish grin.

"Everyone," Blaster's tone was already thick with lust as he leaned forward. "The question is, who do you want to play with the most?"

"You," she nearly whimpered. "All of you. I can't decide. However you want to play, whoever wants to play, just...please..."

"Do you mind if I photograph?" the Tanzanian asked quietly, a tremble his normally ultra-smooth voice. "It won't make it into the magazine, but ... it would still be lovely to document."

"No problems for us," Blaster grinned as he reached forward to pick Amelia up while his symbiots silently slipped out of the way. "You're welcome to a copy from my archives as well."

"Maso is quite the voyeur," Amelia said with a conspiratorial wink. "But he feels safe behind his lenses."

She reached out hesitantly from his hand to touch the one of his oddly skeletal rib-like structures, wondering if his symbiots ever simply 'plugged in' to his frame while he played. His enormous size was having quite an affect on her. He seemed, in some ways, far more alien than Jazz for all his laid back mannerisms.

"He will find this an island where it is difficult not to be one," Blaster chuckled as he stroked her rounded form, rumbling a purr at the sensation.

"The voyeur and the sex addict. See, Maso, we fit it perfectly," she said with a nervous laugh that gave away just how excited she was. Her heart was beating so hard she was sure that everyone in the room could hear it. Then again, they could probably hear it without it beating hard. His finger left tingles behind where it touched, and she closed her eyes for a moment to simply feel, wondering if the tingle was her own reaction or something to do with the host's EM field.

"So...do you have one of those mods that Ratchet isn't supposed to know you have?" She asked breathlessly.

"I do. I suspect most mechs do. Not many have had the benefit of a medic to install sockets in any organics that are willing on the various worlds we've been on. It's a matter of survival."

She pulled hair up from her neck.

"Why don't we just think of this as a matter of survival, Blaster," she suggested, looking straight into his optics. "Because I'm not sure I can survive another minute not plugged in to you, or the rest of this crazy bunch."

Several engines of different sizes revved at her statement and a cable of intermediate size snaked out from a spot below the 'hollow' of his throat, at the very top of his empty rib cage, and integrated into her neck as smoothly as Jazz's had.

~Feeling good?~ a deep mental voice, one she suspected was much more accurate to his 'real' voice, caressed her mind. The most striking thing about it was just how _different_ he felt from Jazz. Even knowing that it was inappropriate, she couldn't help but classify Blaster's mind-voice as solidly maternal.

~Very ... excited, nervous, but very good,~ she answered, watching her own hands shake. She had no idea what to expect being with a group of mechs, though the idea sent a shiver through her sex straight up to her heart which was now practically skipping in her chest.

She had no idea whether Blaster would charge with her alone, whether the one or several or all of the symbiots would join in. Above all, she didn't want to decide. With Jazz she had felt a need to take and retain some measure of control. Now ... with this group of fascinating mechs that she'd been flirting outrageously with the entire interview, she wanted to be the object of whatever they wished or wanted to do. It fed a desire and fantasy so deeply ingrained in her psyche that the mere thought made her want to whimper.

~You have such wonderful thoughts,~ Blaster let out a resonant moan as of his own as cables snaked out to help her undress in his hands, teasing and stroking her shamelessly.

She could feel every optic on her, the hunger of them all, and had little doubt she'd be here until she passed out if they let her.


	75. Prime Kindling 1:  Meetings

**Fandom**: Transformers Bayverse  
**Author**: gatekat and femme4jack on LJ  
**Pairing**: Optimus Prime/Blaster, Jazz/Prowl  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Codes**: slash, mechpreg  
**Summary**: Before Prime and Blaster can get it on, there are a few matters to attend to.  
**Notes**: Written for kurichai for the February 2011 reader contest.  
klik = 1 minute; joor = 1.2 hours; orn = day/32 joor; metacycle = 6 (5.9285) years; vorn = 83 years/14 metacycles  
~text~ hardline, spark, or bond talk  
::text:: comm chatter

* * *

****

Prime Kindling 1: Meetings

* * *

Blaster grinned, his symbiots wishing him well through their bond as he approached the conference room at the command center for an executive officers meeting. The stated reason for the gathering was to discuss the ongoing developments in Burma and around the world now that their presence was public knowledge. Between him and his brood, they had their audios and optics covering just about every journalistic and communications medium on the planet. Blogs were monitored, websites continually checked for updates, news networks recorded, and print media downloaded, and all of it sifted through, categorized and analyzed faster than any human super computer could hope to. He knew that he would be the major source of information at this particular meeting.

However, the stated purpose was not the only purpose for Prime to call a meeting of his senior staff. Though it was not a terribly well kept secret, Prime intended to attempt to kindle a spark with a willing mech. What most did not know was that Blaster, having spoken up as soon as the rumor reached him, was to be the first willing volunteer. He and Prime planned to announce their intentions to the other officers.

If he could not kindle a new host spark, he and his symbiots, along with their counterparts still loyal to Megatron, would be the last of their kind.

There was much at stake, but that did not prevent him from walking with a bounce to his step, buoyed by the love and confidence of those he could truthfully call his family. It was a family that was too large for its host, but that did not keep him from loving each and every spark that depended on his.

He stepped in and nodded to Jazz with a grin, delighted to see the mech looking healthy and happy - which meant the new spark next to his was still strong. Prowl was still in Burma, working on rebuilding something as his penance for the debacle and near-disaster that had become. Not that anyone actually blamed _him_. With Jazz here, he could be as informed as anyone and supply his comments without slowing his efforts in Burma. Red Alert's hologram - translucent and without any substance - looked as perturbed as usual to have to turn any attention away from his security systems. Prime, Ratchet and Lennox had not yet arrived.

**"How's the scraplet?"** Blaster asked with a wide grin, resisting the urge to mimic the humans and put his hand on the carrying mech's chest as though he could feel a kick.

**"Strong for its age,"** Jazz didn't hold back the excited, ecstatic trill that swirled around the words. **"I'm _so_ looking forward to when it's old enough to talk to me, give its designation."**

**"I imagine! When will you start forming its protoform? About the same time as sentience?"** Blaster could not contain his curiosity. He'd been voraciously consuming everything in the databanks about kindling and separation, but Jazz would form an actual protoform from his own, and there was not much in the records about that process. He'd even read just about every resource available online about organic pregnancy, hoping that the wisdom of the organic carriers would assist him in some manner.

**"Construction will begin after a metacycle, though it will be little more than an extremely generic blob until the halfway mark when the spark is sentient and can give direction to it's construction and programming from my resources,"** Jazz purred, a knowing glimmer on his visor. **"The _cravings_ start within a few orns though, and only get worse until it's all over."**

"You and Sarah can commiserate then," Will Lennox commented, Ironhide obviously having translated for him as the two entered. The human had a wide grin on his face, clearly brimming with news.

"Only _I'll_ be having cravings for at least eight metacycles, probably more," Jazz chuckled. "Y'all have to put up with me a lot longer than her."

"Sarah has a little bun in the oven?" Blaster asked, bouncing a bit.

"Just found out. Ratchet picked it up on a scan and was giving her a quick check-up. That's why he is running late." Will said proudly.

"Well congratulations! Something is in the water here, that's for sure," the symbiot master said with a happy bounce. "Were you in on the deed, Hide?"

"In my hands," Ironhide said with gruff affection as Will squirmed in embarrassment. "Annabelle doesn't know yet, so please keep it to yourselves until we've had a chance to inform her," he added with the same seriousness he would treat a weapons demo.

"Sure, sure," Blaster nodded, an agreement that was echoed around the room as mechs found their seats and waited for Prime and Ratchet.

**"Say, who knows why Prime's running late?"** Jazz asked playfully.

**"A cube of high grade says that you do,"** Blaster said in an audible whisper even as the two remaining mechs entered. He watched as Optimus quietly congratulated Hide before shooing him off to go find Sarah. As Prime's guardian, Ironhide had the rank to be present at a senior staff meeting, but it was clear he was anxious to find Sarah after getting the news of her positive result. Will, much to his dismay, was required to be present.

Blaster gave Jazz a sidelong glance. ::Mech needs to have a sparkling of his own,:: he commed on a secure channel as Prime held up his hand for silence.

::No kidding,:: Jazz agreed. ::Almost as bad as Ratch does.::

"Why don't we start with a sparkling report," Prime said with the most easy and relaxed manner he'd had since their arrival on Earth.

"Yeah, how is the little Jazzling?" Will broke in.

Jazz started to respond, before stuttering and giving Will an intent look. Then he roared with laughter. "Jazzling! I like that. So do Prowl and Miles," he added. "The _Jazzling_ is strong, healthy, developing as expected on all counts. It's going to be a strong one if my appetite is anything to go by."

"Is that the appetite for overloads or for enriched energon?" Blaster asked, elbowing the smaller mech teasingly.

"Both, but mostly the former," Jazz actually purred. "Fortunately Prowl's obliging."

"Can we please get started on the actual briefing," Red Alert huffed impatiently before things continued to devolve. "Every moment my attention is divided is another moment when we are not fully secure."

"I thought your attention was already being divided by a certain analyst whom you never let out of your close-range sensors," Ratchet muttered.

"That does not count, she is my _responsibility_," Red Alert responded sharply. "I am perfectly capable of seeing to her needs without compromising security."

::And what fascinating needs she has,:: Blaster silently commented to his favorite partner-in-gossip. ::Have you seen the tapes?::

::Several,:: Jazz rumbled. ::I knew the mech was kinky, but she's got him beat six ways to Sunday. I kinda feel sorry for Inferno, really. Mech really didn't sign up for that.::

::And sorry you should be, considering who signed the mech up in the first place, Yente. Inferno needs a sparkling, too. It would balance things out for him.::

Both mechs appeared, and were, completely attentive to Red Alert's strident security update in light of the recent visit from journalists and dignitaries. They could easily carry on four or five separate conversations via comm and bond and still not miss a word. It was part of both their base functions as information collectors and disseminators.

"And then we have those two journalists from National Geographic literally all over the island!" Red Alert was ranting to a seemingly endlessly patient Prime. "They have flat out _refused_ to turn over their equipment to me for a daily check for compromising information and photographs. They could be secretly smuggling it out before we have a chance to edit it."

::Someone suddenly wants to be a carrier and they think _everyone_ should. Can you imagine what Red would be like with a _sparkling_ to protect as well as an organic?:: Jazz cycled his optics behind his visor. ::You think he's paranoid now, just give him a reason even _sane_ mechs get paranoid.::

::Sane mech like you, huh?::

Blaster teased, earning him one of Jazz's happily dangerous looks.

"Red Alert, the agreement that was made was that all material would be screened before it left the island," Optimus repeated an often-used statement. "They are under no obligation to humor you before they are ready to leave."

"Humor me?" Red sputtered, clearly still close to glitching from the sheer number of visitors the island had hosted, not to mention Laserbeak's untimely appearance. "Laserbeak already proved that there are spies among us, constantly. They could easily be taking sensitive information and turning it over to one of the many who are undoubtedly among us even now!"

::Maybe a sparkling would settle him down a tad? Distract him, like the organic does,:: Blaster speculated. ::I was aiming to get Maggie for myself, you know. The symbiots loved her energy the first time I interviewed her for the position, but there was no way I was going to show interest when Red finally took a fancy to one.::

::I'm still laying bets on more paranoid, not less,:: Jazz snickered with no outside indication of the conversation. ::So, what tactical diversion shall we use this time?:: Jazz grinned at his long-time friend and frequent social co-conspirator. ::New spark emergency would get me thwacked no matter what form it took.::

::Already on it,:: Blaster winked his optic. ::Commed Inferno, and he and Maggie are both running interference down in his lair as we speak. Though you could claim a sudden desperate need for overload because of the wee Jazzling. That would certainly change the focus of the meeting.::

::Mmm, when are you going to kindle?:: Jazz purred, already eager for the pleasure and the charge.

::You mean you don't already know? I'm disappointed.:: Blaster teased as Red Alert's holo suddenly flickered out mid-sentence due, most likely, to overload.

"I'm sure he will be back once he is a bit more settled," Prime said nonchalantly. "Jazz, why don't we start with Prowl's update on Burma."

::It's only polite to ask,:: Jazz teased right back. ::Can't have you overloading too close to it, after all.:: He focused on the meeting. "It's difficult to explain to many that we are neither gods nor monsters, but there's a lot less screaming and running away than he predicted. Reconstruction is at 13% and construction of The Tree House base is at 30%. All well ahead of schedule. Hound reports that he's very pleased with the progress he's making on working with the locals in better hunting and farming practices, and is at 3% of his goal on environmental reconstruction."

"Excellent. How is the interim Prime Minister faring?" Prime asked.

Jazz gave him a dazzling smile. "She's still uneasy in private about how this all went down, but it's getting better. She's been great about subtly showcasing our work in rebuilding the country and earning our keep there. Her popularity has gone up, if anything, both in country and out of it. Won't say it's been totally smooth, but that's politics."

"Inform Prowl that I will be joining him in three days to get my hands dirty for the human press," Optimus said with a relaxed smile, obviously looking forward to trip and the work. He then looked toward Blaster, who hid well the effect it had on his systems, though he was certain Jazz could sense the heat.

"Blaster, before you give us an update on Earth media and communications, please brief us on your conversations with Laserbeak and the negotiations for her release."

"She has been quite agreeable, all things considered," Blaster began.

"Because she knows I get her if she's not," Jazz snickered, a glint of the roiling darkness in him flickering to the surface where all could see it for a moment.

"That too, but she really was only sent to observe the ceremony this time," Blaster continued. "Soundwave is now getting clearance to exchange Glitch, with Rollout added in as a bonus. They're being held by Shockwave, so I made sure he knew the pair has to be _fully functional_ or the deal is off."

"Glitch's alive?" Jazz nearly squeaked, his visor going bright at the news regarding his skilled operative. **"Shockwave?"** his voice suddenly trembled as the designation spilled out in Cybertronian, containing all the respect and fear the speaker held for the mech.

"Did Soundwave imply that Shockwave is in or near this system?" Prime asked, deadly serious. "I thought our intelligence had established that he remained on Cybertron."

"Spacebridge," Ratchet muttered. "They must have opened a spacebridge to Cybertron."

"No, he implied very strongly that he was still on Cybertron and it would take some time after agreements were made to transport Glitch here," Blaster shook his head.

"If they have a spacebridge, it isn't operational yet," Jazz added with utter conviction. "No way could Mirage have missed _that_ going operational."

"So I assume Laserbeak will be in our company for some time. We should use that to our advantage - give her medical care she does not have access among the 'Cons and discretely give her access to a socket. If she will be here as long as it takes for the two to come from Cybertron, she will need a charge," Ratchet said with conviction, his optics brightening.

Blaster looked between medic, Prime and SIC. "Am I trying to get her to defect or influence Soundwave to?"

"Soundwave is the priority. Don't do anything that would anger him," Optimus said gravely. "We have credible intelligence that Ravage has charged with organics before, perhaps not in a very consensual matter, but definitely not generator charges when he is missions. The more of Soundwave's symbiots who have done so, the more influence it will have on him. In this case, it is for her survival. I can't see him objecting."

"No, he's far too pragmatic for that," Blaster shook his head, his empty rib struts shifting with the movement. "It does influence my overall treatment of her, however. Trying to court a symbiot to take a new master is a very different process from trying to use a symbiot to court their current master. I'll do what I can to influence him with her."

"Soundwave would be an even less pleasant enemy if he thought we were attempting to steal one of his symbiots, especially one that he has had as long as her. Wasn't she his original?" Prime asked.

"Yes - she has been with him since he was framed," Blaster confirmed. "And we'd have about as much luck courting her as he would have with my crew."

"How long do you anticipate we will have her?" Will asked, trying to get a handle on the situation. "And who are you planning to ask to charge her?"

"A couple metacycles, possibly three, if the arrangement is accepted," Blaster answered. "Though it could be as little as a year or as long as a dozen vorns depending on the wormholes they are able to access. As for who, unless there is a volunteer, likely Shekat. She's not exactly picky and her energy is good."

Will gave a lopsided grin and gave a snort of amused-relief. "Yes, I'm sure she wouldn't object. I was hoping it didn't have to be me. Knowing I'm Hide's would be an excellent deterrent to poor behavior on her part, and I'm not about to ask one of my soldiers to do something I'm not willing to."

"That idea would go over about as well with Hide as Miles would with Prowl and Jazz," Ratchet murmured, smirking when Jazz growled.

"My presence is an even stronger deterrent," Blaster said with a chuckle, redirecting the conversation. "I may not be _her_ master, but I am the one she has to look too until she's traded. She'll have to dock with me, and she'll have to charge. I'm not about to leave her alone with any organic. Even now, she has constant company in the form of Sonic and Convergence." He paused, then chuckled again. "Who are chatting her up something fierce."

"So will she be under some form of house arrest or in the brig?" Will asked, intrigued by the dynamics involved. "Do avian symbiots reproduce like seekers?" he added, wondering what exactly the _chatting_ was all about.

"As long as she is cooperative, and Blaster on base, she will remain in his custody and a form of house arrest," Prime answered. "As a symbiot, she has more value in influencing her host than she is a safety risk. Not that Red Alert will ever agree."

"No symbiot or host has ever reproduced," Blaster added quietly. "Our caste came exclusively from the Allspark."

"Of course, sorry," Will murmured, his face heating. "I'm still trying to get my head around all of this."

"But speaking of which," Prime added with a grin at Will's embarrassment, "there is a matter I had planned on bringing up at the end of our meeting, but since we are on the topic, there is no reason not to discuss it now." Prime's gaze slid to Blaster, whose engine revved hard in anticipation. "Blaster and I plan to attempt to create a new host spark as the first sparkling by a Prime in far too long."

While not a single mech _in_ the room appeared at all surprised by the news, there was a startled sound as Red Alert's hologram popped back into existence. He clearly had continued to monitor the meeting with whatever portion of his processors his bonded and organic had left free.

**"You are going to do what!"** he squawked.

"According to memories from before the Matrix, both Jazz's and Sam's, a Prime is capable of kindling with anyone, without a bond, much as Seekers can," Optimus told him calmly. "With the Cube gone and so few mechs bonded, Blaster wished to be the first non-seeker to attempt to kindle unbonded. I agreed. It will be a great boon if we can spark a host for half of his symbiots."

**"But there is a Decepticon staying in his quarters! She ... she will inform Soundwave through their bond that Blaster is carrying _your_ heir! Do you have any idea of how much more of a target this makes him? Makes you? They will deliberately target mechs carrying those you kindle!"** Red Alert didn't even bother speaking in English, far too upset to consider Will's presence.

"Red Alert, there is only a small likelihood that Blaster will carry a Prime-spark," Optimus said patiently. "Laserbeak is unlikely to be with us long enough to find out if we do not tell her. But think of the tactical advantage in lowering Decepticon moral when they learn that we have successfully created new sparks without the Cube."

"They will try to take the carrying mechs, or capture the sparklings once they are framed! They will attempt to take you and force you to breed. They are desperate for new life, will do anything to get it," Red Alert nearly sobbed, though he sounded far less strident. "I want full time surveillance in the quarters of any who are carrying, and extra guards. We must tighten security arrangements around them. In addition, you should have extra security when you kindle if you insist on exposing your spark in such a dangerous manner."

"Red Alert, we will provide all the security we can for both carriers and sparklings," Optimus said firmly. "However, kindling is no more dangerous than the merges I have always done with my officers."

::Prime really ought to try one of those healing-merge thing with Red,:: Blaster commented to the mech beside him. :: And is it _really_ true that kindling is no more dangerous than any other merge? The energy involved seems like it would almost have to involve a greater level of risk,:: Blaster leaned slightly toward Jazz in curiosity.

::Red's glitch is in his programming, not his spark, just like Prowl's,:: Jazz shook his head faintly. ::There's nothing for Prime to heal, other than the pain that glitch might cause in his spark. As for kindling ... it's a bit more dangerous, but not significantly so. Far as I know no one's ever extinguished trying to kindle. In separation, yes, but not kindling. It still hurts pretty bad, especially the first time you try.::

Blaster shivered in both desire and trepidation. ::Ratchet is going to insist on being there to monitor. I think he just wants to see for himself, first hand, what it is like for two mechs to kindle, because we both know how much he wants one of his own.::

::Because all the recordings of Prowl 'n me aren't good enough,:: Jazz snickered. ::I think he's just extra-pervy and wants to _smell_ the ozone.::

Somehow in the interim as the two gossiped, Prime managed to calm Red Alert enough to continue the meeting.

"Ratchet, have you made the necessary arrangements?" Optimus asked.

"If you are asking me if Mikaela has consented to copulating with Samuel for old times sake while you mechs do the horizontal tango, then yes, the arrangements have all been made," the CMO deadpanned.

"You know, I remember once upon a time when staff meetings were about military strategy and kicking Decepticon afts," Will reminisced sadly.

"Continuing our species is the best way to ensure victory, Major," Blaster said with an easy grin. "You and Sarah want to join in? The more couples hooked up, the better the energy. Leo and Miles and Shekat and Caurver are going to hook up as well."

Will turned red and gave an uneasy laugh. "I'll ask Sarah. What time is this happy event planned? And will I have to defend myself from Shekat again? That could really put a damper on the mood."

"Tonight, tomorrow and hopefully the next day, and don't worry, Caurver and my symbiots will be taking care of her," Blaster's engine rumbled with a heady rev of desire.

"Once upon a time a couple spent a decaorn or more," Jazz teased the pair. "At least sixteen days."

Prime said with authority. "She knows the rules for being invited. So does Leo."

Will snorted. "Just didn't want to have to defend any body's innocence."

"You still have some of that left, Major? I'm going to have to have a conversation with my Weapons Specialist," Optimus said in the same authoritative voice that left Jazz snickering.

"Are we planning on discussing any other matters in this meeting that actually concern the defense of our current and future bases?" Red Alert broke in, the miniature version of himself crossing his arms.

"You've got a carrier, carrier-to-be, and a father-to-be in the room," Jazz grinned far too much. "You expect something else to be the subject?"

"If the anxious carrier-to-be can concentrate on the subject, I would like an update on what is happening in the media and blogosphere regarding our now public presence. Anything we need to be concerned with or address? After than, I want your preliminary assessment of security measures needed at our Burma base." Prime responded with a patient nod toward Red Alert.

"Most of what is being discussed is to be expected, Prime," Blaster turned immediately professional and serious. "There are some politically powerful and influential voices claiming we are either an invasion force or have been created by the military as instruments of oppression, calling for armed resistance. They have a wide enough following that some may form into terrorist cells. The reaction to the highly edited bonding documentary has been very positive. Of course, there are those that claim it was faked and others who claim we are instruments of evil because of our sensual openness and so-called homoerotic tendencies. One well-known blogger actually has claimed that we are a publicity stunt by left-wing homosexual activists."

"But it's more positive than negative, especially in the States?" Will asked, his tone serious.

"More positive, at least among those who have the power to make things difficult for us. I'm concerned about reactions in the Middle East. Religious and cultural sentiment is clearly not in our favor there. I am working with Arab media affiliates on cultural-specific documentaries on the events in Qatar and Egypt. My greatest concern at this point is the very strong sentiment against our sockets among some radical groups. There are organizations calling for the assassination of any human who affiliates with us. They would not dare take us on directly, but humans make far easier targets."

Jazz gave a low growl. "That they do."

Even Will had been around the mech long enough to recognize the implied 'they try anything and they are _mine_' in the tone.

The human suppressed a shudder as it sank in that what was arguably the deadliest thing Cybertron had ever produced was now as stable as Sarah at her hormal worst and looking for targets. He focused on Blaster instead. "Okay, I know you've been here long enough to know. How about the general populous? Elections change a lot."

"General populace is still slightly more negative than positive, but the documentary changed those perceptions by about 20 points," Blaster said, focusing directly on Will. "The more positive publicity we do, the more we are seen in the public eye, rebuilding, helping with disasters, sharing helpful technology, the more that will change. I'm not seeing anything I'm concerned about in the masses, only in the fringes, and we expected that. Red Alert is already monitoring the groups in question, just like I am, but from a different angle."

"Would it be worth training up some human operatives to infiltrate those groups?" Optimus asked, turning toward Jazz.

"Always," the silver mech nodded. "There is nothing as useful as first-optic, on the ground intel and assessments. Catching a few for a conversation or two would be worth it too." He shot a grin at Will that wasn't at all reassuring. "I'll even return them in the condition I find them in."

"Why do I get the feeling that you haven't had enough chances to scare people lately," Ratchet murmured, privately making contingency plans for when that need came to a head. He just hoped it would be a small lashing out, not a big one - something relatively easy to contain and satisfy.

"I'd prefer we get operatives in there first," Will said seriously, pointedly overlooking Jazz's predatory look. "I'm assuming that there are tools you could provide human operatives that go beyond the normal training our BlackOps receive?"

"Of course," Jazz purred, visibly excited by the project. "Nanites that can let them look, sound and act like a native while retaining their mind. Unbreakable cover stories. Rescue if needed. Real-time comm abilities no human network can find, much less hack. That's what I can do this week. Give me longer and I can manage more."

The commander of human-forces was quiet for a moment. "I want it voluntary, and only after disclosure of the changes that will be made to them. I'd give you a list of likely candidates, but I'm sure you already know more names than I'd give you."

"I agree," Optimus said gravely. "Let's get operatives in by next week, find out what they are planning and whether they are truly a danger to our own."

It hit Will at that moment that if a choice were ever to made between sockets and the rest of humanity, he knew exactly what the choice would be. It was chilling and strangely comforting all at once. The comfort grew stronger as Ironhide brushed against his mind in a wordless gesture of affection-support.

"Whiplash will run the op," Jazz nodded, accepting the conditions without pause. "He's an exceptional infiltrator and handler. I would, but some mechs would object to the extra workload given my _condition_."

"By some mechs do you mean Prowl?" Will asked with a grin. Several stories were already circulating the base about the normally stoic mech's fierce protectiveness of his carrying bonded.

"Him and Mr. Grouchypants there," he waved a hand nonchalantly at Ratchet. "They'd both prefer me to be completely off duty for the next couple vorns."

Will rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Somehow, a bored, carrying Jazz sounds like a public health risk. Sarah certainly is dangerous while pregnant. Best to keep her as busy as possible."

Blaster snickered, Prime grinned and Jazz roared in laughter.

"You got that right," Jazz grinned wickedly. "Prowl knows that intimately well, but his protection protocols are getting in the way. It's kinda cute, really, when he's not driving me crazy over getting enough energon, recharge and not stressing my systems," he flashed his optic band in an eye-roll imitation. "First-time creator nerves."

Prime chuckled and took an even more relaxed posture. "Well, I know all about those. Anything else we need to know on your end, Blaster?"

"Unfortunately, yes. I saved the worst news for last. There are already five documented religious cults dedicated to us, and another to the Decepticons. While normally I don't find such groups to be much of a concern, especially if they remain small, two of them are espousing a form of human sacrifice, and another is suspected of attempted kidnappings of children to raise as future sockets."

"We _definitely_ need to get into those," Jazz went grim. "That's more of a hazard to our future than openly aggressive groups." He cast a gaze at Prime. "Authorization to make direct contact?"

Prime had immediately stiffened, his distress obvious in his pained expression. "Authorized. Harmless groups can be left alone, but I will not tolerate _anyone_ harming innocents in our name or because of us. Work with the local authorities where possible, but we need to nip this in the bud. Bring Smokescreen in on it, as well. He can be an asset in rehabilitation."

Will shook his head sadly, not for the first time feeling deeply ashamed of his own species.

"Will do," Jazz nodded. "We'll keep you to up date on it, real-time." He paused. "I'd like to give it to the girls."

"I trust you, and Silver Shadow and Starjumper," Prime said intently, and it was clear that he did, despite the fiasco in Burma, and more than clear that something had eased considerably between the two in the last decaorn. "Have Prowl release them from rebuilding duty immediately and recall them. This is far more important."

"They can do both," Jazz said. "Rebuilding's good for'm both. For all of us," he added quietly. "This is the lowest workload any of us have had in vorns. It won't be a problem."

Prime nodded in acquiescence. "Agreed, then. I just want this stopped before anyone else is manipulated or harmed."

"Just where are these groups located?" Will asked thoughtfully.

"One of the most dangerous started in the States but has spread to the Caribbean," Blaster said gravely. "Others originate in Papua New Guinea, Australia, central Africa, and Norway."

"Ho, boy. This'll be fun." Jazz vented sharply. "I am so looking forward to reinforcements showing up. A lot of good social mechs are incoming."

"I couldn't agree with you more," Optimus replied. "Red Alert, anything more to report on the security breach at the bonding? And how are things shaping up for our new base?" Prime asked, trying to quickly bring the meeting to a close.

"The Tree House is a vast improvement over Diego Garcia," the CSO responded. "Primarily because we are building it, rather than renovating, though it is lacking the significant clear zone that the island does. Laserbeak has been less than forthcoming on how she arrived, however I suspect it is either an underwater approach or Skywarp. I am doing all I can to close those weaknesses in the security grid. It is taking time."

Optimus nodded. "You have done an outstanding job, especially in the face of our new openness. Any other issues you'd like us to be aware of?" Prime asked with a patient smile, knowing Red Alert appreciated the opportunity to present his latest paranoid theories about what he was monitoring, and, more importantly, that on very memorable and important circumstances, he had been right.

Red Alert beamed. "Our new organic analyst has been doing an outstanding job of finding the weaknesses the current measures have in terms of organic threats, both physical security and systems. I would like to see her test some of the other buildings on base, as well as at the Tree House. In terms of monitoring on base, I have forwarded the designations of five civilians and eight military personnel to Prowl for permission to pursue further investigation of their online contacts and habits."

Jazz quirked an optic ridge under his visor. "What kind of habits?"

"All of those I have mentioned are involved, one way or the other, in writing memoirs or fiction that in some manner connect with us or our technology, or have been attempting to post on blogs with 'inside stories' since we have become public - usually connected somehow with the entertainment industry. I have blocked it, of course, but I am concerned that these may be attempts to get information to the Decepticons," Red Alert explained with calm professionalism.

Jazz nodded, thoughtful, as he accessed the posts and nudged his bonded.

Prowl responded with barely more than a glance at the content.

"Prowl says it's for amusement." Jazz relayed "He's been monitoring it and interviewed several of them. He agrees all such posts should be screened, but the majority can be let through."

Red Alert stiffened. "Even things written for amusement could be used against us, and with groups already targeting our sockets, someone's entertaining romance novel about a mech and an organic could become more ammunition. While I am glad Prowl is investigating the leads I've sent him, I must remind all of you that sometimes the worst security threats are those that are non-intentional."

"He agrees," Jazz nodded, his tone as serious as his bonded's. "It's why he agrees it should be screened fully for such leaks. However, he's also saying that our dear Prime," Jazz gave their leader a cheeky grin as he broke from quoting Prowl, "insists that freedom is a right and as long as a given item does not directly threaten security, it needs to be permitted. When needed, the human will be contacted and their security breach explained. They'll do brig time if they refuse to concede to security needs."

"Red, forward me what you are finding to me as well so I can monitor what is coming up off base regarding it." Blaster added.

Red Alert nodded in agreement. "Of course, Blaster. I will continue to monitor closely, and will report any other concerns. Do you have any objections to my running security drills with my ... with the new security organic on other parts of base?"

"Within _Prowl's_ definition of reasonable," Jazz chuckled at his bonded's phrasing.

"Thank you," Red Alert inclined his head to both the SIC and Prime.

Blaster struggled to suppress a laugh of his own. ::Do I want to know what in Primus-name we just agreed to?::

::Oh, mostly Red chasing his socket down all over base,:: Jazz snickered silently. ::You know how kinky he is, and she's worse.::

"Is there anything else before we wrap this meeting up and Blaster and I move on to securing the future of our kind?" Prime rumbled with a decidedly lustful look at the host.

Laughter erupted around the room.

"Even if I did have something else, there is no way in hell I'm going to try to get in between you and what you are wanting right now, big guy," Will said. "If only US military briefings had _ever_ been this interesting," he added, shaking his head and chuckling.

"Ditto," Jazz agreed, grinning widely. "Have fun you two, and I'm looking forward to setting up the congratulatory party."

"All right," Ratchet huffed, though his optics were bright with excitement. "Let's go, you two. There's an orgy to begin." 


	76. Prime Kindling 2:  Boomer's Kindling

**Fandom**: Transformers Bayverse  
**Author**: gatekat and femme4jack on LJ  
**Pairing**: Optimus Prime/Blaster, Ratchet/Mikaela Banes  
**Rating**: NC-17 mech/mech  
**Codes**: mechsmut, sticky, slash, spark-sex, mechpreg, xeno (human/mech), het  
**Summary**: In the first effort to kindle a mech without a bond, Prime and Blaster try to create a second Autobot host.  
**Notes**: Written for kurichai for the February 2011 reader contest.  
klik = 1 minute; joor = 1.2 hours; orn = day/32 joor; metacycle = 6 (5.9285) years; vorn = 83 years/14 metacycles  
~text~ hardline, bond, or sparks  
::text:: comm chatter

* * *

****

Prime Kindling 2: Boomer's Kindling

* * *

Blaster, for all his outward and inward desire, felt intimidated as he lay on Prime's berth, sockets and symbiots spread around them, already fueling their arousal for several hours. The symbiots they hoped would take to the new host were in their docks, their wills joined with his own. His fingers explored the large, heavily armored form so different from his. Unlike before the war, Prime was now a frontliner in design, while Blaster remained a host; nearly without armor, almost nothing but vitals, needed equipment and the wide open structure to support his symbiots when docked. He, too, looked vastly changed from his original mech frame, though their evolution in form had been very different.

The priest had become a warrior.

The host had become a super-host supporting far more symbiots than all three of his creators combined.

Blaster's spark pulsed in hungry pleasure as he felt the continued buildup from the nine sockets who were connected to him, all of them deliberately blocked from attaining climax until the right moment. That did not stop the sweet flow of emotions from the supportive organics. The energy from three of the females was especially refreshing: the newly carrying Sarah Lennox, Shekat who was born to be a breeder for her kind, and most especially from the journalist Amelia Strongheart who had tried to have a child many times and was ecstatic about having the opportunity to help create a life. Her moans, mixed with giggles, were echoing through the chamber as she was playfully pleasured by Eject and Rewind. The two had immediately laid dibs on the journalist when Ratchet had given permission for her to be connected through a non-socket organic interface cable.

Then there was the even sweeter support, hope, trepidation and encouragement from the symbiots who were docked, connected to his spark, and, for the moment, part of one, complex and multifaceted being, all hoping and yearning for the same thing.

"There is nothing to fear," Prime whispered in Blaster's audio. Large silver hands caressed the nearly filled in main body of his lover, dipping into the many seams and pleasuring the docked symbiots as much as their host. "Soon we will have a second host to share your burden."

Having his Prime say those words was enough to banish every fear that had crept into their pleasure. He couldn't be this close and intimate with the same being who had called him from the Allspark without trusting utterly and completely. Prime could have asked him to take his own spark out of its casing, and he would have done so, fully knowing that it was the _right_ thing to do because it was _Prime_ who asked.

He felt the swell of _yes_ and agreement from all of his symbiots, his _family_ as the humans aptly called them. They were as caught up in the trust Prime's spark inspired as he was.

Code that Blaster never realized he possessed kicked in, urging the _slow_ build-up, to abandon all the modern forms of pleasure. His coded instinct told him that what was most to be desired was the slide of protoform against protoform, the oldest form of passion his kind could remember, its purpose aside from pleasure long forgotten, but now being relearned. Long ago there had been no armor, no mods, only the living liquid metal covered with cilia-like sensory monofilaments, and its nanite-formed internal systems. Long ago, they had grown themselves rather than built their parts.

A low, measured vent of hot air and desire washed over Blaster and the docked symbiots, the rumble of an unearthly powerful engine vibrated them, speaking more eloquently than any words could of Prime's swiftly building, hot desire. The kiss that came next, awash in Prime's EM field as it enveloped them all, redlined all their systems in the space of three sparkbeats.

Gentle touches, fingers dipped in seams caressing wires and cables between them, hungry kisses and EM fields thrust deep into one another's systems - it took every ounce of will Blaster had not to simply open his interface panel and chestplates and demand a good, hard fragging.

Instead he began to slowly tease a single plate of armor from Prime's hip. It came unlatched at the lightest touch, held in place only by the ever-moving sea of sensory monofilaments linking it to Prime's neural network. The impossibly fine yet strong strands were both reluctant to let go of the armor and eager to caress Blaster's fingers, linking, however minutely, the two sensory systems with a tingle of pleasure.

Blaster shuddered at the new sensations that bordered on alien, but were also deeply familiar, not to his own memories files, but on the level of spark.

Like many who had spent most of their existence in war, the only time he took off his armor was when injury demanded it. With symbiots to protect, he could never consider himself "off duty" enough to contemplate removal of his armor, as light as it was, purely for pleasure.

But now, as their sensor systems exquisitely integrated with each touch, he did not think he could get his armor off fast enough, and smiled as his undocked symbiots began assisting both himself and Prime with the process, touching and stroking, taking in the unique sensations as much as their host.

With a core-deep shudder Prime kissed Blaster fiercely, using a trick Jazz had taught him to integrate their systems fully across the monofilaments in a connection even more intimate that hardline cables.

~My brave Blaster,~ Prime sang his officer's designation in the Language of the Primes, their movements restricted to excruciatingly slow slides as the fine sensory filaments grabbed onto each other, wove together and only reluctantly let go to grab a filament a few strands over. ~Such a strong spark.~

~My Lord Prime,~ Blaster chanted in response, his processors overwhelmed with the sheer emotion of the moment. Prime ... their God given form, the leader who had led them through a war that could have extinguished them all, was creating _life_ with him! The first such kindling in recorded history. Something the Matrix had no knowledge of, but which his spark swelled at the rightness of.

He wasn't even aware of the final plates of armor coming off - all save a single one on his wrist containing the cable to the sockets who were all lost in the surges and swells of pleasure. As good as their pleasure felt, all of his attention was given to Prime, and an ever growing connection with him that did not even require cables as their physical sensations became one.

The soft rub of protoform, of monofilaments, was intoxicating to them both, charging their systems as Prime worked his hands down Blaster's sides to rest on his hips. Long, powerful thumbs rubbed inward, teasing the space that usually held his interface panel, where sense-memory would make it erotic.

With a moan Blaster threw his head back, offering his throat to his Prime as his slender legs spread further apart and came up to wrap around the sleek protoform that had once been an elegant high priest and was now his warrior Prime.

They ground together, mimicking spike-to-valve interfacing in the slide of their pelvises, a burn of pleasure from their intertwined filaments going deep within spaces far more intimate than the now-missing valve/spike-upgrades.

Blaster keened in building pleasure, reaching to caress Prime's huge spark chamber as the charge began to build to the point of pain mixed with pleasure.

Sockets, denied their own climaxes, were thrashing, desperate for completion, even as Blaster began to shake in his own desperation for his _Prime_.

Without a sound or thought passed between them, Prime brought his spark chamber fully forward, opening it in a painfully slow spiral as his entire protoform trembled with need as desperate as anything he'd ever felt. Memories of successful kindlings that Jazz had passed on to him guided his movements.

Through it all, when an additional presence made itself known, Blaster couldn't help but notice.

~The Matrix of Leadership,~ the light, curious feminine voice purred in response to his unasked question.

~Why ... feminine?~ Blaster asked, his curiosity unstoppable even though he was barely able to concentrate on anything save the shaking of his frame as his own chamber moved fully forward and spiraled open in response to Prime's.

~My lovely Prime has it fixed in his processors that historians are female because of his first socket's function in her society, so I am female,~ she chuckled with affectionate bemusement for her host.

Blaster cocked an optic ridge at Prime, filing that tidbit away for future conversation before forgetting about anything other than the massive, swirling prismatic spark, one of the few, other than city-formers, larger than his own.

He felt his docked symbiots expose their sparks at the same moment, to be fully part of the merge, adding their internationality to his own to create a host who resonated perfectly with them.

He did not even notice Ratchet moving from a passive monitor of the sockets to an active participant, preparing to release their climaxes at the same moment.

He desired this more than anything he had ever desired before. He was terrified. Above all, he trusted the spark that was slowly, too slowly, reaching for his own. He wanted to plunge himself within it, to be lost in it.

~You must remain self-aware,~ Prime told him firmly, his very processors shaking in his own effort to continue to increase the charge. Both their frames, well equipped to handle massive energy and abuse, were nearly glowing with pent up energy about to be channeled into their merged sparks.

~With me...~ Prime's moan turned into a shattering roar. His body curled forward, driving his hips against Blasters and his spark case down to grind against the one under it.

Pain ... intense pain unlike anything he had ever felt. And pleasure so sweet he thought it might extinguish him - Blaster's coding took over where his conscious will could not, keeping him fully aware of both the pain and the pleasure of two sparks merging in a manner he had never considered possible, with a strength of intention as strong as Primus himself. He felt the energy compress into a single, swirling spot, hovering right next to his spark.

The climaxes of nine organics cascaded into their merged sparks in a torrent of pleasure that the two mechs gleefully poured into the spinning vortex of energy that was beginning to coalesce and become visible.

~For us,~ a soft, determined chorus of symbiots echoed into the energy, focusing their efforts, their energy, into the new spark to imprint on it. Everyone knew there were no guarantees; not of the new spark taking, surviving, or being a host if it did. Yet hope and determination was in the forefront of the pain-filled ecstasy of the fading overload.

Without any more than a break than to unlock his overcharged chassis, Prime nearly attacked Blaster again, driving him towards another peak with relentless determination to succeed for the future.

* * *

Ratchet completed his check on the variety of recharging/unconscious mechs and organics sprawled out on Prime's massive berth and various pieces of furniture surrounding it. All were well - more than well, actually. His sensors had checked and rechecked the brand new spark orbiting to Blaster's own, tethered to it by a near-unbreakable strand of spark energy. Already the new spark was far stronger than the one lost by Hound and Mirage had ever been.

Ratchet showed a rare, gentle smile as he looked at the two mechs, one massive and broad, the other tall and spindly, intertwined with one another, their faceplates the picture of utter relaxation and contentment.

As much as he had feared the kindling of new sparks, and even more danger inherent in their eventual separation from the carrier spark, Ratchet, for the first time in so many vorns, truly felt like a steward of life. He finally wasn't merely fixing soldiers simply to send them back to offline others until they, themselves, were offlined.

Though Mikaela was the only living being he could even hint it to, he wanted to be part of this new hope in a far more intimate manner than simply as physician. Once the war was truly over, once First Aid, Jolt, and several others were fully trained enough to truly take his place...

~You'd better do it before I croak,~ his socket whispered over their bond as she stirred in response to his unshielded longing.

~They won't be trained that soon,~ he whispered back in an apology. ~I can't risk it until there's someone to replace me.~

~First Aid was _sparked_ to be a medic, Ratch,~ she replied in an unguarded, slightly annoyed tone. ~Seriously, how long do you have to train them? And can anyone _really_ ever replace you? If you use that as the criteria, you'll never do it.~

He vented deeply. ~Before the war, medical training and apprenticeship to full surgical instructor, my level of training, would take five hundred vorns, and millennia worth of them in experience to even be considered. Even a sparked medic needs a couple centuries. He's learned a lot in the war, they all have, but there are huge gaps in their knowledge, too. Knowledge they have no way to learn other than by me. The records are long gone.~

He watched as she stretched and sat up, holding out one hand for a cleaning cloth to wipe up the sticky mess Sam had left, ruffling her ex's hair as he snored away with her other.

~But _you_ didn't have all of the time in training, Ratch. You reformatted and took the memories of a off-lined medic,~ she said safely, sending him a brush of affection and understanding before he could object. ~I understand. I really do. You've had far too much weight on those sexy, green shoulders for way too long, and you wouldn't be you if you didn't wait until they were really ready. Just ... you know that there are lots of things besides carrying a spark that could offline you.~

~I know,~ he murmured. ~I know the odds are far higher for battle to end my functioning. It's ... I think it's probably hardcoded into the medic protocols to fear carrying. It's been such a deadly thing for so long.~

~I'm sure it is. I remember your reaction the first time it came up. I literally thought you were going to put Jazz and Prowl in stasis for their own good.~

She held up her arms to be picked up, unselfconscious about how child-like the gesture was.

~How is the sparklet?~ she asked when comfortably settled on his shoulder, putting on a light robe and brushing out her long hair when he handed her both items from his subspace pocket.

~Lennox has dubbed it 'Jazzling',~ he said with no small amount of amusement. ~Which will be its designation for a long time, just because I've never seen anything that created that _look_ on Jazz's faceplates. I love anything that has him at a loss for words. Even Prowl's taken to the designation. It's strong, and definitely Jazz's. Frequency is far closer to him than Prowl.~

~Hmmm...that is hilarious. But I was actually asking about Blaster and Prime's, silly bot. You know ... the one _I_ just got to help make.~ her suacy laught carried through the room.

~Far stronger than the one we lost,~ he chuckled at his own fixation on the older new spark. ~It has me concerned with Prime kindling with smaller mechs. Someone Bumblebee's size couldn't support a new spark that large. Blaster will do fine though. He's a big mech with a very strong spark intended to support others. I can't tell if it'll be a host yet, but it's a large, strong, healthy new spark as far as I can tell.~

~Does the strength of a spark always correspond with its size?~ she asked thoughtfully.

~Yes and no,~ he chuckled. ~The size of the spark impacts how large a frame it can support. A city-mech like Fortress Maximus has a spark large enough to contain Prime's entire frame standing upright. Strength has more to do with longevity and ability to withstand trauma. There were relatively weak but large sparks, and small but extremely strong ones, like Jazz's.~

~So ... could Prime _sparkmerge_ with Fortress Maximus? With a spark that large? And ... does he have a spike?~ Ratchet could feel his socket nearly whimpering with the size-kink imagery that was filling her deliciously creative organic mind.

~Yes and yes, he does,~ he purred, delighted by her kinky thoughts. ~You have not seen action until you've watched two of citymechs go at it.~

This time, Mikeala did whimper aloud at the brief image-memories that Ratchet ghosted through her mind with just enough detail to tantalize her.

"Ah, Mikaela whimpering is always a lovely sound to online to. It usually means _such_ enjoyable things to come," came a rumble from the largest member of the mech and organic pile on Prime's berth.

Ratchet chuckled. "I could not agree more. She's thinking of Fortress Maximus' spike. Such a size kink. Oh, and congratulations. You are now the sire of one very strong, large new spark residing in Blaster's chamber."

The look of complete tenderness on Prime's faceplates had both socket and medic quite literally 'awing' to one another through their bond, both privately mushy in the secrecy of shared thoughts in a manner that neither would _ever_ show the world at large.

Prime looked carefully at Blaster's partially hidden chamber, only the upper portion visible in his protoform chest. He reached out with his hand, cupping the chamber and caressing it with his thumb, making the recharging Blaster shift and arch his back in pleasure before settling again.

"I felt it ... the moment it kindled. Not sentient yet, just brilliant energy, so strong and pure. I'm uncertain whether this is true knowledge, or speculation, but I believe that the more these particular symbiots are docked and consciously communing with the sparkling, the more likely it is to develop into a host."

"Let us hope you're right," Ratchet nodded and unsubspaced an energon cube to hand his leader. "Blaster has stretched himself dangerously thin for far too long to keep them all functioning."

"He certain has. It also means that a truly unique type of spark will not disappear with him," Prime murmured gently. "I will not grieve the end of pre-programmed mechs, but hosts and symbiots were not harmed by their nature."

"Preprogrammed-mechs are no longer a possibility, though we both know that sparklings can be put into frames with enough programming to make that distinction rather moot. It is one thing to have the intention of creating a host-spark. It is another to give a sparkling towers coding," Ratchet huffed.

"None of them suffer the short life Prowl and Red Alert, and those who love them do," Prime said softly. "With such a risk in creating a new spark, in the time and resources required to create one now, it will be much harder for the abuses they suffer to be worthwhile. True pre-programmed mechs were a creation of economic pressure. I do not see that pressure becoming viable again."

Ratchet nodded, keeping his opinions to himself. If he had his way, every sparkling would be given only basic core coding and be allowed to decide who they wished to develop into based on their spark and what they experienced in life. With mechs like Mirage, likely the last of his kind, he knew he was unlikely to get that wish. The medic would always believe that core code designed to shape or influence a mech in any direction was a violation of freedom and autonomy.

~Even we humans have to deal with our genetics, babe,~ Mikaela said gently. ~I agree with you, but folks who focus on what has been lost won't see it your way.~

~Don't remind me. There is much we lost that I can happily say good riddance to.~

Prime, as if reading his thoughts, caressed Blaster's chamber again. "The future is wide open, my friend. Even with culture-specific coding, new sparks will be creating a whole new society, perhaps a whole new world for themselves. They will have their own mistakes to make."

"Just as long as we don't hamstring them with our own," Ratchet grumbled, but then softened. "This is a happy day. Don't let me ruin it. Shall we wake the happy carrier so I can show you both the new spark?"

"As long as he doesn't need more recharge," Prime suppressed a shudder of excitement. "Do you have any idea on how often it is safe for me to do this? Sideswipe was willing to fight to be first. He won't wait long."

In response, Ratchet extended a cable from his wrist to plug into the port next to Prime's spark chamber, initiating a far deeper scan than what he had already done.

"Your spark shows no damage or wear from this. I'm no expert. Jazz is the closest thing we have to one, so you should speak with him. But from what I scan, you could kindle another as soon as your refueled and recharged. Your spark is _strong_, Optimus. As strong as I've seen it since Melodia. Sam has been good for you, along with the other fortunate few you've allowed in your berth." Ratchet pressed a finger between Mikaela's legs suggestively as both his socket and Prime heated at the memory.

"Then I will tell Sideswipe we will try in a month," Prime said thoughtfully. "I would like to be sure we do not loose this one early on."

"We need to have Jazz get a second or third socket for them. Ma-le can't be charging a carrying seeker as well as another spark-hungry mech," Ratchet grumbled, not at all happy with giving them yet another organic who thought the two bladewarriors and their Seeker mate were gods-in-metal.

"Ma-le would try, too. Poor thing would kill herself charging if it made those two happy," Mikaela added.

"Well, I will give them enough credit to know they'd never allow that to happen." Ratchet admitted.

"I will bring it up with Jazz," Prime promised. "The new sockets will be settled in before we kindle. Now ... may I see my first creation?"

Ratchet's frown immediately faded, and he smiled warmly at his Prime. "Of course, Optimus." The medic hardlined into the dataport on Blaster's temple and signaled a slow cycle to online before unplugging and allowing the symbiot-master to stir languidly against Prime's chassis.

"I feel like I've been run over by a very sexy truck," Blaster murmured even before his optics lit.

"You have been," Prime chuckled, deeply amused and giving the half-exposed chamber a gentle stroke. "You're carrying now, my friend."

Primus ... I know ... it is amazing," the host lit his optics, giving a gentle nudge to the symbiots docked in him to emerge so they, too, could see what they had been involved in creating. He pulled Prime into a deep, grateful kiss as they roused.

"Mmm, keep that up and I'll push you down again," Prime rumbled, his interface systems firing eagerly as he gripped Blaster to him.

"Overload is good for the sparkling," came Blaster's static-laced agreement. "We can look _after_ we give it what it needs."

A small nod and Prime guided his lover to his back, kissing him once more as he connected their systems, intent on feeding the energy of both their overloads to the new spark. ~It will be a pleasure.~

Mikaela pushed herself against the finger still nudging her between her thighs. ~Since it appears we have the time, doc. You have a lot of charge racing around your systems from everything you've watched.~

Before the brunette could say 'Primus' she found herself the object of the very best sort of medical attention.


	77. Outside Eyes 4:  Don't Go There

**Fandom**: Transformers Bayverse  
**Author**: gatekat and femme4jack on LJ  
**Pairing**: Jazz/Prowl/Miles Lancaster, Jazz/Lark, Jazz/Amelia Strongheart  
**Rating**: NC-17 for mech/female  
**Codes**: Slash, Xeno (Transformer/Human), Sticky, Mechpreg, Spark Vore, Snuff, Cannibalism, Violence, Torture, Non-Con Claiming, Jazz being scary-freaky and getting off on it  
**Summary**: Amelia and Masomakali have their weekly chat with Jazz, but it doesn't exactly go normally.  
**Notes**: Written in the Dathanna de Gray fanverse (community .livejournal .com/ tf_socket_fics)  
klik = 1 minute, breem = 8.3 minutes; joor = 1.2 hours; orn = day/32 joor; metacycle = 6 (5.9285) years; vorn = 83 years/14 metacycle  
**"text"** translated Cybertronian.  
"text" organic languages  
~text~ bond or cable talk  
::text:: comm chatter

* * *

****

Outside Eyes 4: Don't Go There

* * *

Amelia watched her partner as he took candid photos of various mechs and humans, as well as the large dragon-like alien enjoying the sand and surf at Simpson point. It was a really good day when she got to go to work in a bikini and sarong, taking notes on her tablet while she enjoyed the tropical sun. Thankfully it wasn't a tropical rain today, as the last few days had been for the last couple of weeks. The break from the monsoons seemed to have brought everyone out of their quarters and barracks.

She stood up to stretch, and then suddenly gasped when a huge, dinosaur-like mech surfaced, surrounded by at least a dozen tall black dorsal fins. She hadn't even known that there _were_ Orcas in the Indian Ocean. Was it possible this was the first example she'd seen of non-human, non-alien organics-as-sockets? She'd heard there was a strong possibility of some of the water-going mechs courting the local cetacean life.

Yet another one of the many questions she was dying to ask Jazz, who was due to meet them in moments as part of their weekly check-in with the SIC who was on some form of Autobot maternity leave, though she couldn't imagine he was going to stay on leave for the entire 83 years he carried the sparkling ... and who knew how long until the little one got past the 'must have mommy around always' stage. Or did sparklings even have that stage? And if they did, was Jazz's desk job one he could return to with sparkling on his hip? Or was Prowl going to take that job, since Jazz carried it and the little one _probably_ didn't need nutrient from its carrier like mammals did from their mothers.

Her attention was drawn to the right at a now-familiar sight of the larger of the two mammalian-like aliens, the apply named Wolfkat, in what appeared to be an all out fight with several NEST agents. Given the lack of concern of the mechs watching, it was no doubt more sparing or the like.

She smiled and waved at the young Burmese woman, Kwi-Pa who was walking along the beach, her baby girl tucked away in her colorful mei-tai. Both of them were under the watchful optics of one of the newly bonded mechs. Killblade was observing them from a distance, looking especially tall, and "puffed", as she liked to describe the preening warrior stance with armor expanded.

The posing had only increased since he had bonded with the apprentice medic, Jolt. She wondered if they had kindled yet, and thought about waving Kwi-Pa over to ask, but then thought better of it. Killblade might not appreciate her nosiness, and she had zero desire to upset one of the mechs referred to as a bladewarrior, related as a brother to the set of twins she had been warned strongly against antagonizing or even speaking to without a chaperone. Besides, she was set to interview the newly bonded mechs and their socket later in the month.

She _felt_ tension and distraction ripple through the gathered mechs before she heard Jazz's distinctive voice calling out to her in greeting.

Perhaps some of the relaxing mechs thought they had been caught by their SIC when they were supposed to be on duty? She could imagine him being a hard ass when he had to be, though nothing like his bonded.

"Right here!" she waved at him, making her way awkwardly across the hot sand to where she had dumped her sandals and bag. She glanced over and saw Masomakali take one last photo of the mech frolicking with the Orca pod and head their direction.

"Everyone seems to be on the beach today," she commented with a smile.

"Everyone who can be," he grinned back, his visor glittering in the sunlight in a way she hadn't seen before. "Have you met Paddles?" he motioned past the serf to the robotic plesiosaur and Orcas.

"No, but I assumed that was who he was. Miles told me that an interview with the Dinobots was not such a good idea, but I would love to know about him and the Orcas," she admitted wistfully as the photographer joined them, giving Jazz his bright, shy smile in greeting.

"They're his sockets, the whole pod," Jazz chuckled before neatly folding into his vehicle mode and opening both doors. "He's a friendly one though, assuming he can be convinced to come onto land. His base form handles it just fine, but he's not fond of it. Even less happy than a Seeker, 'cause he can recharge in the water."

The journalists brushed the worst of the sand off of their feet and legs, giving each other a guilty look for the fact that no matter what they did, the living Porsche 918 Spyder Hybrid was about to get sand inside of him. Fortunately, Jazz was the friendly, laid back sort, most of the time. She couldn't imagine what she would have faced with that gold twin.

Deciding without words, Amelia climbed into his driver's seat, letting out a whistle of appreciation for just how sexy his something-other-than-leather interior was. She tried to contain herself from running her hands all over their official Autobot liaison, for Maso's sake.

Jazz just laughed as the doors closed and he took off, driving far too easily over the dry sand. "He knows, pretty. But your instinct's in the right place if we want to get _any_ talking done. I'm pretty much 24/7 horny these days."

"And lucky you, your bonded is on another continent," she said dryly, contenting herself with leaning back as deeply into his seat as she could while Masomakali chuckled quietly. "Is the horny thing part of carrying? Or just a Jazz thing."

"This level is a carrying thing," Jazz explained smoothly. "Overloading creates a huge amount of free electricity in the system, which gets fed to the new spark. It helps it grow. Fortunately for me, Prowl's not the possessive type and I have plenty of friends happy to oblige my needs."

"Is that a different sort of feeding than what organic energy does?" Amelia asked brightly. "It's hard for me to keep all of this straight."

"Yes," Masomakali added in his cultured accent. "I have trouble keeping that straight as well. Energon is for your systems, organic energy for your sparks, but overload also feeds the sparkling?"

"It's the weakest form of energy that can help a spark. Basic electricity. It's like calories without nutrition. Energon is like a balanced meal. Organic energy is like the vitamin D you can't consume or produce without outside assistance ... just that we can't take a pill to help supplement it."

"Can you store up the vitamin D over time, or does it have to be supplemented regularly?" Alicia asked, her bare toes caressing the Autobot's gas pedal.

He paused, a break noticeable even to the humans, as he worked that question over.

"A bit of both," he decided. "It's an inexact translation. You don't have to literally feed your soul like we do. A spark that's absorbed all the organic energy it can will last longer before starvation sets in, kinda like body fat, only there are no down sides. After a socket's lifetime here, a mech's spark that's gorged can go between five and ten vorns without suffering serious problems. One who's only charged enough to keep from suffering issues will feel it after a couple vorns, maybe less. It also depends on the age of the mech. The older one is, the less reserves they have no matter how much they charge. Quality of socket makes a big difference, too."

Amelia wondered vaguely where they were heading, but soon recognized the clearly alien-built structure that, among other things, contained officer's quarters. It would be a shame to be inside on such a beautiful day, but Jazz's quarters were fascinating, and Masomakali hadn't seen them yet.

"So energon cannot help your sparks in that situation, is this correct?" Masomakali asked quietly, a sparkle in his eyes as he switched to a lens more appropriate for indoor photography and close ups as a seamless wall suddenly slid open in front of them allowing Jazz to drive right into a corridor.

"Right," Jazz confirmed, taking the corridors and turns at speed, though not enough to make his passengers ill. "Energon only supports the frame. You don't have a literal equivalent of charging a spark."

Amelia shared a look with her partner that had them both thinking about the unfortunate conversation they'd had with Wheeljack, who had explained to them that when he'd first brought organics to Cybertron as sockets, it was the equivalent of asking a human to have sex with a cockroach instead of exterminating it. She found herself ridiculously relieved that the universe had not given her a soul that needed some form of charging from a another life form.

The mental image, had, of course, not deterred her from accepting Wheeljack's very forward request to charge with her and experience her 'vividly attractive energy'.

The writer felt the corridor sloping, taking them underground on a different route to his quarters than the last time she had been there. Jazz glided to a halt in front of the door, which had just slid open before they arrived. Miles was leaving, as dressed up as she had seen him since the bonding ceremony.

He waved at the two humans, blew a kiss at his mech and hopped on a hover board of some sort, heading to whatever duty he had on base that day.

"See you later, lover," Jazz called after his socket, who suddenly stumbled and fell from his hoverboard and gave the mech a mock-angry look. No doubt, Jazz had been sending the human all sorts of images of what he intended to do to him when he returned. The silver mech opened his doors and waited for Amelia and Masomakali to get out, then transformed with a roll of his shoulder joints that moved down to his pede joints in a smooth wave, blowing his laughing socket a kiss as the blond headed to his duties. "Martini?" he asked, looking toward Amelia as they entered the Porsche's quarters that he shared with his bonded and socket. "Or Miles has beer, wine and soft drinks."

"Starting early?" Amelia asked with a bright smile, walking into the living room. "Because a martini sounds perfect. You want a beer, Mas?"

"Yes," the man nodded, looking around with fascination at quarters clearly set up with both mechs' and a human's comfort in mind.

They both watched as Jazz expertly made her drink and then sliced a lemon with one of his clawed fingers, putting it in the neck of the hefeweizen microbrew he fetched for Masomakali. Then they saw something that _was_ unusual; Jazz made a drink for himself. Not just pouring glowing pink energon into a container, but mixing two colors of the liquid energy together before sprinkling three kinds of powder and silvery filings into it.

"Very early," Jazz chuckled as he passed their drinks to them. "My systems are on extreme overdrive right now."

"So, your kind are allowed to booze it up while pregnant?" Amelia asked with a grin, sitting with Masomakali on a human sized couch that, if she guessed properly, Miles rarely used unless he had organic company.

Jazz laughed brightly as he flopped on down the mech-sized couch across from them, stretched out on his back with his legs on one armrest and his pedes dangling over the edge. It gave them a lovely view of his full profile. "Oh, the fit Prowler would have correcting that one. But for your intent, yes, we are. High grade is just more concentrated energon. It's no different nutrition wise than the normal kind, it just takes less of it to make a day's ration."

Masomakali rolled his eyes in mock-exasperation at his partner's question and then lifted his beer in a silent toast before taking a drink and sighed in appreciation.

"So, you said your systems were on overdrive? What does that feel like, exactly? And how does the high grade make you feel?" Amelia asked, taking a sip of her martini and raising an eyebrow in appreciation at its maker.

"Exhausting," he answered bluntly before sticking a shimmering straw into his drink and sipping it with a relieved and appreciative sound from deep inside his chassis. "I'm burning a lot more energy just existing, systems that haven't had to work in generations are back online and reconfiguring _all_ my internals to make space for the assembly chamber and feed all the extra energy into my spark chamber that we'll need. Protocols are arguing back and forth as to which has priority, what has priority, what gets shut down and what to do to my processors to ensure I don't endanger the sparkling while I'm carrying. My default isn't exactly sparkling-survival friendly, even around here. Add on top that I _can't_ let the setup from the previous time I carred run as is, 'cause I'm obliged not to respond with lethal violence towards a perceived threat unless it's a Con. Even on my good days that isn't an easy line to tread, and that's without all the extra protocols screaming at me that anything not bonded or kin to my spark is a danger.

"_That_ part will settle down in a metacycle or so, less if I'm lucky. Five or six years," he made a grumbling rumble with his engine and stirred his energon with the straw, causing it to glitter brightly before he went back to drinking. "Everything's also prepping to build up reserves so I make it through the time when I literally can't consume enough to keep up. Not energy, but basic material - minerals and the like. My frame's already a hundred pounds heavier and it's going to put on a lot more before it's over. _When_ it's over, I'll have lost mass no matter what I do. That's going to be a pain to try to rebuilt when my personal survival protocols come back on line and _freak_ at the condition I'll be in, even worse than usual since more than a few of the compounds can't be manufactured on Earth yet, and I'll have a sparkling to protect."

"How will you do without them?" she asked innocently, only to suddenly be put on edge by nothing she could name. It wasn't as if he'd moved or changed expression.

"Won't. Protocols won't allow it," he answered simply, his tone decidedly cold. "If nobody gets killed on Earth in the next couple decades for me to assimilate, there'll be a hunt. Prime may not _approve_, but as long as Cons are targeted, he can't reprimand me."

The journalists shared a brief look that spoke volumes. There was a story here. They wanted it. Amelia kept her tone deliberately professional, curious, friendly, and above all, open-minded.

"So, you would have to ... assimilate minerals that can't be produced on earth from someone who fell in battle? What about the 'Cons who died in Egypt whose parts are still being scrapped, or in the actions since then? I read about a raid on an Insecticon hive in Australia..."

"All will do," he said off handedly. "Well, most at any rate. I'm giving others priority on what Ratchet can extract. _I_ can hunt. Shimmerfire's more likely to get herself killed if protocols drive her to try. My systems are also far more efficient at extracting what I need than the tech Ratchet has access to here, but it has to be a very fresh kill, or from a living mech."

"Can you get what you need from a living mech, without killing? Like ... a donation, or something?" she asked, leaning forward with interest, pointedly ignoring the chill that was running up and down her spine.

Jazz paused, sipping on his drink threw the straw, and seemed to think about it.

"Well, yes, but why would I want to when there are so many mechs that need to go away? Donations and dead should be saved for those who don't have the systems for extraction, which is pretty much everyone but me."

Amelia raised her eyebrows and took another sip of martini. A very large sip. She noticed that Masomakali had finished his beer in record time.

There was one word in her head - Vampire - and damn if it wasn't terrifying and sexy all at the same time. And here she thought that she had been interviewing the good guys.

"And why is it that you are the only one with the extraction system, Jazz?"

"Because none of the others were born in a time when Cybertronians consumed more than energy," he shrugged. "I've adapted over the ages, most of it since going Autobot, to be less obvious in my _difference_. Decommissioning a protocol or system doesn't make it inaccessible if I need it, and I made a point of keeping all those that can help me carry or survive. Whether it was with Prowl or my next mate, I've always intended to have more sparklings."

"So, how does the extraction process work, if you don't mind me asking?" She shivered in a strange mixture of dread and arousal. Masomakali, she noticed, had started taking photos of her, as he was inclined to do when something was becoming increasingly uncomfortable or exciting for him. "It sounds sort of vampire-like, to be honest. But then again, there are plenty of humans comparing socket-energy to that as well, including some of the sockets."

Jazz cocked his head slightly, considering them. "Vampire would be taking the energon from their systems. While nasty on many levels, it works for anyone desperate enough. Extraction is more complicated, but far more like something you understand instinctively. I consume the parts that contain the materials I need. It works somewhat like your digestive systems handles meat."

She nodded, unable to hide her wide-eyed fascination with something so familiar and yet so alien. "So, if you were back on Cybertron ... if it hadn't been devastated by war, what would you consume? That is ... unless mechs have always been on the menu?"

"For _me_, they have been, since the first meal I caught myself," Jazz chuckled, a sound that held his usual humor, but also sent every fight or flight system in her body into overdrive as he rolled to his feet with a supple grace that no mechanical thing should possess, downed the last of his drink and went to mix another. "Most of my kind used materials around us, or mechano-animals. In the early days there were not very many of us, and were more than enough raw supplies lying around. That hasn't been true since late in Guardian Prime's reign."

Amelia should have expected it, but she still jumped when Masomakali suddenly got up and ran to Miles's private bathroom, and the sounds of someone violently losing his beer and breakfast.

She looked at Jazz and gave an apologetic cringe. "Maso and I spent six months with a group of pygmies in the Congo. One of the guerrilla groups wiped them out shortly after we were evacuated to Rwanda. They ... they raped, killed, and then cannibalized every man, woman, and child. We had become really close with many of them, reported on the aftermath, but it still triggers him," she said softly, putting her drink down. "I should have warned him before I kept asking questions that would potentially set him off."

There was a flicker along one side of his visor, a motion that reminded her of a quirked eyebrow.

"Ah, yeah," he nodded and finished mixing his second energon cocktail. "It's not a subject I actually get to talk about, at least not with anybody who believes I do it."

Amelia nodded her understanding, torn between fleeing what had become an increasingly uncomfortable conversation and her utter desire to know more, not just professionally. She knew what would win out.

"Hold on a sec, Jazz," she said, getting up and crossing to the bathroom, where she knocked softly on the door. Hearing an affirmative, she went inside and began to gently rub her partner's back.

"You ok?"

"Yes," he said quietly. "Forgive me. It was unprofessional."

"Triggers don't care whether you are tryin' to be professional, Mas. We had friends who were cannibalized." she dug through Miles drawers until she found a washcloth, wet it with cold water and handed it to the gentle Tanzanian. "You want me to continue this one without you? Really far too good an interview to stop now."

He paused in cleaning up, giving her a meaningful look. Jazz was in an odd mood. Perhaps a dangerous one. There was no way he was going to leave her alone with him, even though there was absolutely nothing either one could actually do to protect the other, just as it had been so often in their career together.

Jazz let them talk, giving them the illusion of some privacy by not looking at them as he sprawled on the couch again, a little more upright this time to drink his high grade mixture directly. Internally, he felt a small thrill of the power that came from controlling reactions with nothing more than words and tone. It had been too long, far, far too long, since he'd been able to indulge himself in the finest art of his interrogator's craft.

Amelia got her partner some ice water and sat back down, but Masomakali remained standing.

"Is it all right if I take photos of your quarters while you talk? Just the main living area? Your art work is fascinating," Masomakali asked in his gentile manner as though nothing had happened.

"Go ahead," Jazz waved around the space lazily. "You can go in any door that opens for you too. My workroom and Prowl's office are the only locked doors."

Amelia relaxed, confident that her partner would be okay now that he had something to do.

"So, what gave you a taste for mechs, Jazz," she asked, not beating around the bush.

He chuckled, low, soft and dark, but with an odd note in it. Then he stilled, watching her from behind his visor. A long drink of his drink and he seemed to settle back. "A story comes with that one, something that most mechs think is just a myth, a lesson about good and evil and a way to explain how we came about. A few of us know better."

"I've seen and been told a lot of amazing stories in my career, Jazz, ones that many would never believe," she said softly, with a hint of challenge, the pheromones of her fear and arousal filling the room accompanied by the quiet sounds of the shutter on Masomakali's camera. "Try me."

Jazz smiled at her, a look of honest respect and maybe a little gratitude. "Let's start with the statements. Primus is real. Unicron, the Unmaker, is just as real. What not even Prime will tell you is that they aren't good and evil. They're beyond those labels, those ... limitations. Primus makes. Unicron unmakes. As long as they stay in balance, there is never too much life, or a lack of it."

"Brahma and Shiva," she whispered, almost to herself, then smiled at him to continue before picking up her martini finishing it off.

Jazz nodded. "Want another drink?"

She looked thoughtfully at her empty glass for a moment. "Yes. Yes I do," she shook her head at herself and smirked. She needed something to bring her heart rate down. Having a mechanical being older than at least her galaxy - if not her universe - informing her quite clearly that his deities were real was enough to make her need something stiff. "But I can get it. _You_ just keep on talking."

Jazz nodded and watched her, shifting as she walked around until he was kneeling on the couch with his arms under his chin on the back. "The Unmaker can warp what the Maker creates, but he cannot create directly. If Primus is white and Unicron black, Unicron developed all the shades of gray, while Primus developed the rainbow. Sometimes Unicron will intercept a spark on its way to the living. I was the first of those he ... intercepted. He replaced as much of Primus in me as he could without having my spark rejected by my carrier. Back then, not even they knew what it would do, or if I'd survive long enough for it to matter."

Amelia stopped mid stir and stared at him. "Do you remember?" she asked quietly.

Jazz was silent, then vented slowly. "All of it. I remember everything that's happened to me from the moment Primus sent forth my spark to now. I _can't_ forget. I'm not allowed to," he said with a mixture of anger and misery directed at things he had no control over.

She closed her eyes and nodded, trying to grasp just who she was speaking with and couldn't. He was Jazz, the first mech she had shared with. The one who had made her feel things she had never imagined possible ... a force of creation, not destruction, or at least not only of destruction.

"Tell me more," she invited, bravely walking over to the edge of the couch in a silent plea to be let up and let in, close to his warmth even as his words ran like ice down her neck.

He stared at her for a lingering moment, then twisted to sit on the couch normally and picked her up to join him. He was as warm as she remembered, and just as troubled as the moment he saw the bit of darkness join the new spark orbiting his own.

"My first kill was as a mid-stage youngling, what you'd call a six-year old, give or take a bit. I didn't understand why, only the need. There's a clarity that comes when you have a choice ... do this or die. I chose not to die. The price was consuming the spark of the first mech I found. My carrier's." He paused and looked at her. "Do you know the stages in a mech's lifecycle?"

"Sparkling, youngling, mechling and mech," she recited dutifully, sipping on her drink even though her hand was shaking. She refused to move away from him, even though he had admitted to killing and consuming his equivalent to a mother.

Well, she supposed, if anyone would understand and support his decision in a life or death situation, it would be his own mother.

He nodded at her answer. "My own creations, those I carried, didn't find their hunger until they were mechlings. Those they carried were young mechs. Those they carried not until they were older still, the age when most mechs require organic charges to survive any longer. Those they carried don't register as true kin to me, the Unmaker's trace is too small in them. Enough is still there though, to make others uneasy about them until they learn to hide that they aren't just of Primus."

Amelia nodded in acceptance. "So ... were you able to prepare them for what was coming?" she asked quietly, aware on a level that no matter how Jazz might explain it or rationalize it, what he had done to his carrier had to have left a mark on him ... a mark no child should have to endure, regardless of what some deity did to their soul.

"Far better than I was," he said grimly. "The key is to never teach them that killing for survival is wrong, only illegal. I was there for every hunt, every one of them, until they could kill cleanly and didn't have the jitters about it anymore. When you're raised a hunter, coded for it, it's not that traumatic."

Amelia shifted in her seat, took another gulp of her martini, but refused to look anywhere but the silver mech's visor. "For someone who is an agent of destruction, you have a very strong desire to create," she said softly, not even trying to guess where his story or mood would take him next. "Wouldn't it make more sense for an agent of chaos to be a Decepticon?"

He chuckled, a strange mixture of honest humor and dark amusement. "I was for quite a while. It was fun, a lot more enjoyable than my life now. Then Prowl got caught, and he caught my attention, completely." His voice dropped to not much above a murmur before he took a long swig of his drink. "I knew when I saw him that my time as a Con was over."

"What isn't enjoyable about your life now, Jazz?" she asked softly, pure curiosity mixing with dread. A part of her brain was screaming in objection to someone who found being a Decepticon "fun" now being the SIC of the ones who supposedly were the "good guys" in this conflict ... or at least the ones who were going to keep the human race from being wiped out in it.

He let his head fall back a bit, his visor staring at the ceiling and vented, sending a hot gust of air over her. "Ironhide, mostly. How much stress Prowl's under. Being SIC. I hate being responsible for mechs that aren't _mine_. Clade leadership I'm good at. Leading an entire bloody _civilization_? I never want to think about how much I did to myself to become that, not that I'm all that good at it anyway. But mostly how much at odds Prime and this culture are to what I was created to be, what I have to be just to survive. It's not like I can _ever_ be a real Autobot. If it wasn't for the war giving me so many legitimate reasons to kill, I could never be this public. I'm not like the others. I _have_ to kill to survive."

The gentle click of Maso's shutter along with the hum of Jazz's systems and her own heart and breathing were the only sounds for a moment as she tried to understand, to figure out what to say. "So," she finally said with a half smile. "Do I have this right? You were created ... or at least changed right after your creation, to be an agent of chaos among your kind. And somehow, you have ended up as one of the leaders and preservers of what is left of that very civilization. In human terms, you were born an avatar of Shiva, and now you are working side by side the avatar of Brahma, but both of you are in the service of Vishnu - just trying to live."

Jazz took a moment to look things up, then chuckled. "Something like that, except that there is no Vishnu. We only have two deities; Primus and Unicron. The Maker and the Unmaker. But yes, Shiva is similar to the Unmaker and Brahma is like Primus."

"Well, yes, and in your case, you know the forces are real. We know they are real forces - creation and chaos, order and entropy, but their personifications are myth, something people take on faith. Yet, here you are, telling a tiny blip of existence about it all," she shook her head in the absurdity of it all. "There is more to this having to kill than just needing minerals and substances that can't be produced here, isn't there," she asked perceptively, leaning forward in some odd mixture of total fascination and self-destructiveness.

"What most mechs get from organics, I have to take from other mechs," Jazz murmured, something giving a hint of surprise that she didn't know. "Only what I take, the spark energy, doesn't leave them enough to survive. So every few vorns I have to kill if I want to keep going." He shivered. "No matter who gets me when I die, it's going to make the modern Christian Hell seem like child's play. I learned last time that oblivion isn't going to be my reward," his tone was unusually dull as he finished his second drink and looked at the empty container for a moment.

Her eyes widened in surprise at the first statement. "Ok, not to leave behind the second thing you said, but I _felt_ your spark take my energy. It was amazing! And you've claimed a socket. I mean ... why share, why claim?"

"You felt what I wanted you to feel," he shrugged as he rolled to his pedes and went to make himself another drink, this time of energon glowing so brightly that its color was barely discernible to the humans. "I claimed Miles because _Prowl_ needs him, and I'm not at all inclined to abstain from spark-play just because protocols freak out if anybody who isn't claimed or kin is around when our sparks are exposed. It also makes me look more normal. Most mechs know I'm an assassin and former Con. Only a few know I'm far worse than any Con."

It struck her at the moment, watching this very charming and deadly mech essentially getting plastered in front of her, that he was telling _her_ things that others in his faction didn't know. That his socket might not even know. She suddenly wasn't so sure she wanted to be the repository of his secrets, considering the fact that her knowledge made him vulnerable, and she was quite certain he wouldn't have any qualms about making someone who knew too much disappear without anyone, even Prime or his bondmate, the wiser.

She desperately drank the rest of her martini, handing the glass to Masomakali to make her another, stat. She was committed, and was not turning back, and damn-it if she was going to let fear, or even the slight hurt that sharing with him had done _nothing_ for him, keep her from learning more.

"Why do you love to create? What is the appeal of being a carrier and creator to you?" she asked, gently steering the conversation away from topics that could, possible, get her killed.

He gave a hum of his engine and sipped the energon before sprinkling a fair amount of some brownish metallic powder into it.

"Lots of guesses, no real clue," he smiled at her, his charm in full force, but little of his humor as he walked back to the couch and flopped down next to her. "Best one involves it being the only thing the light and dark in my spark agree on. The darkness gets a new host, another herald, while the light gains a stronger hold on me and creates a new life. Primus is all about creating life. When it got too hard for most mechs to carry, he created the Allspark to do it for us; so more creators and creations would survive. I doubt he had any idea how his gift would be abused," he grumbled and sipped the brilliant concoction and gave a satisfied sound.

"How was it abused?" she asked, watching him drink with frank curiosity, wondering if she dared ask him to _show_ her directly what it 'tasted' like to him? Would she have the courage to give him direct access to her mind again, knowing what she knew now? The thought made her shiver in delicious fear.

"That kink's going to get you killed one orn," he snickered, a crooked grin on his mouthplates, knowing exactly what was getting her off. "But I like you. Blaster told you about castes and how his kind were treated? What about pre-programmed mechs?"

She raised her eyebrows, boldly moving even closer to him and allowing her drink to relax her into a sense of 'what will be, will be.' She'd interviewed leaders of Al Queda in the mountains of Pakistan. She was used to tempting fate for the story. "Yes, I understand the caste issues, or at least as well as I can at this point. I just didn't know if there were other ways it was abused."

"You know that a pre-programmed has a tenth the life expectancy of any other kind. That they were only created because it was _cheaper_ than paying a competitive wage to an educated mech?" He growled, suddenly _very_ angry, though it wasn't, yet, directed at either human. "That they weren't paid enough to even _die_ like a free mech? They starved to death when their contract was terminated and no one gave a damn."

It said a lot about her that Amelia didn't back up, or even flinch at the mech's sudden anger. Oh, she was very much afraid, but it was the kind of fear that she got off on, if she were honest about the fact. The kind of fear that kept her in journalism.

"Disposable," she said quietly. "And Prowl ... he is one. Blaster said something about that."

"Yes," Jazz nodded, his armor rattling in a mixture of impotent rage, frustration and raw emotional agony before it was suddenly sapped from him. He slumped forward, his elbows on his knees with his drink in both hands, his visor locked on the glowing liquid energy. "When you're effectively immortal, any lover is a fling, no matter how serious you are. His time's so much shorter; he was already half way through his contract when I met him. Only reason he's still around are the treatments Ratchet devised to keep the most important of them functioning. Even with good sockets and the best medical attention, he won't live long compared to those framed as sparklings."

She vaguely wondered by how much organic fatality rates increased around drunk mechs. Her own drinks were doing a number on her, she realized as she found herself moving to have even closer proximity with him, laying a hand on the armor plating his thigh supports, peering up at his visor.

"Suddenly all of those looks you give Miles makes so much sense. He is keeping your lover alive."

"He's keeping my sanity and moral compass alive too," he murmured. "Prowl's everything to me. Doesn't matter that I'll outlive him long enough to find another, again. I'll do anything for him. But I like ... enjoy Miles' company for it's own sake. Just 'cause I don't get anything from organic energy doesn't make it feel any less good or the the sex any less fun. My spark consumes the energy, but can't use it. Empty calories, you might say, except it doesn't even do that much. One of the few things that never has changed about me," he shifted his head to look at her and smiled weakly. "I've always been a hedonist."

"Mmm hmm, no surprise there. Does that come from the Primus part or the Unicron part?" she asked bravely, her words starting to slur.

"Both, I think," he chuckled, his engine revving from all the extra energy coursing through his systems with nothing to do. "I have no doubt Primus is one, and if what I feel when I consume a spark is any indication, so is Unicron. It's an incredible overload when I feed."

'Show me' she wanted to beg, but was too terrified of what she might be about to see and feel through his memories to ask.

He fixed her with a look that was half smirk and half cruel before grabbing her and plopping her in his palm, right against a very warm interface panel. Before she could even process the move, he was there, inside her mind and even more intoxicated than he looked.

~Overcharged,~ he corrected with a mental chuckle. ~Organics get intoxicated. Mechs get overcharged, and I'm not even close to as overcharged as I really want to be yet. But you're intoxicating in a way energon isn't, and I want that more.~

"I'm ok Maso," she managed to gasp, knowing what this must be looking like to him. His overcharged state and desire were hitting her in waves that ripped a moan from her throat.

~Ah sweet baby Jesus, show me, Jazz. I'm scared shitless, but I want to see. Show me,~ she begged for what she couldn't say aloud, not with her much more safety conscious, inherently cautious partner in the room.

The deep rumbling growl came from his vocalizer and his engine revving hard.

~Mine,~ Jazz hissed in all his possessive, hedonistic glory before he opened his memories to her, drawing her in until she lost all sense of herself and _was_ Jazz, Herald of the Unmaker and predator of Cybertronians. A huge, all metal city of spires, geometric and square buildings of metal and crystal stretched out before them. She couldn't help the flash of thought that they were Batman-like in their perch, and heard Jazz laugh in a moment where they weren't quite one.

She felt the source of his existence in her own chest, not far from where her heart would be. It pulsed, hungry in a way no food or energy could sate.

It demanded to be fed directly. Fed with the life of another mech, one of his own kind. It would extinguish without it.

They watched as the long-lost city pulsed with life underneath them. Each spark called to him the way a lover's might, but he was choosy. He would be taking its very essence into his own, and wanted someone worthy of that. It would be with him forever, even longer than those he bonded with.

The thought solidified the scene more, from a conglomeration of thousands of similar memories to a distinct hunt. A tiny life pulsed next to his own, even hungrier than his was. Innocent in the way only a natural born killer could be. Not even in his own body yet and demanding a life be sacrificed to him.

It was something Whiplash's 'mother', his carrier, was happy to oblige.

Then Jazz was moving, streaking across the lower buildings as he homed in on a target, a potent life that pulsed with a known frequency. A lover from vorns long past. A deadly mech with a strong spark rich in energy.

Unsure if it was her desire, or Jazz's, Amelia _wanted_ the other to fight back, to make it a challenge. But even more, in the end, she wanted the other to beg her for mercy, for oblivion, even beg her to do exactly what she had every intention of doing.

**"Miss me?"** she whispered in Jazz's voice directly into the others audio as she landed on the slightly larger mech's back.

**"Wha?"** their target, Kickstart, twisted and slammed backwards, trying to smash Jazz into the wall. **"Are you _insane_?"**

**"Nope,"** she could feel the manic grin cross her features, the quickening of her sparkpulse and the rush of energon through her systems as she keyed up not just for battle, but for a _hunt_. **"I'm hungry, and so's my little one."**

**"Frag you!"** the mech hissed, repeatedly slamming her against the wall, clawed fingers digging into her armor behind him, splashing them both with energon.

**"I'll be doing that too,"** she giggled in Jazz's manic voice, the rush of pain feeling _good_. Not as good as pure, intentional pleasure, but it was nothing she feared. There was nothing to fear. She was the predator here, the keeper of balance in life and death, ensuring Cybertron never had too many mechs.

Still, this was a hunt she wanted to enjoy. It was the first lesson of the nature of their sparks and coding to the baby she carried in her chest.

She drove her claws into Kickback's neck, sliding her slender fingers deep and slicing with instinctive care for what would cause pain and draw energon, but not actually hamper her prey. Then she leapt up and away, disappearing into the shadows to watch as the other mech bolted.

She gave him some time. There was no rush. Let him try to escape, try to formulate a plan, it would make the final rush all the more satisfying.

She took a moment to examine herself. Familiar, but so very different. Instead of a minibot surrounded by much larger frames, she was one of the tallest. Her frame had far less armor on it, and large portions of her protoform were bare of any covering, responding to the environment around her with the kind of sensitivity now associated with sensor panels or horns.

She turned inward, examining other differences and suddenly giggled, splitting her perception from Jazz's for a moment.

~We don't have a glossa, a spike or a valve.~ she said in amused surprise.

~Wheeljack invented the spike and valve after he brought free sockets to Cybertron,~ Jazz explained with a chuckle. ~The glossa is older, but still relatively new from my perspective. There aren't any ranged weapons either and transforming is still generations away. A modern Cybertronian would find this world nearly as alien as Earth.~

~Awesome,~ she giggled, her real body grinding itself against his hot panel shamelessly before being fully pulled back into his memory of tracking their prey, dropping hints that only the doomed mech could sense that they were always just around the corner, behind him, above him, or sometimes tracking him from underneath in the bowels of an ancient city that no other living Cybertronians even remembered.

Giddiness, the intoxicating feeling of being the only one to know something as important as the moment a spark would extinguish, bubbled up at random moments. A random look up and she grasped that nothing was flying.

~Nope,~ Jazz agreed as they darted in to caress their prey's shoulder strut. ~Not for another generation will a spark inhabit a flier. Seekers won't be until generations after that.~

She caught the reflection of their prey in a crystal building, and noted with glee that his optics were nearly white with fear. But the micro-filaments on her protoform picked up other emotions from the mech's field that he could not dampen. Every time she brushed against him, she picked up his arousal, and his disgust with himself for feeling aroused at the prospect of his own demise.

It occurred to her that they were casually herding him toward a less populated part of the city. A place where she could take her time, enjoy the kill. Just because it was absolutely necessary for her survival, for the strength of the little one she carried, didn't mean it had to be perfunctory. Every kill to feed should be special, memorable, to honor the existence and sacrifice that was about to further her own long functioning.

Every designation, every frame, every lifetime was stored in her memories; a final respect to those that would never return to their creator.

~Will he try to report this?~ she asked, her entire soul on fire with curiosity and excitement.

~Only if he gets away,~ Jazz chuckled. ~Comms don't exist yet either.~

~They don't ever return to Primus?~ she asked, a new shiver of fear running through her, only intoxicating her more. She was too caught up in him to even consider anything but complete acceptance.

~There's no spark to return to him,~ he pointed out with dry amusement, memories of similar conversations with many sparklings that had not yet been born at the time of this hunt drifting in an out of her awareness and the thought that he very much thought of her as one of them; just like the new spark nestled in his chest. ~It becomes part of ours, fuels us. Perhaps when we extinguish our meals will go back to him. Or they may be dragged with us to the Unmaker and a full, final oblivion.~

Even as the words came, she realized that it was a truth from before Earth, before Mission City, before he had met Primus and knew better. It was the truth, and the unknown, he'd believed completely for a lifespan so long he was struggling to adapt to the change meeting Primus had created.

Like all of his sparklings who came before, she greeted his teaching with pure acceptance and trust. She belonged to him, so she was safe, protected, nurtured, and he had only her well being in mind. He was what he was, had no more ability to change it than an organic could be born something other than what it was. It might cover itself in technology, replace its flesh with implants, but its soul would always be organic. Jazz would always be Jazz.

That Primus would change him, would take away his most basic function, left him as terrified as those he hunted.

They both forcefully directed their attention back to the hunt, away from that horrifying thought and the entirely too fresh memories of the agony it created. Yes, here, in his own processors, Primus was very much a force of evil, unable to accept that the balance of death was needed for life to continue. Unicron was the merciful one. He gave the gift of a quick end or an incredibly pleasurable one, then oblivion. It was an end she could only hope for with little expectation it would come about.

With a last brutal push she removed the thoughts from her active processors, finally loosing herself once more in the hunt and the anticipation of an overload-induced end for her meal.

~So hungry,~ she moaned in anticipation as they finally came to a quiet warehouse district away from the hub of the city. The sound of her prey's thudding footsteps, beginning to slow from lack of energon, was like the finest music. He could do nothing to dampen the terror-arousal of his field, and she grinned wickedly knowing that she and she alone could induce such contradictions in those she consumed.

**"Come out, come out, pretty one,"** she cooed in Jazz's voice, husky and deep with anticipatory pleasure as she slipped from the shadows in front of the mech ... and it drifted through her awareness that 'mech' and 'femme' didn't exist yet either. This was before organics had introduced that concept to them.

**"Please ... I'm not ready to extinguish. I'll give you anything ... just not my spark,"** the other was reduced to pitiful begging.

**"No one's ever ready when it's their time,"** she cooed with false sympathy, circling her prey with a sultry strut that had more place in a high-end dance club. **"It's nothing personal Kickback; this is my function."** She wanted to lick her lips, but had nothing to do so with. He seamed to get the message anyway. **"You have the honor of feeding the next generation. Not many get that."**

**"The pit take you!"** the silver-gray, protoform-looking creature hissed, launching himself at her in a final desperate effort. She nearly overloaded in anticipation as she sprung, cat-like to meet him, razor sharp claws and a number of writhing cables extended to embrace him.

**"Already has,"** she whispered into his audio as she clicked an uplink cable into place and half paralyzed him. He retained enough control to writhe, arch and thrust, to whimper against her, but not enough to actually fight. **"The pit is where I come from."**

She began to caress him, creating sensations that he simultaneously rejected and pleaded for. The memory rose unbidden of a safari where she had seen a lioness tenderly grooming her almost-dead prey as though it was a lover, child or sibling.

The viral code she had injected had already turned his firewalls into a tattered curtain that she swept aside like silk.

~Enjoy or fight, it will not change your fate. Only the way in which you go,~ she caressed his processors as she slipped in without effort, taking in his memories, his knowledge, even his emotions and desires. ~You will exist forever within me and my clade.~

~Slag you, slag YOU!~ he screamed. She drank in his bitter furry that this was to be his end, his growing resignation that there was _nothing_ he could do to stop her, that she was already injecting code and physical compounds that would allow her to absorb protoflesh and frame after she had taken his spark.

And then there was the rage that he was _aroused_, and wanted her, wanted to feel her deadly spark again, one last time, and live on in her. How dare she make him feel this way. How dare his spark betray him be actually _wanting_ this end.

The slide of chassis and protoform against one another was electric, a charge of pure pleasure that danced and echoed between them, inside them.

**"So good,"** she moaned, shuddering in pleasure as she nuzzled, stroked and nipped him. Intentionally dredging up memories of Kickback's youth when they'd been lovers for a few brief metacycles.

She slyly noted that in the end, he had come to her. He had launched himself into her embrace. He _belonged_ to her. She had complete power over him, to make him scream in agony or overload. All she had to do was command him to open, and he did so, not because of any signal she sent, but because his own spark and frame were betraying his processors.

**"Open,"** she said in her sweetest, most seductive tone, and in an instant he was spitting curses and offering himself to her, his entire frame shaking with terror and desire as his chamber opened for the last time.

**"Shu, love, don't be afraid,"** she murmured to him like he was a sparkling. **"You said you loved me once,"** she lightly traced fine, sharp fingertips along the facets of his spark chamber. **"We bond this night, lovers forever."**

**"Please ... please,"** he begged, arching into her touch, blue sparks of pure energy running up her arms as his first overload tried to take him, but her fine control of his systems allowed her to stop it just at the cusp.

**"Please what?"** she asked, dangling him over the oblivion of pleasure by a single thread.

He would have been gasping if there was an appreciable atmosphere. His entire chassis trembled, shaking in need.

**"Please let me overload,"** he keened, pressing his chest upwards into her touch.

She gave him a beatific grin, and released her control, not only of his overload, but of his entire system and frame. She _knew_ he was hers. She gave his open chamber one last stroke, her clawed finger reaching into his very spark, as though to pull it toward her. Her own chamber opened and her entire frame trembled in anticipation. Her little one was _so_ very hungry, and so was she.

Aside from her bonded and creation, _this_ was the only time she loved. She treasured and loved each and every spark that became her own, part of her very life force. She nearly slammed their sparks together with a keening howl that would haunt the recharge of any who heard it for vorns to come.

Ecstasy, the same kind as when she kindled, tore through them both. Pain bit at their circuits, lacing the pleasure with the pain of change. Her spark turned inside out, as did that of her sparkling. The living, solid blackness at her core reached out, fine strands of inky nothingness that coiled around the pure spark under her, absorbing it to further her existence.

The organic part of her felt as though she were pulling a child to the comfort of her own chest. The spark she was absorbing was _that_ precious to her. But instead, with a final scream of pleasure and rage it _became_ one with her, bonded to her fully rather than the pale shadow of bonds that left the other in his own frame. The little spark next to her own hungrily gorged on what she sent its way, and she hummed in the pure bliss of complete satisfaction.

She rested on top of the empty, graying frame, her cables jabbing into the protoform under her to inject more nanites, altering it to fully integrate with her own. Sections of her armor slid out of the way, revealing protoform intakes specially designed to suck in the half-liquefied protoform of another to add mass to her own and provide raw materials for the sparkling shell she was building in her lower chassis.

It was a different level of satisfaction - a more normal one, but thoroughly enjoyable because she knew what she took in would be used by the very first spark she had ever carried, that she loved with a fierce tenderness she had not even known she possessed. There was more here than she could use, for her own systems or the sparkling's, but she never wasted a kill. She could give the remainder to her aging bonded, near the end of his functioning, and give him a few more vorns.

What was left when she had finished were a few metalloid compounds that even she could not absorb. The planet itself, Primus's own body would absorb what was left. How ironic it was that the very force that Primus rejected that fed the god in the end.

Almost reluctantly Amelia felt herself slip from the memory that was now as much hers as the mech who had experienced it and into a more normal link where she knew herself and she knew Jazz and where the two separated. After a moment to orient herself, she realized that he was watching her, waiting for her to absorb what they'd shared and react now that she was in her right mind.

~I'm sure at some point I'll freak out,~ she admitted, her eyes looking right into his visor, ~But right now ... I just feel so fucking lucky that you let me experience that ... let me feel what it is like to be you. I should be terrified of you ... I am, one a level, but I also love you.~

She climbed up further on his frame, above his maelstrom of a spark. ~If I had a spark, I'd give it to you, and that terrifies me.~

~Why?~ he asked gently, but the emotions behind it were of shock and just a trace of awe. How many had said that, _before_ they were his?

~Because ... because you are you,~ she tried to give words to what she felt on an instinctive level. ~You are like a force of nature ... terrifying and beautiful all at once. You destroy ... and it makes room for the new. Like a fire, or a tsunami or a tornado. I fear you like I fear those things, and love you like I love the earth. There is no such thing as natural evil. There is just nature, and that is how you feel to me, and you need to continue. My energy can't feed you ... so If I had a spark, I'd give it to you.~

A low, rumbling growl echoed through the room as Jazz caught her in both hands, tearing apart the little she was wearing, and brought her down, his spike already sized for her, pressing in easily.

That was secondary to her though, as good as it felt. The raw, hot, soul-consuming _mine_ Jazz was projecting made her tremble. In the background she could feel two other awarenesses, identified absently as Prowl and Miles, and whom Jazz was ignoring in favor of her.

~Yes ... oh God yes, Jazz!~ her mind screamed, and somewhere in her imagination, or perhaps it was real, she was now the prey, and she knew she was marked. She was his. She could fight or enjoy, because no matter what she did at this point, he was taking her as his own.

~Yours,~ her mind moaned and he began to move in her, hard enough that she knew she would have trouble walking later ... if there was a later. Right now she didn't care if this was her last moment on Earth because she was his.

~Mine,~ he rumbled in agreement, the affection in the thought nothing like what he held for his prey, or Miles, or even for his bonded. She was his in a whole new way. She was his confident, a consort of a kind he hadn't had in far too long.

She could feel confusion, but it didn't belong to either of them, so she ignored it. _Nothing_ mattered but him in this perfect moment. She couldn't have been more clear about what she wanted. She threw back her head and clung to his hands, still grasping her, as he moved in her and _moved_ her with his own hands in a primal rhythm, her soft, curvy body welcoming him, squeezing him with each thrust as if she could pull him in and never let him go.

Jazz shuddered, aware of the door to his quarters opening but not caring when he picked up it was just Miles and Whiplash. A low moan escaped his vocalizer as he pushed them both to the peak where pleasure became uncontrolled pain for a moment of intense bliss before they tumbled over. His nanites rushed into her, filling her, changing her even as his socket and second creation watched in various stages of confusion and disbelief.

Miles walked over to Masomakali, who was watching the whole scene with an expression of mixed shock, resignation, and fear. The socket wrapped an arm around the photographer's waist and pulled him close, encouraging the quiet Tanzanian relax into him. If Amelia had been coherent enough to notice, rather than being blissed out on what amounted to the universe's most spectacular trip as her very quantum signature was changed, she would have realized that the ever-discrete Masomakali had just made it clear whom he had been sleeping with since arriving on Diego Garcia.

"Dude," Miles said, shaking his head and grinning like a maniac at the two of them. "Wasn't expecting that."

"Are you upset?" Masomakali asked him quietly.

"You kidding? Of course not. Just surprised. Something in her that he needs, and when Jazz is carrying, he takes what he needs. Not even Ratchet can argue with that."

"From what he said before, he doesn't need the excuse," Masomakali murmured quietly, his eyes darting around to watch the small, matte black Cybertronian cautiously approach the couch while speaking some dialect that not even Miles' socket could - or would - translate.

Jazz responded in the same dialect, his voice rolling in what Miles recognized to be the lazy aftermath of memory sharing and an intense overload.

"You okay?" Miles asked the photographer, pulling him to the human sized couch. "I think he needed to scare someone. It has been building for awhile."

"I was ... concerned for Amelia. If there is a question she shouldn't ask, she will, invariably, ask it. If you say 'don't go there' she will be there in an instant."

"Sounds like everyone who really, truly belongs on this island," Miles smiled gently, one ear and eye on the two mechs. Ever since he'd met Whiplash, the SpecOps TIC had resonated with him in a way he couldn't understand. It wasn't a pleasant sensation either, but a familiarity he couldn't deny and no longer tried to. Now he was just trying to work it out because no one would _tell_ him and he wasn't the type to push. So he watched his mech and his matte finish counterpart interact every chance he got. They were close, intimate. Whiplash gave Jazz leniencies that no one else got, not even others in SpecOps.

Whatever explanation Jazz had given had relaxed Whiplash. Miles had reluctantly gone to Jazz's TIC, at Prowl's direction, when things had started feeling a scary through the bond. Now, things were far more settled, but he could also feel a hunger in Jazz that whatever he'd shared with Amelia had awoken. It was something else that he was trying to work out. He felt his mech's attention turn his direction, and, to his surprise, could feel Amelia stirring through him.

~You know, for someone who doesn't need organic energy, you seem to be starting a collection,~ he teased gently.

~I told you before, I _do_ enjoy the companionship and pleasure,~ Jazz teased back. His mind-voice was still a little on the loopy side, but coherent enough. The hunger was a burning desire just behind the wall of Jazz's self-control, something that was growing stronger.

~Miles?~ a soft voice sounded surprised. With her connected to Jazz by the socket-free organic interface, he could feel her.

~Well, welcome to the family,~ he said gently, with a sense of both confusion and pleasure.

~Wow,~ Amelia breathed in amazement, experimentally reaching out towards him with her mind, just to see what would happen.

It was enough to draw Prowl fully into the four-way link, though for the moment he remained silent. Concerned, unsettled, but silent.

Miles deliberately focused on feeling her through Jazz. There was no doubt that someone else had now entered the small circle of beings that Jazz truly cared about, deeply. Who were, by his definition, kin, even if he'd never admit it aloud. That was enough to make him like her, not that he hadn't already, even if he was confused and not just a little surprised by the development. He sent a deliberate caress of welcome and affection her way. _Anyone_ who could drive his mech to what had obviously been an unexpected, unplanned claim had to be someone special.

He felt Jazz's hunger grow in intensity, and shivered at the raw ferocity and desire of it. He heard Whiplash say something else, and could feel Prowl's resignation and acceptance of whatever it was through the bond.

~We'll be alright. Just go, hon,~ Amelia whispered.

~Not until someone who's kin is here to keep ya both safe,~ was Jazz's response.

~Go where?~ Miles asked, irrational fear suddenly swelling in his gut. Since his capture and the even worse aftermath, he had never been more than half an island away from one of his mechs. Whatever Jazz and Amelia were talking about, he knew it meant that Jazz was leaving Diego Garcia, with Prowl already directing the recovery and rebuild in Burma.

It stung, on a level, that she knew and he didn't, but then again, there were a lot he had never asked about, and that he knew Jazz was waiting for him to initiate asking, to be ready to know. He wasn't a fearless journalist who dug into things. He was much more inclined to simply accept, whether he understood or not.

~Hunting,~ Jazz replied, an entire universe of dark, joyful excitement coming with the word that Miles had never felt before, not even from Skywarp. ~Mirage will be here shortly.~

~Oh ... cool.~ Miles was quiet for a moment, look back and forth between the claim-blissed Amelia and his ... their ... mech. ~So, watcha hunting, dude?~

There was a hesitation, however brief, that Miles caught.

~A mech. I need ... for the sparkling. Energy and parts.~

Miles gave his mech one of his patented 'long hard looks' that said without words that Jazz had broken his brain yet again. Then he broke into his likewise patented ever-so-manly giggles that were a constant symptom of his orgasm-damaged brain. ~Dude, just don't get Skywarp. I know you are pissed at him for taking me, but the dude has major ally potential, 'kay?~

Jazz gave him a look through his mirrored black visor before he nodded. ~All right. I won't target 'Warp. Anyone else you want safe?~

~Well, better not touch his trine, all things considering. And Flitfire, that little white Insecticon, sort of has some sentimental value to me, being my first 'Con and all,~ Miles grinned sheepishly.

Jazz chuckled and shook his head, fingers and cables absently stroking Amelia's voluptuous form with a kind of possessiveness he'd never displayed towards Miles, or even Prowl. In the silence that descended, the sound of the main door sliding open was overly loud, though the steps of the mech who entered were whisper-quiet.

**"Mirage,"** Jazz inclined his head to his SIC.

**"Lord Jazz,"** Mirage murmured respectfully in reply as he took in the room. **"May I watch over your sockets while you hunt?"** He asked politely.

Jazz cracked a grin at the spy and eased Alicia from his spike, cradling her as Mirage walked to the couch to take her from the smaller mech with all the care a precious thing deserved.

A low rumble, and armor clicking made the noble freeze.

"Miles needs a mech he trusts nearby," Jazz shifted to English as his spike retracted into its housing and the interface panel slid shut. "She's coming."

Miles instantly felt Prowl's furious objection through the bond. Still connected to Jazz by millions of filaments in her neck, Amelia stiffened, just as he did was he was shielded and shut out from the argument that crossed an ocean.

Mirage looked stricken, caught between vehement objection and his utter loyalty to his commander. He was saved when the lower ranking but more assertive Whiplash stepped close to Jazz with a silent objection in his armor shifts.

**"Jazz, she should not come,"** Whiplash said firmly. **"She's not ready for conditions on a hunt. She could be injured."**

Jazz growled at him, his engine revving angrily, but the black mech locked optics with him, fearless in the face of what every survival-oriented mech on both sides stayed far away from.

"Dude, I'm not sure that's such a good idea," Miles added. "Does she even want to go?"

"No one is taking me away from you," Amelia added softly, her body trembling in the mixture of desire and fear he aroused in her. "They know better than that. I'll come willingly and gladly, if you want me to, but experiencing something _as_ you is different than seeing it through my own eyes. I'm ... I'm afraid you'd be disappointed in how little I could handle."

Jazz actually rocked on his pedes, his expression unfocused, before his engine gave a last, furious snarl and settled down.

"Stay with Mirage," he instructed, visibly unhappy as he extended his hands for her to crawl over to the elegant noble's. "I'll return soon."

"I know," she said quietly. "Good hunting, Jazz."

Miles eyes went back and forth between then before he got up and walked over to the silver mech, radiating confusion and helpless acceptance of whatever was taking place, leaning hard on his bond with Prowl at the moment. He rested his head against the silver mech's leg. "Love ya, dude. I'll take good care of her."

Jazz nodded, distracted and distressed as he knelt and stroked Miles' hair. "I'll be back soon," he promised before standing and striding from their quarters, Whiplash at his side.

"This is going to be a very bad day for the first Decepticon to cross their pass," Mirage said softly as he set Alicia down. "Masomakali, she will need a change of clothing and whatever cleaning supplies Miles does not have."

Masomakali looked at Mirage for a moment, then stood and crossed his arms, glaring at his partner. "What is going on? Amelia, what just happened?"

"Jazz claimed me," she said simply, giving her partner a weak smile of apology for that fact that the professional opportunity of a lifetime had been thoroughly compromised in a little less than an hour.

"Why?" Her partner asked, thoroughly confused. "Blaster said that you had to remain objective, unconnected, at least by outward appearances. What we are doing here is important."

The Tanzanian's words were calm, even pleasant sounding, but there was no doubt that he was furious.

"When Jazz finds something he really wants, he will take it," Mirage said smoothly. "It is to her benefit that she finds the idea agreeable."

"Is this mech above the law? I thought there were rules here for this," Masomakali began pacing in his distress.

"Mas," Amelia sighed, pulling a blanket around herself that Miles had quietly gotten for her and draped over her shoulders. "It's ok. I want this. You will still be able to do the story."

"What does this even mean?" her partner choked. "Are you moving in here? Do you even have any say in the matter?"

Miles guided both humans back to the couch. Amelia was beginning to shake, emotionally and physically spent from what she had experienced.

"When you get claimed ... it is very hard to be away from your mech, or for him to be away from you," Miles explained softly. "She is changing on a subatomic level. And Jazz would not be able to handle having her be away. It would be _very_ bad."

"Why her? Why Amelia?" Masomakali's eyes moved back and forth between the two organic members of the mech's clade.

"He needs someone who will understand him, know who he is, the parts that he has to hide to be a good Autobot," she tried to explain. "Someone who will see those things and not hate him."

"And Miles isn't that person?"

"I never said that," Amelia snapped.

Miles looked up at Mirage, distressed, not knowing how to answer that question.

The noble sighed and sat down on the mech-sized couch, facing the humans. "Yes, for all intents and purposes, Jazz is above the law, _any_ law. He has been his entire existence. Becoming an Autobot in name did not change that, only how much effort he put towards trying to comply with Prime's wishes. It's more than acceptance of his more violent nature he needs in a confidant ... a **companion-beyond-bonding**. Something in Amelia goes beyond acceptance. She can embrace him, fully embrace what he _is_."

"He shields me from the part that you embraced," Miles said quietly, looking briefly at Amelia, then back down, ashamed, reaching out to Prowl for comfort without even realizing he was doing so. "I've never even asked him about some of it, even though I knew. I was afraid ... I didn't want to find out something that would make me afraid of the person I love."

~You are not alone,~ Prowl told him gently. ~Jazz is fully honest and open with no one, not even himself. Do not be ashamed for not being able to be all things to him. Not even I am able to be that close to him.~

"I didn't get any sense he blamed or resented you for it," Amelia reached out to Miles and hugged him. "Relieved to find someone for this part of him, but I don't think he thinks you should have been able to see this."

Miles sank into the soft, sexy, yet maternal embrace of the person who had suddenly become part of his family without the least preparation on any of their parts.

"What about what you want and need, Amelia?" Masomakali asked quietly.

"I want and need this, Maso. More than a name on some groundbreaking article," she shivered, literally feeling _Jazz_ in her, changing her, making her his with a possessiveness he rarely showed. "I rushed headlong into the forbidden, and got caught by it. It's what I want."

"How can you know that ... after being with someone twice?" he stood up, collecting his camera and bags, holding up his hand when she started to explain.

"Dude, it's Jazz," Miles laughed. "I knew I wanted to be his after about thirty seconds. Go get her stuff, get some fresh air. Things will be ok."

Masomakali nodded curtly, and left.

"Amelia, this puts you in a select circle," Mirage spoke quietly, calmly. "One which I am the only one on the island at this time. I will answer what questions I can, if you wish."

Amelia pulled Miles closer, for her own comfort and unconsciously attempting to ease the sting of Mirage's words. Being someone that Jazz truly showed his darkness to was a dubious honor, at best.

"Has this happened before?" she asked softly, attempted to get a handle at the new role in life that had, quite literally, been thrust into her. "With a socket? Or a mech he wasn't bonded with?"

Mirage nodded. "Whiplash and myself primarily, but never an organic. Prowl isn't subjected to the darkness very often. Jazz prefers to protect Prowl from things he has difficulty accepting. Prowl is very adept at providing a stability and moral compass that Jazz does not have inherent to his code. He does not cope quite so well with what we do."

Amelia swallowed, the _what have I gotten myself into_ written on her features as clearly as her determination to see it through. "I have a really bad habit of falling in love with very dangerous people," she murmured.

Her eyes shifted toward Miles, unsure if certain questions should even be asked in front of her fellow socket. Getting the hint, he hugged her and stood up. "What can I get you to eat?" he asked.

"Anything ... everything. I'm starved," she said.

"Sushi?" he asked. "Have some fresh at Hang 10."

"Yes. And ice cream. I need ice cream."

Miles snickered and headed out.

Alone with a mech she'd never even spoken with before now, Amelia breathed a high sigh of relief, comfortable on a level that defied explanation.

"Whiplash is his creation?" she asked carefully, certain in her soul, but needing to ask.

Mirage cycled his optics, surprise written in the flare of his armor ... and it struck her that Jazz had left her with a _lot_ of information about the mechs closest to him.

"Yes, the only survivor, the first he carried but the second he helped create," the noble answered softly. "The femmes - Silver Shadow and Starjumper - are his descendants, though distant ones."

She nodded, closing her eyes, still uncertain whether she would end up dead or protected because of what she knew. "And you?" she asked, and then bit down on her bottom lip in anxiety.

"An ... adopted creation, of sorts. I adopted him first. As a noble second creation, I need a leader that's kin or bonded. Eventually he liked me well enough to call me kin and mean it." Mirage explained uneasily. "It was some time after that before I found out just what it meant. What he was willing to do for me as his creation, even if he didn't create me. Once you belong to Jazz, not even Prime has authority over you. Not with what matters."

She was silent for a moment, unconsciously wringing and worrying her hands.

"Why me, Mirage? Why an organic? Don't get me wrong ... I wouldn't turn back if I could. But this doesn't make sense."

He considered her for a long moment before venting a sigh. "I do not know, Amelia. I doubt even he knows. Perhaps you are the first that he did not program that could take what he showed. All of us, everyone else who knows this part of him intimately, he either programmed or reprogrammed. There is a certain ... addictive quality to meeting someone who can accept you when you did not shape them."

She pulled the blanket around herself tighter, though it wasn't by any means cold in the underground quarters that had quite suddenly become hers.

"I loved it," she murmured, clearly disturbed. "I ... it was amazing, feeling him like that. More than just feeling him ... being him. He let me feel what it was like to be him, and I couldn't get enough. On a level, he was trying to terrify me, and instead I just ate it up, reveled in the chase, the sick seduction, the...consumption. Sweet Jesus, it felt to good."

She looked up and met the elegant mech's optics. "It shouldn't feel that good. I shouldn't like it so much. God, Mirage, what is _wrong_ with me?"

"Nothing," he answered with a calm certainty. "There is nothing wrong with you. It is a rare spark that can be SpecOps. It's ever rarer to be able to be one's support, to know what he does, what he will do, and embrace him for the force of nature he was created to be. The more who can support him in the hunt without encouraging him to the extremes he's prone to go to without guidance, the better off we all are." He paused. "He did show you a hunt?"

She nodded, unconsciously rubbing her socket-less neck. "He showed me the first he went on while he was carrying Whiplash. He never said it was Whiplash, but I knew, as soon as he walked in through the door."

Mirage vented a small, relieved sound. "As difficult as it is for most sentients to accept, most races do have their predators. Jazz, when sane, is simply a predator for Cybertronians. It's when he's not sane that he's frightening for real. Unfortunately, he spends more time insane than sane, and much of his functioning in the company of mechs who only encouraged his more sadistic tendencies. Jazz is a good mech with a very conflicted spark."

"I know," she said with complete certainty. "He _is_ good ... and evil, just like every living being, but more good than bad, much more good. He also is what he was _made_ to be. Even those at the top of the food chain need something to keep them in balance," she said softly, needing to explain something that Mirage needed no explanation for. "I get that. And when you are the top of the food chain, the predators come either from within, or from the earth itself, at least in the case of my kind."

She pulled the blanket around her and walked over to the mech-sized couch in a silent appeal to be picked up, needing physical contact and reassurance. She found it answered quickly and gently set on Mirage's lap.

"I felt like ... just what you said. He is a force of nature, and I don't believe in natural evil. Things that we might experience as horrible and devastating are just ... nature, keeping things in balance. He's ... he's like that tsunami that hit Indonesia. I could no more hate the tsunami than I could hate the ocean. I can hate the human institutions that make sure that the poor and vulnerable are most at risk when stuff like that hits. As an Autobot, Jazz has turned the force of nature that he is into the service of something more than simply chaos and destruction."

Mirage nodded, a small smile showing how pleased he was at her comprehension. "That, Amelia, is likely why he chose you. You grasp that part of him isn't evil, even if the law says it is. Even when many things he has done are beyond evil. But to explain that to his own kind, for a Cybertronian to hear that a senior officer is terrified of our God, the source of all our sparks ... it is more than most can take." He tipped her chin up with a gentle touch. "You will be good for him. The rest of us, his kin and Prowl, will do what we can to help you."

She knew he meant it, and found herself relaxing into the warmth of someone who, through insane circumstances, had somehow become a sort of brother to her ... or whatever the equivalent was. She was quiet for a full minute, absentmindedly noting the differences in the noble's frame that spoke to his heritage, to the sheer quality of his construction.

She finally gave voice to her deepest question, and fear. "What if he decides he made a mistake? That I wasn't what he thought I was? He let me see _so_ much ... too much. I'm a liability."

"Mmmm, possible though, as Prowl would say, the odds are infinitesimal," Mirage murmured in a comforting tone. "He knows what he's getting in you. He'll even show you exactly how he knows if you ask him. Yes, you are a liability, though far less of one than Miles, or even myself. If it comes to that, it will all be over with before you know it. I'm sure you'll encounter some of the safeguards that are in place. You won't be able to speak or even think of things around a given individual if they should not know."

She breathed a huge sigh of relief, and nearly kissed him for the last of what he said. "Thank. God. So much better than worrying myself to an early death that I might say the wrong thing to the wrong person." She hugged his arm in relieved affection. "I make a good journalist - I love digging for a story. Keeping those stories locked up inside? That is so _not_ my gift."

He chuckled and gave her a bit of a grin. "Jazz is better at making sure secrets are kept than anyone I know. When he gets back, don't hesitate to bring worries to him. If he hasn't already thought of it it won't take him long to work out a fix. That goes with the rest of us too if he isn't around. Whiplash and myself are both quite skilled in nanite programming. Just never go to Prime or Ratchet ... especially Ratchet. Our CMO has enough glitches because of us SpecOps bots."

She giggled, allowing herself to relax deeply, to simply focus and feel what was happening to her body as Jazz's nanites had their merry way with her. "Speaking of which," she mumbled, becoming lost again in what felt like a gentle burning pleasure that just kept going and going, "I was supposed to see Ratchet this afternoon. Something about making sure there were no adverse affects from hooking up while Blaster and Prime kindled. God ... he is going to be so pissed."

Mirage could only groan. "That is the understatement of the age. On the plus side, he won't take it out on you in the least. I won't be so lucky."

"You weren't the one who stuck me on your spike without so much as a by your leave and claimed me. Why would he be angry with you?" She asked, her words starting to slur as she clearly became intoxicated on claiming nanites.

Mirage smiled knowingly at her. "Because I will be a convenient target. I did promise to remain close to you, and that will mean being there when you see Ratchet. Expect a lot of Cybertronian cursing."

* * *

Amelia peaked around the corner of the medbay entrance, motioning with one hand for Mirage to stay back. She enjoyed simply watching the hum of activity for a moment before all hell broke loose. Jolt was assisting Chromia as she calibrated her sensors on what appeared to be a new energy bow, and it reminded her of just how much she'd wanted to interview the femme. Toward the back of the bay, First Aid was continuing repair on one of the dinobots who had not yet been woken from stasis after his unfortunate time with a Decepticon named Shockwave. Snarl was his name, or at least that is what she thought she recalled. Mikaela was cleaning sand out of Sideswipe's armor with a glorified shop vac and the mech looked like he was very close to overload. But where was Ratchet?

"Well come in, I don't bite," the medic's voice rumbled from her left, towards the closed-off rooms.

"Um, hi Ratchet, reporting as ordered," she said, walking in, Mirage following her a bit too obviously. And why did she feel like a sixteen year old who had just gotten caught with a boy in her bed?

The medic's optics flared, his head snapped from her to Mirage, back to her and to Mirage again. From across the room, Mikaela tensed sharply and turned her attention towards the medic and front entrance.

"I'm just her chaperone," the noble lifted his hands in surrender. "Jazz gets the lecture."

Ratchet actually growled, and for a moment, Amelia considered that the medic might be even more frightening than her mech.

"So, does this mean Mikaela gets to punish Jazz?" Sideswipe called out cheekily.

Amelia flinched as Ratchet actually threw a wrench at the frontliner, clearly confident enough in his aim to throw objects nearly as large as his socket at the patient she was working on. It didn't stop her from yelling out "Hey now! None of that, he's mine!"

"When?" Ratchet growled, ignoring both his socket and the cursing frontliner, kneeling down to pick her up and march her to an organic examination table perched on top of a berth. "And, more importantly, why? I thought, when I granted you permission to participate in the kindling, we had discussed that you would remain unconnected with any mechs other than in a casual manner until at least 2 years after publication of the special?"

"When was this morning," Amelia said easily. "Why is really between Jazz and I. Sorry Ratchet. I know it affects my contract here, but I'm a grown up."

"Not when it comes to being claimed like _that_," he just barely kept the roar of outrage under control. "You have _no idea_ what you are getting into with him, and there are _rules_ for a reason!"

Whatever response she would have made was cut off by Mirage shutting the examination room door, sealing out the sound of their voices from the rest of medbay, leaving just the three of them. "Actually, Ratchet," her voice became ice when it was finally safe to speak, "I know exactly what I'm getting into with Jazz. I know where he is now, and I know what he is doing. I know that my energy is not the reason I was claimed."

The CMO cycled his optics in surprise, then narrowed them at her. "Then what, pray tell, _is_ the reason?"

"She has an Ops brain," Mirage found the boldness to answer. "She can give him what I can't."

"He didn't claim a socket," she said softly. "He claimed a consort. Someone he can confide in. You know as well as I do how much he needs that, and that it is better for everyone here if he has it."

She was shocked at the confidence and steel in her voice, and realized that it might, at least part, been Jazz's doing.

Ratchet cycled his optics again, then vented a deep sigh as his frame slumped. "I did not need this today," he muttered with a hand over his face. "Fine. Consort. I'll update your records. Do Miles and Prowl know?"

"They know. I'm not sure how Prowl feels yet, but Miles is supportive. He even brought me ice cream," she grinned. "You've got enough insanity to manage here."

Ratchet grunted an agreement to that. "Where is Jazz now?" he glanced between them.

"Hunting," Mirage answered coolly.

Ratchet groaned again. "What set him off? I _know_ he'd not due for twenty vorns yet."

"Twenty _years_, at most," Mirage corrected. "He's carrying now. It changes the timing."

Ratchet shifted his attention to the noble and scowled. "How do you know something I don't?" He growled.

"I'm clade, his creation," Mirage shrugged. "He shares these things with us."

The medic growled again but focused on Amelia again, expecting her answer.

At that she blushed. "I asked him to show me a hunt..." she turned even redder, remembering that she hadn't exactly asked him. But she had _wanted_ him to show her. And he knew it. "It was pretty vivid memory sharing. I don't think he could have _not_ gone hunting after. That's what I meant, when I said I knew where he was and exactly what he was doing."

Another deep, venting sigh. "Who's he after?"

"Ruckus," Mirage supplied. "He's in Eastern Europe somewhere."

"And has Prime approved the target?" Ratchet asked darkly, his medic coding close to all out revolt at what was taking place.

"Prime has approved a SpecOps mission in Eastern Europe to stop a rogue 'Con who has been terrorizing several cities there," came a rumbling baritone as the door slid open.

Mirage bowed deeply to his Prime, tension in the noble's armor soothing at the appearance of their leader.

"It is better that than have Jazz and Whiplash go rogue themselves," Mirage said evenly.

"True," Prime acknowledged, then focused on Ratchet. "Any surprises other than being claimed by my SIC?"

"I haven't plugged in to scan yet," Ratchet admitted. "To be honest, the way those nanites are broadcasting, I'm not sure I want to, for my own safety."

Amelia unsuccessfully tried to hide her pleasure at that assessment, and wondered when she had become such a smart ass.

Prime vented softly. "Given who claimed her, and who is watching over her, it is unlikely anything is wrong, other than procedure. Mirage, I must ask you to wait outside," he gave a sympathetic look towards the noble, who was now put in a very unenviable position between loyalty to his Prime and to his Lord.

"Of course, Lord Prime," Mirage bowed again, only hiding some of his displeasure and distress at being dismissed, even if he did understand it fully.

Optimus waited for the door to slide closed and lock, then focused fully on Amelia. "Do you understand that what Jazz did goes against all regulations and moral standards the Autobots stand for?"

Amelia sat up straighter, meeting the fathomless blue optics with a look made of steel. "Yes, sir. I understand that he not only technically, but deliberately claimed me without verbal, written, or clear-thinking consent on my part."

The giant nodded, a grim expression on his features as Ratchet tried hard to keep his reaction down to outraged sputtering.

"Despite what you may have assessed or been told, claiming can be undone at any point," Prime deeply resonate voice made her entire body tingle in ways she quickly worked out was both her and Jazz's response to the mech. "Jazz _will_ be punished."

"I've interviewed Miles, and several other sockets on base. I've done my research. I'm well aware that this process is reversible," she gave a dark laugh after the final word, knowing as well as the other two in the room that Jazz was as likely to let her go as he was to stop hunting.

"But consider that your SIC followed the initial consent procedures to the letter with Miles - other than the extras in the nanites -" she quickly added as Ratchet began to object, "You might want to consider that there is a very important reason he was driven to claim someone, spur of the moment, who not only was not a socket, but was technically was supposed to be off limits."

"Nothing is more important than free will and free choice," Prime rumbled, his armor clicking as it puffed out slightly in distress.

"Most of the time, I agree with you, Prime," Amelia spoke carefully, almost gently, as though she were speaking with an equal rather than one of the most powerful beings in the known universe. "But let's get real here for a sec. How many of the organics you all take a fancy to ever actually say no? Especially with us humans, whom your own scientists believe were shaped by the Allspark to be compatible and resonate with you? The Allspark never gave us a choice in that. The only way it could ever, truly be a free will and free choice for us is if we made the choice before we'd ever shared, or even met you. You'd have to ... send us a letter or something, because once we are here, once we've shared? It is all over, and you know it. The choice is made. This whole free choice and consent thing may make you feel good about your values. Our bodies have already said yes and will do whatever it takes to bring our minds along on the ride. The organics that you are drawn to ... that you pursue, they don't stand a chance. Do you really think, once these little animal bodies have experienced something as mind blowing as sharing, there is any free will and choice left in the matter?"

::I'd blame Jazz for that, but even I know it's true ... and it's very much _her_,:: Ratchet grumbled unhappily over a tight-band comm.

It only served to make Prime more disturbed. His social subroutines _knew_ it to be true, but that only made his processors all the more determined to enforce the laws he'd put into place to try and placate his core code deep need to ensure the rights of organics and view all sentient life as equal in value.

"Look, Jazz didn't do _anything_ I would say no to. You have finally gotten things straightened out with him after the whole Miles fiasco. And yes, he showed me that," she sighed, then stood up and laid her tiny hand against Prime's chest where he knelt by the medberth.

"Process this for a second - your SIC, who doesn't trust _anyone_ he hasn't programmed or reprogrammed himself, was well on his way to getting himself completely overcharged, and through a series of very pushy questions on my part, discovered that there is someone on this base whom he hasn't programmed, an organic, of all things, that he doesn't have to hide any of himself from. I don't know why I'm able to totally accept something in him that he even has to protect his bonded and his socket from, but letting him have that most basic and deep need satisfied is only going to be good for Jazz and everyone around him. Cut the mech some fucking slack. Your own god did things to him that he can't even begin to process right now, he came back to emotional chaos, nearly lost the first socket he truly cares for, and now he's carrying. He got the order wrong. He should have asked first. But you are deluding yourself if you think I would have said no, any more than Mikaela, Sam, Miles, or Ma-le would've."

"Mikaela claimed me," Ratchet grumbled, his intense affection and attachment to the young woman infusing his voice.

Deep blue optics closed as processors were forced to accept the truth he knew.

"I do not like this," he gave the only disapproval he could. "He is too above the law already. It is bad enough with his own kind, but with a race we are still trying to make peace with ... this is as bad as it gets with trying to explain sockets, that we value them so much, only to have the very individual sent to record and report to the world raped and claimed without consent. Even if you _would_ have agreed, you _didn't_."

Amelia couldn't help but to feel compassion for the mech, could see how much what had happened pained him. She patted him on the chest and leaned into the warmth of his energy signature.

"Let's make one thing clear. It is only rape if I say it is," she said softly. "I never said no. I never wanted to say no. I know this sucks - it is the last thing you wanted to happen. It is so clear to me how important it is to you that we are free in this, that we are, as much as we can be, equals, at least in terms of free will. So trust me. I'm making the choice now. If you go and punish Jazz or make a big thing out of this, you are, in essence, taking away my choice. As to the rest, I can still write a damn fine article. We don't have to put one of those things in my neck, ever if that is what it takes. Or, we can say I became ill, had to have emergency surgery, whatever, and get someone else assigned to work with Maso. I can even suggest a few who would not find this whole situation nearly as tempting as I do. As good as I am, Maso is the one who is really going to be your ambassador, here. The images are worth far more the words."

The murmur of his systems was somehow saying 'thank you' without words; another knowledge gift from Jazz.

"It would still be a positive, accurate article?" Prime asked quietly, leaning fractionally into her warmth, her energy, and the nanite EM field that found him more acceptable that most.

"Yes, and I'll still be working on it from behind the scenes," she smiled and caressed his chest. "You know as well as I do that no human off this base is every going to know that I was compromised."

**"Prime,"** Ratchet reached a hand out and gently pulled his leader away from her. "You're getting revved up. Not good with her. Not with the state her nanites are in. These aren't Jazz's usual."

"Are you saying that I'm some sort of walking virus right now?" she asked, amused and exasperated at once. "Because he and I _will_ need to have a conversation about that. I'm not spending my lifetime isolated from everyone around me."

"No, it won't be like that," Ratchet assured her quickly. "As your interviews and the technical data I gave you should have indicated, there is a period of a couple weeks to months where there is an intense drive to reaffirm the claim. Even mellow or logical mechs like Bluestreak or Prowl typically become aggressively possessive in this period. With a mech like Jazz and a consort-claim, I can't stress how dangerous it is to give any impression of intruding on that claim until it settles and his spark is sure you're his."

She nodded her understanding. "Got it. Probably why I feel like I'm crawling out of my skin here. I need for him to get back, or at least to be back around Miles and Mirage. They clearly are registering as safe to whatever is running around my body right now."

Prime nodded his understanding. "As your wish, I will not punish Jazz to more than an administrative, off the books slap on the wrist. He'll have to file all the forms, signed and notarized by Ratchet and myself, and we'll look the other way when he dates them to five years from now. That should be long enough for any sign of impropriety in your joining us to fade. We will work with you to allow regular contact with Jazz during that time, though it will be unofficial and invisible to most. Is that acceptable to you?"

"You could always have _me_ do the punishing. I think there is some precedent for that on base, isn't there," she blinked innocently at Ratchet before becoming more serious. "I'm not sure having me away, on assignment, or occasional visits will be acceptable to Jazz. He _almost_ insisted on taking me with him to hunt. Whiplash and I had to do some fast talking to make that not happen."

"I will deal with that, _after_ the claiming-intensity calms down," Prime said firmly. "He is very skilled at understanding the why of things, even when he doesn't like it. By the time you are scheduled to leave we will have it sorted out. You and Jazz will both be a large part of that planning," he promised to calm both her and the nanites down.

"I'm not going to want to leave," she murmured. "But I know we'll figure it out. Thank you ... for understanding," she almost moved back in for a hug, but then thought better of it, considering the state that Jazz's claiming nanites were in.

Prime inclined his head. "When Jazz returns, ask him to share the memory of our last merge. I believe it will help you understand my ... tolerance ... of Jazz's behavior." Silently, he commed the door to open, admitting a very agitated Mirage who swept in and scooped Amelia up.

Both mechs watching quietly ignored how the noble checked her for injuries and distress before settling his armor and systems.

"Are we done?" Mirage asked formally.

"Yes," Prime nodded to the noble. "You both may return to Jazz and Prowl's quarters, or wherever you wish. Other than an emergency, you are assigned to accompany her until Jazz returns from his mission."

Before they could leave, Prime stood. "And Amelia, I am here if _you_ need a confidant."

"Thank you," she said softly, knowing that, no matter how much she might enjoy taking him up on that, for Jazz's sake, even with as much as he loved Prime, her confidant would need to be someone he recognized as kin and clade. She was part of a distinct circle now, for better or worse. 


	78. Outside Eyes 5 A Different Approach

**Fandom**: Transformers Bayverse  
**Author**: getekat and femme4jack on LJ  
**Pairing**: Jazz/Prowl/Miles Lancaster, Miles Lancaster/Masomakali Mwakwanjala, Jazz/Amelia Strongheart, Prowl/Amelia Strongheart, Mirage/Hound/Alicia Rodriguez  
**Rating**: NC-17 for mech/female & mech/male  
**Codes**: Slash, Xeno (Transformer/Human), Het, Sticky, Supernatural, Mind-fuckery  
**Summary**: Prowl is called in from Burma so the rest of the command staff can get some answers, only for once, Prowl really doesn't have any.  
**Disclaimer**: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page (anhrefn-hyfryd .livejournal .com/22919 .html ). We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.  
**Notes**: klik = 1 minute, breem = 8.3 minutes; joor = 1.2 hours; orn = day/32 joor; metacycle = 6 (5.9285) years; vorn = 83 years/14 metacycle  
Written in the Dathanna de Gray fanverse (community .livejournal .com/ tf_socket_fics)  
Prowl's Enforcer form is a mix of canon Bayverse /Artwork/CharRefs/TFs/Prowl+ and War Within .us/tf2008/toypix/warwithin_ ... yes that's a hover car with winglets.  
**"text"** translated Cybertronian.  
"text" organic languages  
~text~ bond/hardline talk  
::text:: comm chatter  
Spanish translations: ay mierda = oh shit; lo siento = I'm sorry; abuela (or abuelita) = grandmother (affectionate); mijo or mija = my son, my daughter (affectionate, doesn't need blood relationship, sort of like calling someone sonny), bruja = witch, curandera = medicine woman, shaman, healer or herbalist

* * *

****

Dathana de Gray 086: A Different Approach

* * *

**"Have you learned about Jazz and Ms. Strongheart?"** Skyfire asked quietly as he began the descent to Diego Garcia with Prowl in his cargo hold.

**"Yes, both from Jazz and others,"** Prowl responded in a tone which, for him, was tense and strained.

**"Has he finished his mission to Eastern Europe? It is difficult to be away from a socket so early in a claim,"** Skyfire continued softly as they landed.

**"He is ... almost finished,"** Prowl said stiffly, his sensor wings giving a faint tremor against Skyfire's cabin wall. **"Assuming he does not find more activity to deal with."**

**"Prowl,"** the gentle giant said as he opened the door to his hold. **"If _you_ ever need a confidant, I am safe, and I am always here."**

The mech paused and allowed his hand to drift along the wall. **"Thank you, Skyfire."**

He knew at a glance as he rolled towards the command center that the news had not spread far. A few humans were surprised to see him, but it wasn't unusual enough to raise suspicions. Jazz's absence was more noticeable, or would have been if he hadn't been spending so much free time in Burma.

A solitary human figure was racing his direction on a hover board, also not a surprising or unexpected sight. Miles had been holding on to his own calm by a thread, and Prowl could feel that the young man was close to losing it.

He scooped his socket up, subspacing the board all in a single motion. Though he continued to walk towards the command center and his meeting with Prime, most of his attention was on the human.

~I am sorry you have been under so much strain,~ Prowl apologized honestly. ~You have already suffered more distress than most our our sockets would in a vorn.~

~I'm cool, dude. Just glad you are back,~ Miles shamelessly snuggled in. ~You ok?~

~Yes,~ Prowl responded, though it was only barely the truth. ~I can only hope that this is not as bad as it sounds. Jazz ... has not been quite himself since he came back.~

~Dying does that, I hear,~ Miles said in his relaxed, accepting manner, not bothering to hide how stressed he'd been, but also not dwelling on it. ~Wish it had changed Sam a bit more. He is still such a spaz.~

~Prime happens to like him,~ Prowl chuckled privately, his exterior showing nothing of his amusement. ~Though you are correct from the examples I have data on. Prime has a new gift and Jazz ... his spark is far less dark, less hate filled, but he has also lost touch with the balance he once knew.~

~Which is hard on you, dude,~ Miles said softly, putting a mountain of affection and at least an attempt at understanding in his signature term of endearment as they entered the command center.

~Yes,~ Prowl admitted with a brush of thanks and affection. ~Being his balance was always difficult, I knew it would always be difficult before we bonded. I have always relied on his knowledge of himself to predict what he needed. I have not done well since his revival.~

~We'll figure it out together,~ Miles replied with his unfettered confidence that all would be well as they entered Prime's office where Mirage, Blaster and Lennox had already gathered.

**"Prime,"** Prowl inclined his head respectfully to his leader, knowing that this was not a friendly meeting. The expressions on those gathered would have warned him if he hadn't already known. "How may we be of assistance?"

**"Prowl**, Miles," Prime nodded somberly back to them. "Please have a seat," he gestured to the chair designed for his TIC's frame. "You are both aware of why I called this meeting?"

"My bonded has become ever more erratic, unstable and aggressive since his revival," Prowl stated evenly. Though only Miles could feel the way it made his spark constrict, every mech in the room knew how hard it was on him to be unable to provide what Jazz needed. "Culminating in the non-consensual claiming of Amelia Strongheart two days ago."

"I thought you and Amelia had come to an understanding about that," Miles said softly, his distress for his mechs rising fast in the presence of Prime, whom he still had a difficult time trusting emotionally even if he understood on an intellectual level that the giant mech only had his best interests at spark. "Isn't it her decision to consider this non-consensual or not?"

"Legally, yes," Prime admitted. "Her choice, like yours, limits the direct repercussions to off the record verbal disapproval of his method. It is not any specific action that is the reason for this meeting," he vented a long, low sigh. "They are merely the sharpest points in a disturbing trend that needs to be brought to a stop before he does something that cannot be overlooked or accepted after the fact."

"He's carrying now, Prime. That can only make it worse," Blaster said, knowing the turmoil his own systems were in, and he didn't have near the changes or protocol issues to deal with.

"That makes it all the more important to _understand_ what happened to him and help mitigate it before it gets much worse," Prime fixed the carrier of his first creation with a look that mixed understanding with distress. "At this rate, he will not be an Autobot before he delivers, by his own choice. I will not accept that outcome."

~Has he _really_ been that erratic? I thought we decided the whole nanite business was totally normal for him. Yes, _this_ was very odd, but it is possible that _she_ will settle him down. I think what he needs is and space away from the main base.~ Miles vented silently to his mech.

~I have little doubt time will work, we do not have a hundred vorns or more to allow him 'space',~ Prowl explained, pained at the truth of it. ~We can not even spare him the vorn until the sparkling comes out. I do not know how to help him. None of us do.~

"Normally a situation like this would be handled by merging with Prime. Even before he could help heal sparks he could gain incredible insight into mechs and their needs," Ratchet addressed the distraught human. "We don't dare merge while he's carrying. He's not even sure what would happen, but he knows his protocols don't want him to."

"But you _did_ merge with him, sir, before" Miles objected to Prime. "I know you hate this, but what if Amelia is exactly what he needs to keep him stable until the sparkling comes?"

"Then we need to know what _she_ needs to remain mentally healthy," Prime said firmly. "Except for Whiplash, we are those who know him best. We want the best for him. We are also basically out of ideas on how."

"I can tell you one thing that needs to happen," Lennox spoke up, looking supremely uncomfortable as he shifted in his chair on Prime's desk. "You need to make sure Ironhide specifically and base at large do not find out this was a non-consensual claim. You probably should not even have me at this meeting. He already can tell I'm hiding something from him that has me upset. I don't care what story you need to spin, this one cannot get out the way the incident with Miles did."

The low rumble snapped everyone's attention to Prowl; it was tremendously unusual for the quiet mech to be that vocal without a much more direct threat.

"Don't you _dare_," Ratchet was halfway to standing.

Prime moved faster. He caught his TIC by the shoulders and locked optics with him until sensor wings and bright gold optics both dropped in submission. At least on the outside.

Inside, Prowl was in a state of raw rebellion and Miles felt every burning flare and icy moment of it.

The Praxian looked up, meeting Prime's demanding gaze with more defiance than he'd shown ... ever. "Ironhide must not find out. You know that means Major Lennox must _forget_."

"He's right," Will said with a shrug. "Nominally, I am responsible for all the humans on base, not just the military, and I appreciate you keeping me informed, but this is a recipe for disaster, and frankly, you should know better by now, Prime. Make me forget, send me away with some memory I _can_ share with my mech without setting us all back months or worse. Don't put Chormia and my family through another one of these episodes. I don't like the situation at all, but she is not a victim in this, and it is an insult to her to treat her like one. Jazz has been looking for someone to open up to since he came back. He started to with me, even with Sarah, and if it wouldn't have caused World War III around here, we'd gladly have been confidants for him because we both understand BlackOps. Just...have someone...not related in any way to Ironhide, keep tabs on her mental health. I know some of the of stuff _I_ would dump on a confidant, stuff I _can't_ ever tell Sarah, and I wouldn't wish that on anyone."

"I don't like the idea of tampering with your mind, Will, but in this case, I've got to agree with you," Blaster said, moving closer to Prime and brushing against him with a soothing frequency. "Don't let this blow up like it did last time, and I think Jazz is likely to be fine."

"You need to set some sort of limits on what Maso can share, too," Miles spoke up, his voice trembling from the latent emotions he was being subject to. "Dude's not the type to talk. But any mech who suspected that something more had happened than what is being said could easily grab him for a look in his memories."

It was Mirage's turn to shift uncomfortably.

"It's been done," the noble spoke quietly.

Prime looked at him in exasperation.

"Better that I did it than Whiplash," Mirage countered the look without contesting the look. "I know my fellow Ops. He would not have been kind." He shifted focus to Will and extended a cable. "If you would plug in, I will deal with your memories and a cover story for Ironhide."

Will gave both Ratchet and Prime a hard look when both made moves to object as he took the cable. Before he plugged in, he stated out loud for the record, "I give my consent for Mirage to alter my memories of this meeting and replace them with a cover story about the purpose of said meeting, and with the information that Jazz's claim of Amelia Strongheart was consensual and approved."

From Will's perceptive, he barely felt anything. A subtle presence, far lighter than Ironhide ever was, the impression of great care and a naturally delicate touch, and when he blinked the next time he was no longer connected to anyone ... not that he'd expected to be.

"Right, so is that everything?" the human commander looked at his fellow officers.

"Yes, Major," Prime inclined his head. "Thank you for your time."

Miles watched with fascination as Will left the room, seemingly not even aware that the other human was present.

Without a pause Mirage offered a data cable to Prime as soon as the door closed behind Lennox. "So everyone knows what he believes was said here," he explained.

"Ok...I know you guys can do that...but that just sort of creeps me out," the younger human murmured.

"If it is any comfort, we can do the same to each other," Prowl murmured, his focus shifting to comforting his socket as something he could actually _do_.

"Is there anything else we need to discuss," Miles suddenly asked, turning toward the other mechs in the room and sounding far older than his 20 years.

"Nothing that can not wait until morning," Prime said as he picked up on Miles' intentions. "We can discuss who should keep an eye on Amelia later."

Miles felt Prowl about to object, his nature and programming to see to duty before himself making itself known with a wave of discomfort, but it was quickly squelched.

"That one is easy, though," Miles said boldly, wanting his mech able to let go as fully as he could. "Have Maso, Corazon, and me watch after her, with whatever mechs you think are appropriate for back up, though Prowl should be one of them. Corazon will definitely be able to tell if something is going on with her that shouldn't be."

"I will take your suggestion as volunteering," Prime gave the human a small smile. "I know Prowl will, asked to or not. I will speak with Masomakali and Corazon."

Prowl nodded his agreement.

"I should be another mech involved," Ratchet added with a huff. "If this goes bad, it'll be in my medbay where it gets put to rights. He knows I'm not exactly afraid of him either, the crazy fragger."

"Well, you are the only dude who frightens everyone more than he does," Miles teased as he snuggled into his confused, hurting mech's chestplates.

~Let's go home, please?~ Miles suggested silently. ~Make each other feel better?~

~I ... would like that,~ Prowl murmured with a brush of affection.

"Dismissed, Prowl. Take care of your socket," Prime said with a gentle smile before the mech could ask to be dismissed.

"Yes, Sir," Prowl inclined his head and sensor wings as he stood and made a quick, graceful exit.

* * *

Their quarters were empty when they arrived. Mirage had kept Amelia with himself to appease Jazz's claiming nanites and wishes while he was away.

Prowl also knew that nothing was likely to keep her from seeking him out once she was aware he was back. He silently commed Mirage asking him to have her wait until he had attended to Miles and received an immediate affirmative reply.

"I have missed you while I have been in Burma," Prowl said softly, walking to the berth room where he set Miles down before sitting next to him.

Miles gave him a crooked smile and climbed right onto his lap, letting his legs wrap around the relatively narrow waist as far as they could go, his fingers tracing the red and yellow highlights on the black and white chassis in clear affection and desire. "Missed you, too, dude, so damn much. Only a couple of days, and it's like I'm still in the honeymoon phase."

"You are, we are," Prowl's intakes hitched with a deep rumble of his powerful pursuit engine revving. The connector cable snaked out from his wrist, teasing Miles' socket before plugging in with a sense of relief for them both. ~I'm afraid what Jazz needs will be more than even the three of us can give him.~

Miles got on his knees and tenderly kissed his mech's chestplates above his spark. ~When things were batshit with Mom, Sam's mom told me that I had to keep myself as whole as I could. That was the best way to help her. We can help each other with that, Prowl. I know it's hard to feel whole with him such a mess. But you can keep merging with Prime...help your own spark, and I'm here for you too. We can take care of each other, and be whole for him.~

~Yes,~ Prowl murmured, stroking Miles' back, his legs, arms, his chest, with fingers and cables. While he wasn't intent on sharing or pleasure, he didn't object either. He wanted the comfort this young socket could give him in any form it came. ~For Jazz, for the future. I meant it when I told him I would leave the Autobots before I allowed us separated again. I do not wish to.~

Miles gave a hum of understanding. Prowl, in so many ways, _was_ the Autobots, the embodiment of what it meant to be one. ~Do you believe Primus sent him back for a reason?~ Miles asked even as he unbuttoned his Hawaiian style shirt and slipped out of his shorts to press his full body into the tactician's heat, more out of creature comfort than any strong eroticism. The fingers and cables stroking his bare skin felt so good, whether it was in comfort or passion.

It was one thing that had come to surprise him about Prowl; the mech was even more tactile than Jazz, but he was _very_ selective about who he allowed to touch.

~I must,~ he murmured, uneasy that he was not more certain. ~If this was a different time, if this was still Cybertron, we would have taken a leave of absence for a couple hundred vorns, spent it in seclusion where all there was to worry about was learning his spark once more. Even with the war, we would have managed some time. Here, now, we do not have the luxury of time, even if we have great luxury in energon and sockets.~

~I'm gonna hope that time's coming for you sooner rather than later, and for getting to know that new little spark. Am happy to give my all to the cause of keeping your spark strong for whatever has to be done in the here and now. There's too much to hope for right now, dude. Peace and a new creation being just two of those things.~

Miles' eternal optimism was as warm as sunshine across their bond and it drew a rare, honest smile to Prowl's features and far less rare but no less precious spark-felt thanks.

~Now...what would make you feel best right now?~ the young man asked, basking in the warmth of his mech's affection for him.

There was a lingering pause, one in which Miles was granted a look at what flashed through Prowl's processor. Ideas, taken from Miles and himself, considered and discarded until one kept flitting back. The thought was incomplete but more than enough for Miles to know exactly what Prowl wanted, and where it had come from.

Miles warmly embraced the plan, his heart skipping a beat in excitement. ~I'd love to detail you, dude. Though I'm not sure how I'd look in Alicia's little enforcer uniform while I do it. Do you know where Jazz keeps the good stuff?~

Prowl could only chuckle at the mental image of Miles in the skimpy, female-designed costume. ~I do,~ his engine purred and revved a little faster at the prospects as the desire solidified in his processors and was accepted. Without a sound he stood and focused inward, leaving the socket cable in place so Miles could experience what it was like to change one's armor in such a significant manner.

It was a simple thing to call up his original specs, even after so long. They really were quite similar to his Autobot ones. Lighter armor, lighter built-in weapons, more close-quarters non-lethal options, but not so dissimilar that his fellow Autobots were likely to notice he was in his Enforcer frame and not that of the TIC. At least not any who'd care would notice. Ratchet would, Jazz would, Sunstreaker and Drift probably would, though all for very different reasons.

Even as he contemplated how little his chassis and specs had changed and showed them to Miles, his nanites went into massive overdrive to reassemble his exoskeleton, armor and even the circuits outside his protoform to comply with the design he had given them. It all took less than three seconds, but inside Prowl's processors and Miles brain it was a very long, disconcerting, disorienting and slightly painful moment.

~Dude, I so want to be able to do that,~ Miles said with a cheeky grin, taking in the small changes in appearance. His body doing nothing to hide how attractive he found the mech, whatever form he was in. ~When I was a kid I used to fantasize about being a shape shifter. If I was a mech, I'd totally get myself into trouble picking new alts every couple of days.~

"I am quite sure you would," Prowl smiled, his amusement flowing freely across their bond and the socket connection before Prowl disconnected so he could transform into something that was most definitely _not_ of Earth. Rounded in form like a hovercraft, but all metal like a car, and with winglets on the back. It was still all black and white. "Though likely more from Ratchet than anyone else. Changing frequently can strain your spark and does use a noticeable amount of energy."

"WOW," Miles said in a low voice, whistling as he ran his hands freely over the hovercraft winglets and up over the smooth, sleek form. "You look amazing! Come on, handsome," he started to head toward their private washracks, when a quick emotion ran through their bond that made him pause, and then break out into a huge grin.

"Cool!" he said, his heart swelling in warmth and affection as it became clear what Prowl really wanted. As a preprogrammed mech, being rewarded by a superior for the day with detailing, good energon, and a socket would have been beyond Prowl's wildest aspirations. Miles was fulfilling a spark-deep need, going back to his days as a preprogrammed, adult sparked enforcer who did not even own his own frame. It was different from the desire to be publicly overloaded that was so central to Mirage's Towerling code. This wasn't sexual, though Miles was going to make sure his mech overloaded several times. It was about being someone who had been totally unvalued in his own society, having his value and competence rewarded publicly.

He quickly headed into their own washracks to collect the needed supplies, including containers of the high end soap and polish that had not been made since before the war. Then he jogged back into his human-sized room to quickly put on a pair of cutoffs, a tank top and some flipflops.

When he came back to their living room, Prowl had the air of someone waiting with far less calm patience than he normally possessed. Miles could have sworn he saw him bounce a few times as the door to the sleek hovercraft slid open for him and he got in.

"So...I know I don't exactly look like the prized noble pet the Lord of Praxus is sending you for the day to detail and charge you up for your outstanding service, but I hope I'll do," he said with a grin, warmly checking out the very different, alien interior with his hands. The material was soft, but clearly metal, more like the strange softness of protoform rather than some pseudo leather that had been Prowl's interior previously.

"It is more than acceptable," Prowl assured him, his tone matching his excited thoughts and adoration flowing with the intense anticipation over their bond as they left their quarters. Every mech and human they passed did a double-take on some level. Several of the mechs changed direction to follow, curious at their TIC's very Cybertronian appearance.

Miles couldn't help but have a flash of something that had never existed; a youngling Prowl excited over a gift. His mech _felt_ like a kid at Christmas.

Prowl in his sleek, Cybertronian alt, made his way to the open washracks on the topside of base, between Hang 10 and the old airstrip. Miles climbed out with another caress that was far more affectionate that erotic. If he were to be honest, he was feeling more than a little emotional about how little Prowl ever received, and thrilled to the point of wibbling that his mech would _ask_ him for something so special.

~I was not that deprived relative to the mechs I patrolled,~ Prowl brushed against his mind gently. ~Relative to now, it was repressive, with only the elite enjoyed the kind of luxuries soldiers have now.~

~Like knowing where your next charge is coming from,~ Miles said softly, undeterred from just how happy it made him that Prowl had asked for this, even if it hadn't been directly.

~Yes, and for many when their next energon would be.~ Prowl murmured, his engine purring in anticipation.

The human turned on the water to cool, but not cold. Just the right temperature to feel refreshing in the hot tropical sun. Taking a hand-held sprayer, he first misted Prowl's entire frame before turning the pressure up to take the first layer of dust and dirt off. Not that there ever was much. Prowl was immaculate, but that wouldn't stop Miles from being thorough.

He'd always loved washing cars, ever since he'd been old enough to hold a sprayer. It had been good training.

The flow of pleasure that was only partially from the physical attention came freely and bright across the socket bond, and Miles could feel, distantly, how it was making Jazz feel better too. A relaxed, happy Prowl was good for everyone.

He watched in utter fascination as this vehicle form seemed to open up for him. Not just the armor loosening, but the very frame extending outwards to allow the cool water inside.

~On Cybertron, this form was designed for use more than concealment,~ Prowl's mind-voice purred with lazy contentment, enjoying the flow of water and the attention it implied. ~There was no need to restrict the movement of parts other than for stability at speed.~

~So...does it feel more relaxed than your current alt? Seems much less confining,~ the blond asked as he began to fill a bucket with water and Jazz's high end alien cleanser.

Speaking of Jazz ... ~just how fast will he jump you in this mode?~

Prowl's amusement bubbled up, the sense of a much younger, less war-weary and command-burdened mech. ~About as fast as it takes to ensure you aren't between him and myself.~

~Every mech on base is gonna wish they could use this soap just so they can smell as good as you, even if they can't look as good,~ Miles said with a bright smile as he dipped his sponge in the bucket and began his "mech massage" starting with Prowl's front end, even though his aft was the most tempting. He wanted to save those winglets for the end. The aroma of the cleanser might not have been particularly pleasant to him before he had been claimed, but the changes inside him included changing his senses. He knew without asking that it had an aphrodisiac quality to it. _Probably should name it Mech Spice,_ he thought with a giggle, imaging Prowl doing the commercial. _Look at me, now look at your mech, now back at me..._

Yes, Miles was very much changed, and he loved every moment of it, no matter the cost. The sound of their language was musical to him now, when once it had been grating. The keens and other noises that come with pleasure would have once been like nails on a chalkboard. Now it was the sound he looked forward to the most.

Prowl relaxed into his socket's attention, his metal body warm and somehow pliant under Miles's touch. It was the bond that kept most of the young man's attentions though. It was absolutely _alive_ with pleasure, a soft humming that turned into a tune of some kind and the wordless, giddy pleasure of a child being given the best gift ever. As good as it felt, as sensual as that pleasure was, Prowl's processors were a million miles from interfacing.

He felt too much bliss to be focused on such things.

The feelings were strangely familiar, hearkening back to Miles's own earliest memories of the creature comfort of his snuggling with his mom. A small part of the human's mind wondered if adult pre-programmed mechs yearned for the kind of care one would hope a sparkling would receive - being the absolute center of their creator's attention, and what it would be like for Prowl to give that kind of care to the sparkling his bonded was carrying.

~Yes,~ Prowl sighed in contented pleasure against his awareness. ~It is very much a desire to be cared for, doted on, to be that _important_ to someone. We may not have had any examples among ourselves in my cadre, but Cybertronian culture was full of them, just as your own is. For my caste, it's the idea that, even if just for a few joor, we don't have to put _duty_ first,~ he moaned unabashedly out loud. ~To be ... free. Just for a little while.~

Miles grinned and kissed Prowl's plating in affection before he continued, making sure to give every square inch of his mech all the tender care he deserved. His heart was full, practically bursting with happiness that Prowl would let himself be taken care of this way, and that he was trusted enough to be the one to do so. Not for the first time, despite all of the stress and challenges, he was overwhelmed at just how _good_ his life was, full of a deeper sense of love and mutual respect than he'd ever imagined himself having.

It made it even lovelier to feel that his emotions, and not simply his arousal, were so eagerly accepted by the spark he was privileged to share with.

* * *

The scent of Jazz's special cleanser, which was likely doomed to be forever called Mech Spice, at least while humans remained the primary socket symbiots for the Cybertronians, attracted nearly as many observers as Prowl's Cybertronian alt form. The TIC was behaving in such an uncharacteristic manner that comms were buzzing all over base.

Mirage, Hound, Alicia, Corazon and Amelia were five of those who were sitting outside of Hang 10 with drinks or energon cubes, watching Miles tenderly detail every inch of Prowl's alt.

The young man had finally made his way to the tactician's hovercar winglets, and it was clear that Prowl would be overloading soon.

When Alicia had offered to give Hound the same special treatment, he had reluctantly refused.

"Let Prowl be the center of attention for once. He never gets to be," the scout said quietly with a very fond smile in his faceplates. It was a look echoed on many faces who had gathered. Mechs were beyond pleased to see their hard working TIC getting some special pampering.

"It's adorable, but I get the feeling I'm missing like 90% of what's going on," Amelia commented to no one in particular from her spot on Mirage's lap.

"You are, mija," Corazon said from where she was sitting with Alicia on Hound's, braiding her granddaughter's hair. "Even I'm missing about 50% of it."

"What are you seeing than I don't?" Amelia asked, keenly curious about the special ability the old woman had as well as insight into her new family.

"Alicia, how does it feel, deep inside your psyche, when I pamper you and braid your hair?" Corazon asked her granddaughter in turn.

"It reminds me of when I was a little girl. When you'd spend hours brushing my hair, putting it in braids, rubbing my neck and back. It feels like I'm the most special thing in your universe," Alicia said easily in a tone that was completely relaxed and content.

"Preprogrammed mechs, like Prowl, onlined to no caring creator," the curandera began. "The way I understand it, they were supposed to have an imprinter, like Inferno was for Red Alert, but it rarely happened the way it was supposed to. Most imprinters simply made sure they were running correctly, had no major glitches and sent them to their function, brand new to the world with no real sense of how to exist in it outside of their job. Prowl's feelings toward Miles at this moment are not the normal erotic ones or even a spark hungry for a charge. They are of a very young sparkling who longs to have someone make him the center of his universe. In this moment, Miles is, for all intents and purposes, fulfilling the role of a carrier or creator. Miles is making Prowl feel the way I'm making Alicia feel, except Prowl never had what Alicia had as a little girl."

Amelia's heart ached at the description. "That ... we don't even have it that bad, not even in the worst places," she whispered. "Infants need too much care not to have some sense of that." She fell silent and watched the pair, trying to see for herself what the difference was. Maybe when she knew them better she would see it, but not today.

"If you ever watch a flier get their wings polished, it is much the same," Mirage added with a soft smile for his Lord's bonded. "It is pure indulgence at this level. It has been a long time since I have seen Prowl allow it, and never in public."

"Why do you think they are in public?" Alicia asked in a tone that was more like a purr as her grandmother began to kneed the muscles of her back. "It doesn't seem to be in Prowl's nature to make a public show, unless Jazz totally drives him over the edge."

Mirage smiled at her. "When Prowl was first commissioned, this was one of the greatest rewards that could be given to a public servant. Only nobles and the very wealthy had sockets of their own. The only Enforcer likely to have one would be the city's chief. To have a socket polish, pamper and charge him would be a sign even more remembered than any award or title by his fellow officers. My House sponsored such treatment on occasion for those who earned it. Good energon and the orn as paid leave were generally also part of it."

"So wait ... were there still generators in use when Prowl was commissioned? How did he or others charge if only the wealthy had sockets?" Alicia asked, feeling suddenly disturbed.

"Yes, there were still generators until the beginning of the war. They were outlawed and the rebellion hit its flashpoint at the same time some areas," Mirage explained. "There were also medical charges available. Wheeljack's arrival with his sockets was a very chaotic time. So much happened quickly."

"I remember," Hound picked up when Mirage's limited first person knowledge tapered off. "It took several hundred vorns for the war to engulf all of Cybertron. During that time various city-states changed at different rates. Some had shut down the generators even before the Prime ordered it. Others refused to accept the decree. Most accepted his word as law but had a much more difficult time turning theory into practice. It was messy, even in the best places. The Towers were the only places that didn't see too much of the panic, simply because they already preferred sockets. Common mechs panicked en mass at the idea of loosing the only way we had not to stave off spark starvation. It was all well and good to _say_ there would be sockets available to all, but it never actually _happened_ before the war."

"The Towers found the time quite lucrative," Mirage added. "The noble houses already had sockets that did not have to be imported. Breeding and selling them to the masses was very good business, even if the rate at which they were bred and trained decreased their quality."

All three humans began to squirm in discomfort at his explanation.

"We ... are trying to be more open about the shame in our history," Hound murmured. "What we did ... what we didn't do."

"It sounds like a very chaotic time," Amelia murmured.

Corazon closed her eyes and focused inward on what she could see, shivering as she became overwhelmed with it. "Complicated, too," she murmured. "Prime made mistakes...huge ones. There was so much emotion, so much pain as mechs realized what the generators were, yet had seemingly no options aside from them. So much pain and shame and anger in so many sparks...even now. Shame leads to poor decisions. So many believe that if Prime had gone slower, the war may not have happened, yet Prime's brother is so strongly connected to the Unmaker that I doubt any other result was possible."

"Things we're never likely to know for sure," Hound suppressed a shudder at his own memories and thoughts. "I doubt anyone knows, except maybe Megatron."

"Or Jazz, but he won't talk about it," Amelia said with the unnatural certainty that came from her connection to the silver mech.

"Optimus did make a tremendous effort to be certain that free sockets, who had a choice in the matter, were available as widely as possible," Ratchet suddenly spoke up from where he had been quietly listening and drinking a cube of high grade.

"During the 100 vorns between the initial decree outlawing generators and the decree giving full sentient rights to organics, there was a huge effort that went into rehabilitating organics who had been in them," the CMO continued with several sets of optics and eyes glued to him in interest. "Sadly, only one species was capable of survival post-generator, and only those who'd been in the generators for less than a vorn. But that still meant several thousand avians, most of whom became free sockets in a couple of the more organic-friendly city-states. Prime's first 100 vorns were spent traveling or sending delegates, myself and Wheeljack included, to hundreds of organic worlds, crafting treaties, bringing sockets back who were meant to be available to any mech, provided the organic agreed, but who could also be claimed if specific relationships developed. It was ... difficult. We returned with many, but far fewer than were needed to assuage the sense of fear and deprivation that was consuming the planet."

Mirage inclined his head in acceptance of the medic's superior knowledge of events.

"I have doubts that even if there were more than enough free sockets for everyone it would have prevented the war completely," Mirage said softly. "It may have changed the focus, the timing, perhaps even the leadership," his voice was barely above a whisper as he stroked Amelia for comfort. "I've listened to too many Decepticons over the vorns, new ones, old ones, the rank and file cannon fodder. They spoke of far more than just the generators as driving them to their choice. Energon, access to the Allspark, the caste and class system were all part of the discontent."

"You almost make is sound like the Autobots were on the wrong side, sometimes," Alicia said softly, hugging her grandmother for comfort.

"Mija, you are wise enough to know that there is never really a right side in war. It is always a series of choices between horrible options," Corazon said gently.

"We were working so hard to make right the wrongs, and protect organics at the same time," Ratchet said in a gruff, static-laced voice. "But we couldn't do enough, and the will of the senate was against those of us pushing for reform. So much was already in motion, before Optimus even became Prime, and Megatron was so charismatic and skilled at manipulating those who were afraid, angry, and felt they had no options. Though there were also many 'Cons who simply wanted to recreate Cybertron through a violent rebirth. The issues did not matter to those kind of 'Cons. They only needed an excuse to make Cybertron burn."

"They fulfilled their vision well," Mirage closed his optics at the rush of pain he still felt when memories of his home crumbling refused to be shut down.

Hound's focus remained on Prowl, even when he shuddered. "I wonder if we simply fell to the natural order."

"What do you mean?" Amelia asked while stroking her mech's SIC with her nearly unconscious maternal instinct.

"When animals grow too plentiful for their environment, they turn on each other to reduce the population. Humans have had a major war once a generation for nearly as long as history has been recorded. Cybertron had a few, but we never fought anything like your world wars. We never controlled our population through violence. Not until it was so big an issue that culling no longer worked and we didn't know how to stop."

"It seems like the war should have stopped then, once the population was more manageable," Alicia said, her rational, analytical side kicking in to avoid the pain of the topic. "Not gone on to nearly wipe out the entire species."

"That's the 'don't know how to stop' part," Hound explained gently. "We never had the little wars, so when things finally broke ... I know there are a lot of Autobots and Decepticons who can't conceive of living in peace with the other side, who won't be content while a single member of the other faction lives."

"In many ways, your sparks are far younger than human souls," Corazon murmured, her eyes closed again. "When something so pure...so unready for that kind of horror and evil is suddenly immersed in it, it loses its capacity to imagine a reality beyond the present. The younger a soul is, the more inflexible it is. Earthly souls are attached to short lived bodies, and many have come and gone through life far more times than any of yours, have experienced both war and reconciliation, pain and forgiveness hundreds, even thousands of times. Even the oldest spark I've seen on base is only on its ... perhaps 11th or 12th go around."

"Those must have been painfully short lives," Mirage shivered, his processor doing the math before he could stop it. "We've only had seven Primes."

"Yes...very painful, and very short, and always willing to come back. Hardly a vorn passes before it returns again," Corazon said in a trance-like whisper, her eyes now open and locked on Prowl. She then shook her head and came out of her reverie. "It is why I see all of you as so young, as strange as it seems."

"Prowl?" Mirage's golden opens went wide, his frame stiffening in shock. "_Prowl_ keeps coming back?"

"Mijos...you need to forget what I just said, I mean it," the curandera began to slide down from Hound's lap, uncharacteristic distress radiating from her as she realized what she had said. "Sometimes my sight...I see things I shouldn't and it just takes over. That is not yours to know...I...I need to go."

~Stay, and forget what she said. I'll see to Ratchet later.~ Mirage ordered sharply to his bonded and socket as he stood, Amelia clutched to his chest, and followed Corazon without actually stopping her.

Corazon looked over her shoulder and shook her head, stopping so Mirage could pick her up. "You won't let this go, will you," she said softly. "Mijo, there are some things we just aren't meant to know."

Mirage picked her up and continued to walk, even as he offered a cable so the three of them could speak in privacy. ~If Jazz knows he'll come back so quickly, he might manage to control the pain.~

~I know...I know. I've just broken my own rules, which is not a good thing. It is one thing if they ask me, but even then, there are secrets I keep.~

She sighed and rested against his plating, watching Amelia watch her and Mirage with fascination. ~ Jazz...would kill me if he knew how much I can see in him. Yes, Prowl comes back quickly. Every time ... every damn time.~

~He comes back _for_ Jazz, doesn't he?~ Mirage asked, his processors at full usage calculating and cross-referencing everything he knew about his leader.

~Mirage...if Jazz learns the truth about the forces at work here, if he were to know just how much your god is involved in this,~ she wailed into his mind. ~He must not know. Prowl does not know. How could he ever trust Prowl knowing that Primus is the one who sends him over and over again.~

Grief, spark deep at the truth of her words echoed between them before Mirage nodded and slipped into his quarters to sit on the berth. ~I will erase it from our minds ... and yours?~

~I will see it again. You can't erase that. I don't think even you could change my ability that much, not without significantly damaging my mind. But you can keep me from saying it, right?~

~Yes, to anyone except Jazz or Prime's direct order to divulge it,~ he nodded, already having put Amelia to sleep and changed her memories. ~It is too much against my code to refuse either of them. It ... Primus created Prowl for him ... to change him...~

~That is what I see,~ she murmured, relief pouring through their connection that he would be able to edit his own memories and protect her from sharing what she shouldn't. ~In every life, Jazz has either bonded with him or killed him. There is a lot of Prowl's spark already in Jazz's, from the times he has been consumed by him. Yet somehow, there is always far more left to return to Primus than there is with the others Jazz hunts. And what remains simply calls Prowl back. He _always_ finds him. Every time. Jazz...cannot resist the call of Prowl's spark, whether he responds in love or violence or both.~

Mirage nodded slowly. ~That fits with what Jazz has showed me of his previous loves. Does Prowl have any purpose other than to convert Jazz?~

~Not...convert. To help Jazz become free. Your god...values free will even more than your Prime. Free to make his own choices aside from Unicron's demands of him. Every time he bonds, he becomes more able to make independent decisions, for good or ill. Prowl's choice to return is always his own. He comes back because he loves Jazz, just as Jazz returned because he loves Prowl. Every bit of Prowl's spark that Jazz receives gives him one more step to true freedom, for the light to be able to overcome the dark of his spark. When the light in his spark overpowers the darkness, he will be able to choose good or ill by his own choices and not outside manipulation. But Prowl is also competent and gifted in whatever he returns as. This lifetime he came back just as much to help Optimus as he did for Jazz. What does the name Prima mean to you?~ she suddenly asked.

~The first Prime, before there _were_ Primes,~ he responded on reflex, his entire spark swirling with reverence for the first of his kind that was only fractionally less than his reverence to Primus. ~She was the first of us. Every Cybertronian traces back to her. She ... she was the first to teach Jazz something other than hunger and hate.~

~Prowl...is her, Mirage, and yet is someone else as well...the first one he hunted. A new being...she freely chose to become...I have to stop this. Stop me from saying any more.~

It was too late, even the finest construction of a powerful noble house could only take so much, and the idea that the Autobot SIC was the very first of his kind was too much. With a flicker of golden optics, Mirage shut down.

* * *

Hound had just finished the edit of Alicia's memory when both of them froze, Alicia gasping at the utter shock that suddenly bled through the bond that Mirage had largely blocked for his conversation with Alicia's grandmother.

Then they felt him shut down, processors frozen.

**"Ratchet!"** Hound barked, already on his feet and transforming. Alicia found herself in the passenger seat of her mech as he tore off towards the officer's quarters, Ratchet on his bumper.

::What can you tell?:: Ratchet demanded of them both.

::Mirage crashed. Something shocked him so much _he_ couldn't cope.:: Hound managed to respond, terrified at the prospect that it was even possible.

~Damn Bruja can't keep her mouth shut,~ Alicia was bitterly complaining across their bond, her own fear bleeding into righteous anger with her grandmother. ~If anyone could shock him that badly, it is Abuela.~

~I'm sure it wasn't intentional,~ Hound tried to sooth her, very much not wanting to have a rift between them. ~Mirage will press for answers long after he knows he shouldn't. It's his programming as a spy. He _needs_ to know, even when he shouldn't know or won't be allowed to remember.~

Alicia still had no idea what her grandmother and mech had needed to speak about so much that they'd gone off by themselves, but she knew the kind of secrets Corazon had confronted her with as a child.

~I love her, always will, but she really needs to learn when _not_ to look,~ she muttered as Hound quickly transformed at their quarters, switching her to his hand mid sequence. It was something that always made her heart beat faster in excitement.

The door made no objection to his code and they were inside. Mirage was limp and laying awkwardly on the berth, his legs bent at the knee and pedes on the floor. Amelia was unconscious next to him and Corazon was sitting by his still form on the berth with a distressed, sheepish expression for the mechs and human who rushed in.

"Abuelita! You broke my mech!" Alicia's fire was in full force.

"I know...ay mierda, I'm so sorry mija. He'll be fine. I promise...I just couldn't stop the vision."

"Don't you dare tell me. If it was this bad, I do not want to know," Mirage and Hound's socket scrambled onto the bed, caressing and checking Mirage's helm as though there might be some visible injury.

Ratchet, meanwhile, had already plugged into the offline noble, running a diagnostic. He felt the editor protocols worm their way past his firewalls, something that would only happen if he had already been an intended target of them _before_ Mirage crashed.

"Simple processor freeze. But Mirage has _never_ frozen in his entire medical history," he grumbled, initiating a deeper scan to search for possible damage.

Hound gently moved Corazon and Amelia around so he could sit down and cradle his bonded while Ratchet worked. "Something shocked him. That's all I really got. Intense shock, panicking disbelief, then he shut down. Will he know what set it off?"

"His memories are unaffected. There is no damage that a full recharge and defrag won't fix. He simply found out something," Ratchet glared for a moment at Corazon, "that managed to overwhelm even _his_ processors."

"Lo siento, I'm so sorry," Corazon mumbled as Ratchet prepared to manually initiate Mirage's boot cycle.

"If you can break _him_," Ratchet nodded towards Mirage as the soft hum and whirl of booting systems could be heard, "just stay far away from Red Alert and Prowl. Those two glitch too easily as is."

~Hey love,~ Hound murmured silently, knowing Mirage wasn't likely to grasp the words but would feel the intent. He waited until he felt a bit of coherency on the other side of the bond. ~How are you?~

~Processors hurt. What happened?~

~You crashed,~ Hound stroked his helm tenderly, fingers ghosting over the nemes-like helm. ~Do you need it edited out, or can you?~

There was a slight pause, Mirage shuddered and tensed, then set a subroutine to do its job. ~I'll be fine. I'll deal with Corazon as well.~

~What are you going to do to Abuelita?~ Alicia asked, her mood shifting instantly from angry with to protective of her grandmother. ~How did she manage to do this to _you_?~

~She told me something I ... _can't_...~ Mirage shivered again. ~I can't go there. I just can't. She can tell you before I prevent her from ever speaking of it again. Your memory of it all will be wiped along with mine. I can't know that. No one can.~

~Shush...no...I don't need to know. If it did this to you, it is enough for me to know that she should have remained silent. Poor Abuelita...sometimes she feels so alone with all that she can see that she just has to let it out.~

She turned and faced her grandmother, who looked absolutely stricken. "Come here, you silly bruja," she said, wrapping her tiny form up in her arms.

~With anything else, I would suggest talking to Jazz. He understands secrets and needing to _talk_ sometimes better than almost anyone,~ Mirage murmured, relaxing as the protocol did its work and the trauma was gently obliterated from his memory banks and processors. ~As odd as it may sound, Drift may be a good one if Prime can not be used,~ he offered in a instinctive attempt to help.

~Prime would be good, I think,~ Alicia murmured, one hand stroking her grandmother's hair and the other Mirage's plating. ~Some of what she can see, he also sees in merges,~ she said thoughtfully.

"All right, I know you've done a number on my memories," Ratchet growled at Mirage. "And everyone here seems fine, so I'll leave you Ops types to your own devices. Just _try_ not to crash anybody." He added as he turned towards the door to leave, fully expecting the editing session to lead to an orgy.

* * *

Several hours later, Amelia found herself outside of Prowl, Jazz, and Miles's quarters. As much as she felt she _belonged_ to Jazz, probably in ways that she wasn't terribly comfortable even contemplating at the moment with the claim nanites screaming that she be back with him _now_, she wasn't sure she belonged _here_, in these quarters. Miles had been wonderful, which was no surprise. He had accepted her, wanted her to feel comfortable, would do anything for her.

She had not even met Prowl in person yet. She had no idea how he felt about her or about what Jazz had done. She knew that the last thing Jazz needed was stress with his bondmate on top of all of the things that were currently unsettling his spark and processors.

Which was what had brought her to their door, with her constant Ops shadow, Mirage, whom she would need to convince to leave.

"It will be a good time to speak with him," Mirage startled her. "He is very relaxed."

The door slid open to a half dressed Miles, hair wet from a shower. "Amelia, you don't have to ping, babe. The door is coded to your signature. Come on in. Hey Mirage," the socket said with friendly, relaxed charm, moving aside so the two could enter.

"I will return when she is ready to leave," the noble said instead. "Prowl is an acceptable guardian to the nanites."

Along with the relief of that conversation averted, Amelia's attention was drawn to the mech-sized couch and the black, white and red mech sprawled on it like a cat warmed to boneless bliss in the sun, watching something from Cybertron on this vid screen.

"Thanks, Mirage," she murmured as he placed her carefully on the floor next to Miles and left with a graceful bow that was so natural to the noble. She gave the younger human a warm hug.

"Did someone enjoy his royal treatment today, hon?" she asked him.

"Definitely," Miles grinned at her as the door closed. "He's still purring like a kitten. I wish I could do that every day."

"So do I," Prowl's voice drifted over to them lazily. "It was extremely pleasant."

"It looked fabulous," she said, walking over to the couch and looked up at the handsome mech sprawled on it without a stiff joint or hydraulic in his frame. She forced herself to be completely relaxed and confident, despite her insecurities and the constant electric-feeling hum of claiming nanites that were becoming ever more impatient. "I thought it was about time I met you in person, Prowl. Is now a good time? I don't want to interrupt your post-detailing relaxation or do anything to ruin it."

"Now is fine, Amelia," he smiled in that half-in-recharge way of being extremely and unusually relaxed. "Do you mind if the program continues to play? I can easily pay attention to you and it at the same time," he asked as he lowered a hand to her.

"Sure, no problem," she said, climbing onto his hand, looking over her shoulder to see if Miles would be joining them.

"I think it would be good for the two of you to chat," the young man said with a broad smile. "Hound and Alicia are going to show Maso some of the more remote parts on the island where they are doing rehabilitation work, and he asked me to come, probably so he won't be alone when those two find their favorite make out spots," he laughed and winked.

"Enjoy yourself, Miles," Prowl's soft rumble was a happy one as he set Amelia on the couch on his chest. "Thank you for today."

Miles paused as he was buttoning up his gaudy Hawaiian floral shirt, and positively beamed up at Prowl. "Dude, you are _so_ welcome. Any time, kay? You two have a good chat."

The exchange left Amelia with a goofy grin on her face as she made herself comfortable on the warm plating. She had the feeling the two were saying more through their socket bond, so she simply relaxed and waited for Miles to give them a final wave and take off on his hoverboard.

"He loves you so much," she said quietly.

"Yes, he does," Prowl murmured, turning his attention to her. "He loves Jazz just as much."

She made a sound of agreement. Her time connected with Jazz had left no doubt of just how treasured both mechs were by their socket, and the mutuality of that emotion.

"I'm not sure what to say about what has happened, Prowl," she said softly again, somehow, inexplicably, feeling guilt for something she had very little responsibility for. She was not sorry it had happened - not at all. But she was sorry for all the turmoil it was adding to already stressed mechs.

"It happened. I learned very early in my association with Jazz that when he wants something, he takes it. There is no reason to feel guilty for accepting that," Prowl caressed her gently with one finger. "It is not that different from how I came to be with him."

Prowl registered as the safest, most comfortable and closest of all of the mechs the claiming nanites found acceptable in her presence. They were like little magnets that all pulled toward his spark, making it hard to concentrate on his words. As relaxed as he was, she was hopelessly aroused by the finger stroking her.

"Will you want to do it, too? Claim me, that is?" she asked breathlessly, completely uncertain of the answer.

"Not unless Jazz wishes me to," he said gently, stilling as he recognized her arousal. "You are _his_ in a way few will ever be. I am not sure he will wish anyone to have a claim on you, not even myself."

She nodded her understanding silently, consciously trying to calm her arousal at the heat radiating from underneath her, with very little luck.

"Sorry," she murmured, all too aware of the contrast her early claim anxiety was to his relaxed state.

"Is it only arousal, or is there more?" he asked softly, his tone gentle and entirely too understanding. Before she could answer he smiled at her. "Jazz is addictive. Very addictive."

"I feel like I'm crawling out of my skin," she vented. "It _is_ addiction. He claimed me, and then was gone, and I've been in the close presence of mechs whom the nanites find acceptable in terms of company, but all of whom are hands off because it is Jazz who claimed me. And you, of course, feel best of all."

Prowl paused for a moment, then hummed. "Pleasure he is agreeable with, so long as I remain out of your mind."

At his words, she completely melted into his chest in relief, her entire body shaking as someone in withdrawal. "You don't mind?" she asked hesitantly. Without the mech who had claimed her, she suddenly was more insecure about her place in the world than at any point in her adult life.

"I don't mind," he assured her and began to caress her again. "I know what it is like to miss him so badly if feels as if you can't survive. I can't stop the feeling, but I know how to temper it."

"Oh Prowl," she whispered his designation in an awed tone, knowing what he was for her mech, the balance, sanity and moral compass the one provided the other even in the midst of an addiction to one another so intense it rocked the very foundations of the world.

That he understood...that he would help finally made her come unglued from the intensity of the previous days. She shameless stripped her clothing, tears that were a mixture of relief and helpless bewilderment running down her face.

Slender, finger-sized cables slid from between armor plates to caress her as he shifted, settling his hips flat on the couch. She barely heard his interface panel slide back, but not the hydraulic pressurization of his spike.

A possessive desire that was completely Jazz's made her groan as she looked at the still unpressurized spike and the open valve, not yet slick the way she wanted it to be. It was like she was hunting with the silver mech again, only this time the part of him that remained in her desired not a spark to consume, but hungered for his bonded.

"Oh hell yes," she whispered, suddenly climbing off of Prowls chest to settle between his legs and begin to taste his valve, half expecting to see a silver glossa emerge from her mouth rather than her own small organic tongue as her consciousness settled into the part of Jazz's that remained in her.

Surprise rippled up Prowl's chassis and he moaned softly. His legs spread for her, and though cables came out from his legs to stroke and caress her, he lifted his arms over his head to allow his hands to fall on the far side of the armrest.

In a part of her mind that wasn't fixated on the rapid arousal growing in the mech before her, she realized that he was responding to her much as he would to Jazz.

"Oh Prowl," she murmured again into the silicone and soft living metal folds of his valve. "So perfect," she said, breathing in the completely new, yet long familiar scent of his lubricant before she started to nibble and suckle on the edges, taking sensors carefully between her teeth.

A wordless, resonant moan and arch of his chassis came in response. He lowered one hand to his emerging spike, teasing the tip with a clawed finger while he slid several cables inside Amelia's slick, needy sex. Knowing far more than an un-cabled organic should about his hottest, most sensitive spots, she began to suck on a particular sensor near the top of the tactician's valve, while massaging others between her thumbs and fingers, her body undulating with the delicious invasion of his cables.

A keen that only a few months ago would have been nerve-grating now made her body tremble in response to the arousal it indicated. Slick, thick lubricant began to ooze from the valve's walls as enough of Prowl's spike emerged for his hand to close around it.

"Amelia," he breathed her name out with a vent, his voice unsteady and touched with static. "Ohhhh."

The sounds, smells, even what she could sense of his field reacting with the fields of her claiming nanites all melded together into a perfect fantasy, and suddenly her hand was no longer her hand, but a silver spike that was the perfect complement to the valve in front of her, and she slowly pushed it in, finding every sensor along the way, wanting nothing more than the wild keens that came with knowing she had driven her bonded over the edge to an oblivion of pleasure.

"Overload for me, Prowl," she demanded, her words a caress.

She hadn't even sunk all the way in when he keened and stiffened, throwing his helm back as one hand gripped at the couch and the other tightened around his nearly-pressurized spike. Obedient to her as he was to his bonded. Unquestioning, unresisting, desiring nothing but to pleasure her.

"So perfect," she whispered, thrusting her hand in several more times up to her elbow as he spent his charge and his valve massaged her arm. "Now spike me, please."

His fans kicked up to full, the overload having come too quickly for his systems to heat enough to need it until now. Without a word he released his spike and she watched as it shrunk to suit her size. Still on the large size, anticipation of feeling it stretch her made her shiver, as did the loss of the cables from inside her as he picked her up. While not hard by his standards, he held her and thrust into her slick heat with as much force as was safe for her.

Her wild moans echoed through the room and her limbs began to tremble and twitch with each deep thrust. If only she could connect with his mind and complete the circuit, feel what her tight heat felt like to him, show him how perfect he felt inside her, how amazing it was to wrapped in his clawed fingers that somehow managed to hold her tight without bruising or cutting her.

His rhythm changed, his charge building fast and hot. His fingers rubbed along her body, teasing her nipples with sharp claws that didn't hurt. A cable slid from above his spike to rub and squeeze her clit. Even without being connected to him she could feel the physical pleasure building until his entire frame was taunt and his vocalizer issued an almost continual streak of whimper-moans.

"Yesss...oh yes Prowl," she urged him, her voice a hoarse, low moan. She wanted his overload even more than she wanted her own climax. Even if she couldn't be claimed by him, she could still feel his hot fluid splashing inside of her and flowing out. She wanted to feel, smell, taste and have everything about this perfect balance to her mech's maelstrom of a spark.

A low, need-filled whimper escaped him as he thrust, only just holding his overload back as he struggled to pleasure her without any of his usual tools. As strongly as she was reading of Jazz right now and as much as he missed his bonded's company his pleasure built too fast, too hot.

"Won't last," he managed to gasp out, every circuit on fire and servo and cable charged.

"Don't want you to," she whispered, captivated that the power her tiny body, pulsing with Jazz's signature, was able to take him to the brink. She was, at that moment, the center of his universe, and it felt as good as an interrogation did to Jazz.

Prowl's roar cut off the last of her words as he thrust up, his spike pressing against her cervix when the first burst of fluid rushed into her. His pull back was as much a movement of her in his hands as his hips before he thrust again and again, trembling and keening where the only control he had was the protocols to keep her safe from his strength.

Her screams of his designation and "yes" could not be heard over his roar as her body crested to oblivion.

* * *

Amelia awoke, having no memory of falling asleep, a pleasant burn between her legs reminding her of just what had sent her into unconsciousness. She found herself cuddled on a hot chest, a hand protectively covering her while the sounds of Prowl's holovid quietly came to her awareness.

"You managed to make me pass out without being in my mind," she murmured, her voice slightly scratchy.

"So it seems," his voice was warm, affectionate, not at all like his reputation. "That was very intense," he stroked her gently.

"That it was. You are amazing...it is no wonder he is completely addicted to you," she said, and then drank down the entire glass of water he had silently handed her. "How is he?" she asked, sounding slightly more hydrated.

"The hunt is nearly over and he's _very_ eager to get home, 'face me against the wall and claim you senseless before reclaiming Miles," he chuckled lightly. "It seems he was the only one not getting some action. Though he wants us to continue to pleasure you until he does return."

"Hmmmm ... I'm thinking I like this idea very much," she said with an eager smile in her eyes, "and I'd like to be hooked up when he faces you against the wall, because that is something I need to feel. Does this mean you can stay here for a few more days, before you go back to Burma?"

"I'm sure Jazz will be agreeable to connecting to you for that," Prowl's golden optics glittered in anticipation. "I technically need to ask, but the probability of being refused a few days reprieve from my chastisement is infinitesimal."

"I was planning on a week in Burma as part of the story. If...I'm not too obvious about things, perhaps we could all go. I know Jazz is due for some time there as well, and wants to go," she said, rolling to her side to see what Prowl was watching. There were several mechs on the screen, all with a lighter build than the mechs she knew, but two, who were currently center screen, had a build and look very similar to Prowl's current one, though their colors were different. Everything moved fast, like a film on fast forward.

"The difficulty will be in keeping your hands off each other," Prowl chuckled. "Prime will have to agree to that, and Jazz."

"Somehow...my guess is that Jazz will insist I go, and Prime will insist I stay because he will know how impossible that would be in the early stage," she said with an air of resignation.

"You are 99.8573% likely correct, which will result in Jazz remaining on the island until the claiming phase settles," he agreed. "This is a fiction program I enjoyed as an Enforcer," he responded to her unspoken question. "I have long found it amusing to watch Enforcer dramas. They are so unrealistic, it is a comedy of sorts."

She giggled and traced the the gaps in his armor with an air of non-aroused affection. "Some things really are the constants across the universe, I guess. Even the best cop shows on Earth are hopelessly unrealistic. How come the show is so fast? Are you deliberately speeding it up, or is that just how you would normally watch?"

"I'm actually watching at half speed," he smiled and stroked her back lightly. "It's a relaxing speed for me, slow enough that I don't really have to pay much attention but fast enough that I don't have to remember to speed it up. The natural speed for Cybertronian speech is roughly ten times what yours is. Our comms are far faster, nearly the speed of our thought. We even move much slower, in part to not continually frighten you, but also because of how much processor power is demanded in keeping track of such slow communication methods and vulnerable environments. There is a reason almost every mech has at least one space that is strictly off limits to organics, even our own sockets. It is stressful to be in your world."

"Understandable," she murmured, watching with him for another few minutes in silence, paying as much attention to the subtle sounds and movements of his frame as to the show. "You live so long...and yet also can put so much more into a single minute," she murmured, utterly fascinated. Unspoken was that as long as Prowl's life seemed to her organic mind, when Jazz claimed her, her awareness was honed in on it being far, far too short.

"Yet you manage to _do_ more in your short, painfully slow life than many mechs do in their millions of vorns," he said softly. "It is an interesting dichotomy. What has always struck me is that no matter how alien the race, anything that is sentient is also social, and everything social craves to be _cared_ for. We have more in common than we are different, in the ways that matter most to a society."

It was at those words that Amelia knew that even though he might never claim her, and that she belonged to Jazz, she loved the mech she was resting on every bit as much as she loved the other. She drifted off to sleep listening to the musical hum of his spark underneath her, content in a way that she could not begin to fathom considering how much her life had been in upheaval since the moment she had stepped on the island. Later, she stirred and found herself curled up with Miles on Prowl's warm and surprisingly comfortable chassis. She gave a warm sleepy smile, and then fell asleep again, partly aware that her exhaustion was a function of the work Jazz's claiming nanites were continuing to do to her body and her quantum self.

* * *

Previous Chapter | Story Index | Next Chapter 


	79. Witch of Diego Garcia 3: Healing Smoke

**Fandom:** Transformers Bayverse  
**Author:** gatekat and femme4jack on LJ  
**Pairing:** Smokescreen/Corazon Rodriguez, Wolfkat  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Codes:** Het, Xeno (Transformer/Human), First Time, Claiming  
**Summary:** Corazon looks up Smokescreen to talk about her duties on the psychological services team.  
**Disclaimer**: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page (anhrefn-hyfryd .livejournal .com/22919 .html) We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.  
**Notes**: Written in the Dathanna de Gray fanverse (community .livejournal .com/ tf_socket_fics)  
klik = 1 minute, breem = 8.3 minutes; joor = 1.2 hours; orn = day/32 joor; metacycle = 6 (5.9285) years; vorn = 83 years/14 metacycle  
**"text"** translated Cybertronian.  
~text~ bond/hardlink connection talk.  
"text" translated organic.  
::text:: comm chatter  
Spanish translations: mijo - term of endearment for a younger person, querido - dear, cariño - dear, sweetie, viejo - old man

Apologies for the abrupt ending. It happens sometimes with co-written fics when the authors stop writing together. Please see our notice for more information. The other chapters of the Witch of Diego Garcia should precede this in DdG, but are posted under a separate story header currently.

* * *

Dathanna de Gray 87: Healing Smoke (chapter numbers don't correspond to ff . net chapters)

* * *

Smokescreen was lounging on the beach, relaxed and content to watch his socket put her new pack of NEST agents through their paces. Wolfkat was driving them hard to teach them a level of pack understanding that did not come easily even to these team-oriented humans, but was instinctive to her. The single panel of each sensor wing that he maintained waved lazily in the tropical wings, picking up more information on his surroundings than all his other sensors combined.

"She is trying to weave connections between them that are alien to us. It is lovely to watch," a female voice said from his pede supports. He had sensed the elderly human approaching him, and now looked down at her tanned and sunwrinkled face that appeared even more aged than her vorn of life, a visible sign of the sheer amount of time she spent outdoors in the high altitude solar radiation. Her white hair was in its signature braids on each side of her head that was topped with a dusty, faded cowboy hat. She wore a brightly colored sundress that looked, and hung on her, as though it belonged to her granddaughter.

"If anyone can learn to be a pack, it's that group," he said easily with a smile for his socket, then focused on Corazon. "What brings you by?"

"Ah, mijo, what excuse does an old woman need to visit with fascinating, handsome aliens? But if I needed an excuse, it would be that the big lad, Optimus, seems to think my services might be useful, as he put it, to 'help mechs come to terms with functioning during peacetime,'" Corazon did a passing imitation of Prime's deep, resonant voice, complete with the proper inflections. "He also suggested that in order to do so, I would be working closely with you. I though it was high time we had a chat so you could determine if my services would be useful on your psychological services team."

Smokescreen chuckled and shifted to relax back against a nearby tree. "From what I've heard, you'll be more useful than I am. And there is no team. It's just me, Jazz and Ratchet, but we aren't a _team_. Just different jobs in the field."

"Well, let's see about that. I've already caused one very stable mech to lock up, have been ordered by Ratchet not to speak with Red Alert or Prowl, and nearly drove Silverbolt to get completely overcharged. I wouldn't count myself as very useful, yet, mijo. As to our team," she added, deliberately ignoring his assessment of its lack of existence, "don't forget about Prime. With his fancy new spark merge trick, he will be an important part of this. But I'm not so sure Jazz should be involved in anything that has to do with mental or spark health, to be honest. He needs to attend to his own." Corazon said the last without a trace of fear of the dark sparked mech.

"I don't think you can stop him," Smokescreen shook his head, his sensor panels still waving gently. "He tends to stick to the social stuff, and making sure anyone who needs an overload gets one. He got dubbed our morale officer for a reason, you know. But I hear you about tending to his own issues. Mech's got plenty of'm."

Corazon nodded in acceptance of what he said, both the ways in which Jazz helped, and his issues. "So, how do you think I can help mechs out, mijo?" she asked, suddenly quite serious. "Knowledge about what is happening in someone's spark does not necessarily equate to healing or helping. I must admit I'm feeling a bit in over my head."

He vented and shuttered his optics, his helm tilting down in defeat. "You listen, you try to slip in what truths you know, you don't give up," he said quietly, his attention turning inside for a time. "Did anyone tell you what qualified me to be the chief psychologist and councilor?"

"No, querido," she said softly, without ceremony climbing up onto his lap with the deftness of someone much younger than herself, leaning back against his abdominal plating comfortably. "Will you tell me?"

"My original design was a hostage negotiator," he murmured. "Working out how to break someone with words so they'd surrender without doing harm. How to talk circles around anyone, in any situation. By the time the Cons were done targeting the medics, I was the closest thing to a psychologist we had. Better than nothing, but I'm no more meant or trained for the job than Jazz. Ratchet actually knows the most out of everyone about how to help, but the reality of keeping this hodgepodge army in line also means there's only a handful of mechs who know him well enough to believe he won't hurt them for coming into the medbay without physical damage."

"He is not as angry or grumpy as everyone thinks he is. His connection with every one of the Autobots is actually one based on love, mostly of the maternal sort. His anger is more...like a mama Polar Bear," she said thoughtfully.

"We know, but it doesn't change the fact that most mechs are afraid to approach him if they aren't damaged," Smokescreen said as she turned and sat on her knees, looking up at his electric blue optics.

"So, you were designed and coded to deal with mechs in a crisis situation, do whatever you needed to diffuse the crisis. Then an entire army's long term processor health landed in your lap. You've been in over your head and have done a damn fine job, but you are tired. Jesus himself could be the chief psychologist for this gang and be ready to hand himself over to the Romans. Seems like Optimus developed this new gift of his just at the right time, hmm?"

"Very much," he smiled weakly at her, his field flickering brightly with relief to finally have _someone_ to talk to. "Having so many mechs gathering together is a huge boon too. I'm hoping First Aid takes an interest in processor health as well as chassis repair."

"He'd be good at it, though he'd probably end up even more New Age about it than I am," she cackled, patting the mech on the chest with her easy affection that extended to just about any living being. "How are things with your lovely predator?" she asked, focusing in on the blue, red and gray mech's connections she could clearly see in his aura.

"It's still a little odd, she's my first socket experience that wasn't sexual, but we're both learning a lot," he smiled fondly for the large biped canine with cat claws and eyes. "I think she's feeling better being around so many intensely sexual beings. I know she understands sharing better. She's as intense as her sister, just in a different way."

Corazon could see the decidedly nonsexual energies that connected the two, and found them fascinatingly distinct from, and yet also similar from the connections between other mechs and their life-givers. Smokescreen's spark had no issues recognizing the connection with a life source, even if the new manner of sharing was different for his processors.

"Then she must give quite a charge. _You_ are an intensely sexual being, or at least a hedonistic one. Are you mate crazed, looking for someone to make sparklings with like so many of the mechs on this island?" she asked in her kind, but blunt manner, already knowing, in part of the answer, but curious about what he would admit to.

"It's a rare mech that isn't a hedonist by human standards," he chuckled, half teasing, half serious. "The nature of our survival sees to that. I don't have a mate, probably won't have one, but I've been thinking of asking Prime for a sparkling. It'd be a ... a good way to go, I think."

She nodded her understanding, smiling at him knowingly. As a preprogrammed mech, his spark was strained in ways those created as sparkling were not. He was, by the standards of his class and function, a very old mech. Sparkling separation would likely kill him. "You and I are not in that different of a life stage, though you are far better looking with the years. We are both ready, but have enough to be fascinated about to keep us around for a bit," she gestured around herself at what was, essentially, a new city being born on the tropical island. "So no mate. What about lovers? Who takes care of the caregiver, mijo?"

Another flicker of grief-gratitude echoed both in her sight and his EM field. "Not many mechs understand just how old I am, that way," he said softly. "I have lovers, but nothing serious," he shook his head. "I've been too old to do that to another for a while now. There aren't many left I'd want..." he paused, fingering the seam over his spark. "I fell in love a long time ago. I just couldn't keep him. Everyone ends up compared to him, and it doesn't work."

"I know who _he_ is, querido. Just so you know. I can see it in the connections. I don't envy you, that twist of fate, to fall in love with that particular mech." She knew that someday he would fully understand why he'd lost Prowl, but it wouldn't be until after his spark had returned to its maker. Perhaps knowing would bring him comfort, but the blocks were present in her mind for a reason. Even as the thoughts crossed her mind, they went deep behind the layers of security Mirage had created.

Smokescreen smiled weakly and returned Wolfkat's concerned brush against his spark with assurances. "Yeah, competing with Jazz just isn't an option. Even if he _wasn't_ so possessive, I'm not sure I could bring myself to try."

"You know...bonding may not be in the cards for you, but I think love, and especially love with a mech or five who would care for your sparkling as their own when you're gone has winning odds," she said, carefully examining his lesser connections, _and_ more importantly, who among the Autobots already had a connection of desire and care for him.

"Or five?" he raised an optic ridge at her. "The only quints are gestalts."

"I can think of two different gestalts who would enjoy having someone to cuddle and care for," she winked at him and patted him on the chest. "Either would take marvelous care of a sparkling when its carrier rejoins the Matrix, mijo. And can you imagine the interfacing? It would be mutually beneficial, as well. The gestalts here are relatively stable, but an outside lover who was not part of the bond would be...like a pleasurable pressure valve, and they would do you a lot of good as well."

He considered her for a long moment, testing his connections in his own way, with his tactical computer. Yet each tug was visible to Corazon and it helped her understand the connections even more.

"Mmm, you really think the Aerialbots would stay with me, even after they find out Prowl will always be first in my spark?"

She nodded and wiggled her eyebrows "I do, mijo. You'll always be second in theirs as well, so it will be fine with them. Just the way it must be with a gestalt. But...Silverbolt especially could use a companion, a lover who wasn't also his subordiante, and the rest...well...they would just have fun cuddling and facing with you, and as young as they are, would be wonderful mentors for a sparkling. I've heard rumors that Aerials and Seekers have a sensor wing fetish, you know. I know that is especially true for Fireflight."

"Really," Smokescreen purred, his engine revving lightly at the thought. "Worth checking out, at least. Even if their creator is nearly as dangerous as Jazz," he added with a teasing glint in his optics and a grin."

"Perhaps as dangerous, but not nearly as jealous," she said mischievously. "More likely to try to join in on the fun. He certainly didn't come after me for robbing the cradle, so I think you'd be safe. I _hope_ they take you flying," she cackled.

"I heard about that," he grinned down at her. "They said you were quite a charge and a lot of fun to play with. So, any luck for you in finding the right mech?"

"I'm playing the field," she said with a giggle that made her sound younger than her granddaughter. "Honestly, cariño, I want to know _all_ of you mechs. I'd like to live longer, to possibly see some of the sparklings in their first frames. I'd like to see Alicia have her first children, because they are going to be amazing. I need to find someone who is willing to claim me to keep me going, so I can help out here in my own small way a bit longer than I'd otherwise be able to, but who won't mind me sharing with any who wish it, because that is a very valuable way to know the mechs I want to help. I'm afraid I'm not a one-mech kind of granny."

Smokescreen laughed easily. "You want the names of those who share well, or find out on your own?"

She looked at him with a grin. "Actually, I was going to suggest you claim me, mijo, if Wolfkat is amicable, in more of a...professional partnership. You were already suggested to me, and since we both take an interest in the health of those around us, it made sense to me. I was told you have claimed others in the past who were available to all. It won't hurt my feelings if you decline. I know there are others I can ask."

She could feel his surprise in his frame, field and aura, but it settled quickly.

"If you'd like, I'm amicable," he nodded. "Wolfkat's already agreed to my claiming a more traditional socket. I claimed her, and have her nanites broadcasting 'no touching', because it makes her feel more at ease. Mechs don't ask her anymore. We share, but it's ... different."

"I like what I see in your spark and in your connections, Smokescreen," the elderly woman said gently, in a far more serious tone than she had used up until that point. "I think we could...look after each other a bit in the proverbial twilight of our lives, though your twilight will likely last far longer than mine, I'm afraid, depending on when you choose to carry. I'd take good care of you, could be helpful to Wolfkat, and I know you have a vested interested in making me available to help others and take some of the load off of your pretty winglets."

Smokescreen reached out to stroke a finger down her back. "I think I'd like that."

* * *

When both Corazon and Smokescreen recovered from claiming, she relaxed on his abdominal plates, taking in the slight shift to her sight it created. All the connections to him, everything she _saw_ in him, was much more vibrant, much more clear. The rest had not dimmed, but anything to do with _her_ mech now had a brilliant clarity she rarely experienced.

~You are an amazing creature,~ he murmured across the hardline still connecting them.

~I was just going to say the same about you, viejo,~ brushing his mind with affection and watching with keen interest the spiderweb of connections between him and the others on the island. Many of them were one-sided, because her mech simply saw so much, understood so much about the motivations and emotions of those around him. He was connected because he was always noticing, his keen tactical processors several steps ahead trying to avert particular crises or problems.

She could feel him watching her, seeing what she saw through her mind. It felt so good to be able to share it.

~The only mech on this base who has wider ranging connections is Optimus, for obvious reasons. You notice so much that no one else sees.~

That raised an optic ridge and he delved into his own mind, a completely different spiderweb of connections flashing between them as he thought of another mech's connections.

~More than even Jazz?~ he asked, fascinated by the idea but not completely sure of it.

He felt her surprise when she realized that she had not included Jazz in the equation, and suspected that someone had encouraged her mind to pay their SIC less attention, likely for her own good. She continued seamlessly, as though the omission had not been made.

~Jazz has some of the strongest connections, after Prime's. But yours ... are different, and more one sided,~ she added gently, feeling his fascination, his _eagerness_, at finally talking to someone who shared his innate way of seeing the universe. ~Jazz tends to incite reactions, both positive and negative, while you do a lot of silent observation; building connections the others are not even aware of. You observed your brother for many, many vorns, I am guessing, without creating an opportunity for the connection to strengthen from his side. You have many friends and lovers, but few who truly know _you_. It is, in a sense, a professional distance, and gives you an edge whether as a hostage negotiator or a gambler. But it also shields you from both potential pain and potential joy.~

~It ... it's what I know,~ he said quietly, absorbing what was said with all his natural and trained processes. ~Never rush, never invest, be ready for everything. I may have adapted to emotions better than my brothers, but I was still five thousand vorns old before they were installed. They never completely integrate that late in a mech's functioning.~

She pressed her face against the plates above his spark. ~Emotions for your kind are deeper than the protocols that allow your frame to feel them and your processors to understand them. Sparks have emotions, too, mijo, as I'm sure you know. Did your spark love Prowl's before you had the protocols to understand or process the emotions?~

He was still for a long time, long enough for Wolfkat to look over at them from her training of the humans, as he processed her question. Corazon _felt_ him trace 'love' and 'desire' back to their source, back in time.

~Yes,~ he said softly. ~I was always drawn to him more than my other brothers. I always ... wanted ... to be close to him. Even when I had no words for it or protocols to desire, my spark was drawn to his.~

~Do you know why you didn't pursue a deeper connection with him, before Jazz came into the picture?~ she asked, her keen mind attempting to sort through the connections she could see both in his present and past, comparing that to what she could sense about the age of his spark.

He reflexively skirted away from the question, from asking _why_ he'd let the mech he _ached_ to be close to get away from him, but he gathered himself and plunged deeper. It wasn't fear, not really. That was a cover for it, something anyone who looked would understand; the fear of loosing a brother and friend. No, he didn't know why, but it ran deep, past the point where words had meaning.

~Let me show you something. I hope it will help you understand what is happening, though it doesn't explain _why_ you did not pursue him. Our connections can last beyond each individual pass through existence. Some of them are strong enough to outlast death and reassert themselves.~

With a brush of affection, she began to show him the different qualities of connections, and how her mind interpreted them visually. She focused in on the connections between lovers, especially bonded lovers, and what those connections _felt_ like to her. Then she focused in on a different set of connections that were just beginning to form on the island. The connection between a human parent and a child, a carrier and newly kindled spark, and in the case of Wheeljack, a creator and sparklings.

~What am I looking at?~ Smokescreen asked, understanding the connection, the jump from one functioning to the next, but not how it could have developed. Before she could respond, she felt the similarities click and his optics widened in shock.

This time Wolfkat did call her oversight of the training off and loped over to them on all fours. She didn't make a sound as she leapt to Smokescreen's shoulder and stretched out across both of them, glaring balefully at Corazon without any intent to do violence.

~He ... he was my _creator_?~ Smokescreen's mind squeaked, causing Wolfkat, now hooked by cable to her mech, to nuzzle his neck.

~In your previous go around, yes, with a very strong connection. And considering that this go around you were sparked as an adult, and with only the minimal effort given by your imprinter, can you see why you would have been so drawn to him, from the very beginning?~

Corazon tentatively reached out to Wolfkat through the mech they shared, welcoming her to see and share her thoughts and feelings on what the gifted curandera could sense. She felt the warrior stiffen and recoil from the completely alien nature of the sight, as alien as sex in many ways, but it didn't take long for the drive to understand overcame her instinctive rejection.

Wolfkat cautiously explored what she was shown, not pushing for more, as long-forgotten memories from home filtered up. Half-remembered stories of what happened to one twin if two were first-born.

~Yes,~ Smokescreen murmured, still stunned by the revelation. ~But Jazz isn't my other creator, that time?~

~No,~ she said softly, and seemed to drift for a moment, lost in the web of connections. ~Your connection to Jazz is only from this go around.~

Corazon briefly began to delve into the connection between Smokescreen's brother/creator and his bonded, but was distracted by Wolfkat's own web. She smiled in delight. ~You see the humans in the pack as...orphan pups?~ she asked, delighted with how the alien wove the humans into her own soul's language for connection and kin.

Alicia and Hound had explained that Wolfkat's kind were able to assimilate the genetic material of other species, even those of different worlds and vastly alien genetic structures, into their own reproductive process, thanks to a particularly fascinating symbiotic fungi that was weaving its own mycelium of connection into the fabric of the new culture being created on the base. She wondered what genetics of earth would join the next generation of her species, and whether it was possibly any technorganic elements would be present as well?

~I have no better term for them,~ Wolfkat nodded, noting the distraction but not commenting on it. ~They are not ... trained, not really. They are like those with pack instincts but no one to teach them how to make it work. They had to figure it out on their own.~

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	80. Notice

Gatekat and Femme4jack have decided to discontinue their collaboration in the Dathana de Gray fanverse.

We want to thank everyone else who contributed to the Dathana de Gray fanverse: Aniay (the original co-creator with Femme4jack for the POV verse that helped spawn this one), Chai16 , Wilderness, Fallentaiyoko, Prophetbot, Ace_of_the_arts, antepathy, laulun-siivet, sakon76, thepheonixqueen, baka_no_neko, Flybystardancer and Karl Wolfemann.

We also would like to thank Nessus for her amazing artwork that accompanied the series which can be found on in the archive at tf_socket_fics on livejournal under the tag Artist: Nessus and the artists who accepted commissions for various characters: Yamatonix11, SJWerst and Alteride.

And most of all, thanks to all of the readers who have left such encouraging feedback on the project.

* * *

**From Femme4jack**  
The past year and a half of writing has been extremely creative and fulfilling; I have had the opportunity to delve into subject matter that has been intense, exciting, and very moving to me. I apologize to our readers that our collaboration is ending. Over the past year I have truly come to love the characters in these stories - the ones I wrote, Kat's characters, and the ones whom we shared. I am deeply grateful to Gatekat for the time, creativity, and energy she gave to this project in terms of writing, and also all she did behind the scenes in terms of keeping this monster organized.

I may, at some point in the future, continue do some solo writing or collaborations in this fanverse, including its existing storylines (DdG and Dark Nobility), but not until after some other projects are complete. Any such stories will be posted on the sockets account on fanfiction . net , and the archive on livejournal, tf_socket_fics. All of my other stories can be found on femme4jack on fanfiction . net, femmefics on dreamwidth, and anhrefn_hyfryd on livejournal.

* * *

**From Gatekat **  
Confirming the above; and I are not going to continue our joint writing Dathana de Gray, or any Socketverse. I still have stories in the verse that may be finished with others, though no promises. Specifically _Alpha Maestro_ and _Kin of a Different Kind_ with ace_of_the_arts, _No Regrets for Love_ with flybystardancer, and _The Saboteur Kneels_ with Chai16, but I'm pulling out of human/TF xeno for the most part. There is more artwork that is being commissioned, so there will be occasional posts here of that on our archive on livejournal.

It's been an interesting first year in the fandom for me. Full of the good and bad that comes with any fandom. Full of learning. I'm still not entirely sure what to think of it all, but I'm still writing TF. So I'm not going far even if this is very different from my home fandoms.

Everything non-DdG is posted on anhrefn_hyfryd, at least for now.


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